Poem of the Week: Fitting In

Fitting In
August 21, 2017

Sometimes you don’t fit in, no matter how hard you try.
You think you have what it takes, which explains you not knowing why
You can’t get along with others, whose league you think you’re in,
But always remember that being different isn’t a mortal sin.

As a matter of fact, some people, no matter how good they may seem,
Are far bigger creeps than you realize, thus making it a pipe dream
For you to ever fit in with them, but then, you’re better off,
For if you knew what kind of people you’d be dealing with, you’d scoff.

People can be such bastards, all slathered in their own stink
That when it comes to others, they never bother to think,
But instead act all rude and patronizing, treating even “friends” like scum
On account of being “lower” than they are when they’re the ones being dumb.

Folks’ morals and values can be warped far more than you realize,
And should you discover that firsthand, how ugly they’d be in your eyes.
Too many folks sit on their fat asses expecting success to come
On a platinum platter, not caring that the best doesn’t come to lazy bums.

Some people don’t take things seriously and treat too much like a joke
‘Til the other shoe drops and things for them at last go up in smoke.
Some people have nasty tempters and will chew you up in a beat,
Should you cross them one way or another at work or out in the street.

Some folks will act one way one minute, only to turn around
And act completely different the next moment they’ve been found,
Not giving a damn how their treachery hurts any in their wake,
Especially if they thrive somehow off being so bloody fake.

Some even only make friends with those whom they can manipulate
And make them do something they wouldn’t do normally, yet come to hate
In the end one way or another while the creeps themselves
Sit finely by and laugh at their expense like nothing else.

So many are the scumbags out there, and still so many try
To fit in with them whilst not stopping themselves to ask why
They’re so desperate for friendship when what matters in the end
Is staying true to oneself, for upon one’s self one can depend,

And really, is it worth it turning your back on the lessons you’ve learned
Throughout your life for the sake of fake friends who’d rather see you burn
And become that which you’re not, only to make them feel big?
Honestly, why would anyone do that to themselves for such pigs?

Trust me. Being a decent human being needs not fitting in,
Lest you’re talking ‘bout your special niche. Otherwise, it’s no sin
To be different from others, especially those who aren’t worth your time,
So keep your chin up and stay true to yourself, pupil of mine.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com


Poem of the Week: Bullying Is Stupid

Bullying Is Stupid
April 23, 2017

Boorish you are, thoughtless and crude.
Ugly’s your behavior, senseless and rude.
Loathesome are your actions, so unprovoked.
Lies you tell others via your sick jokes.
You alone benefit from your cowardice.
Idiotic are the grounds for your gist.
Nasty you are for your moral flaws.
Good god, the grief and self-hate you cause!

I don’t get what your deal is, you dumb brat.
Spineless yet arrogant…where’s your head at?

Sick in the head. That’s all I can say.
To treat you with EST would make my day.
Useless it is to teach you otherwise,
Punk-ass bitch who needs to be cut down to size.
Infantile coward too scared to grow up.
Damned if your callousness doesn’t make me throw up.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: The Vermin of YouTube

The Vermin of YouTube
March 31, 2017

Childish, foul-mouthed twerps bitching and moaning
‘Bout their fave networks going to the dogs;
Nagging malcontents whining and groaning,
Saying all films “suck”…self-entitled hogs;
Pompous nerds screaming ‘bout which characters
Are “killing” their favorite franchises;
Thin-skinned brats acting oh so immature
Likening their peers to groups like ISIS;
Conspiracy nuts shrieking lies so dumb
To make themselves feel better and us ill;
Lonely, bored trolls whose small minds are so numb
They feel the need to smear us with their swill…
All a sample of the hot trash in store
That can make surfing YouTube quite a chore.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Square Peg

Square Peg
February 6, 2017

Square peg, square peg, what do you see?
I see a round hole staring back at me—
A hole so round like so many more before
Into which I’ve tried to fit ‘til I could take it no more,
For every time I’ve tried, I’d learned the hard way
Why I didn’t belong there, and it’s really hard to say
Why it’s taken me so long to even try to find
A spot to call my own and leave my worries behind.
Worse yet, I know not how much longer I can take
Going through the paces and being lost in the wake
Of other people’s success when I, time and again,
Have failed to find my niche and make all right in the end.
What is it that I’m doing wrong? Where is it that I must go
To finally overcome all my frustration and woe?
What is it I must do to finally prove to the world
That I’m actually worth as much as any other boy or girl
Or woman or man walking beneath Heaven’s balmy sky?
Will I ever find true happiness at all before I die?
Will it ever turn out that I can at last be happy with life,
Or am I doomed to forever live in pain and strife?
Either way, I’m growing tired of poking around
And figuring out where I fit all snug, safe, and sound.
I’ll keep on trying, however, al the same in vain hope,
Even though my journey’s already sent me to the end of my rope.
“A place for everything,” after all, “and everything in its place,”
And I refuse to be known as a sad, pitiful disgrace
Who enjoys sitting on his haunches wallowing in self-pity,
Especially when I’ve still a chance to end up in the big city
And relish the rest of my life in paradise and luxury.
Now that’s the kind of life I’d like to live, you see.
Until then, though, I’m stuck here wondering what I should do
To at last escape this hell and make my dreams come true,
And only time will tell if things go ne way or another.
Either way, keep your fingers crossed for me, sisters and brothers,
For this square peg, one way or another, is set to fit
Somewhere on this peg board ‘cause I can’t afford to quit.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: The Road to Grownup Town

The Road to Grownup Town
January 30, 2017

Growing up ain’t always grand.
After all, no one will hold your hand
And walk you through
What it is you must do
To make your way through this land.

Everyone has his or her own
Path down which he or she alone
Traverses along
To the tune of a song
That hopefully leads him or her home.

Even when you’ve found your space,
You can’t help but look back and face
The place you used to be
And for yourself see
Just how much of a shameless disgrace

The scene you once knew long ago
Has transformed for the worst, you know,
Filled with assholes galore
Who ruin what’s in store
By bringing everyone else woe

By the bushel, which adds up quickly
And makes things ever so prickly
That it’s no longer the
Place at all to be,
Lest you want to end up just as sickly

In the head as the pains in the ass
Who, with their sheer lack of class,
End up making a chore
Of all that’s in store
For those who must cope with their sass.

Even when these schmucks aren’t a thing,
Looking back leaves such a sting,
Seeing how things change
And rearrange,
Making one ask, “Is this still my thing?”

Never mind all the new gals and guys.
What of the things you don’t recognize—
All the sights and sounds
That weren’t at all around
The last time you were made wise?

Worse yet, what happened to all that
Which was around when you were, jack—
All the legends and lore
That there was in store
When you were naught but a wee brat?

To put it simply, they’re gone,
Having long ago said so long
To ex-kids like you
Who once saw them through
To the end. Is that so wrong?

‘Cause if not, what about all the stuff
That has stuck around for the young pups,
Some of which is each bit
As when you were fit
To enjoy it even in times tough

While the rest of it’s gone to crap
And is so lame that you can’t laugh,
No matter how much
You want to and such?
What have you to say about that?

That it ain’t the same either way
Like it was back in the day?
Well, perhaps, then,
That’s a sign, dear friend,
Telling you to embrace a new day—

A day in which you’re the grownup
And must walk away from the kid stuff,
No mater how much
You don’t want to do such
A thing, no matter how tough

Doing so might be in the end.
That’s just the way things are, friend.
We must al leave our toys
For the next girls and boys
And prepare for what’s ‘round the bend.

After all, whoever knows?
Forever shan’t last your woes,
For surely there’s gold
‘Round a bend untold
Waiting for you, should you want it so.

Trust me, you’ll not know unless
You make it your effort best
To carry on down
The road to Grownup Town
And put your childhood to rest.

After all, no one’s a child forever,
And wallowing in pity will never
Allow you to move on,
So stand up and be strong
And prepare yourself for whatever

And always keep in mind, friend,
Even with your childhood at its end,
You still have memories
To help put you at ease
When your wits are coming to and end,

Not to mention the opportunity
To make more as you try to see
Your fortune unfold
And bring forth ventures bold
Via which to forge your destiny.

There’s only one way to see
What your life can come to be,
And that’s to get up
From the couch, ex-pup,
And accept your destiny.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Something New for the Young

Something New for the Young
December 27, 2016

Who doesn’t miss the good ol’ days, when things actually made sense,
When our elders cared about us and had wisdom to dispense
And imagination ran wild with all the stories out there
For us to watch and read with heroes and heels ‘bout whom we cared?

Who doesn’t miss the times when folks could easily captivate
Our minds with situations to which we could quickly relate
In settings so vivid and lively we almost wished we were there,
Yet were happy enough to visit, our memories trailing us everywhere?

I sure don’t I’ll admit. In fact, much to my shame,
Nostalgia often cripples me, and I’ve but myself to blame,
For in all my longing for that which I once knew, I keep failing to
Realize the fact that I have the power to see tomorrow through

The same way yesterday’s creators gave my generation
Food for our minds to feast on, even in today’s fallen nation—
Stories I still remember and forever will ‘til I die.
What about today’s kids, though? What have they to feed their eyes?

Why can’t they have heroes of their own whom they can look up to
Who’ll fight in the name of justice for the likes of me and you
Against many a villain foul as the heroes we once loved so
Did when we read and watched their adventures? That I’d like to know.

Why must we feed them second-rate hash like we’ve been doing
For Heaven knows how many years now? What’s the point in screwing
Them out of quality stuff like we had once upon a time?
That simply makes no sense to me. Does it to you, peers of mine?

Why recycle the same old brands and franchises over and over again
Until they no longer resemble the versions we knew back then?
Why mutilate a classic for a younger generation
When we can give them something more meaningful—a new sensation?

Do you realize how much we’ve been doing that over the years?
What’s with all the rebooting and remaking? Why he fear?
Have we lost faith in creativity and originality?
Is it simply ;bout the almighty dollar—guaranteed cash money?

Why can’t we all show some backbone and instead try something new
And give our kids some fresh brands to invest in and see through
To the very end the way we ex-kids did back in the day?
There was no harm in trying back then. Why not try again today?

That’s the way I look at it, and as a creator myself,
I’ll see to it that some new ideas do indeed reach shelves
As a means of carrying on the tradition I knew as a boy
And giving the kids of today stories that they can enjoy.

Such is my pledge from here on out, and I hope you understand
Why I see what I see as such a problem in this troubled land.
After all, the word “progress” means nothing when there’s no identity
To the era in which one lives, so it’s up to folks like me

To help the world move forward in our own odd little way,
Giving youths the escape they need from an unforgiving day,
For everyone needs an escape now and then, and Heaven knows I had mine,
And if there’s one thing I want nowadays, it’s to leave the same thing behind.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Anxiety

November 6, 2016

Anxiety is
Nothing with which to mess, friend.
It can wreck your life.

You may think you’ve got
Things under control, but then
Some stupid thing or

Other happens that
Twitches inside your mind and
Makes you act out in

Some way that makes you
Regret your actions later
And leave you ashamed

Of yourself for how
You portrayed yourself ‘fore the
Eyes of other folks.

Self-consciousness is
One thing, but when one becomes
So wrapped up in what

Oneself says, does, or
Looks like, things backfire so
Much and so often

That one’s previous
Preoccupation didn’t
Mean squat in the end.

Don’t even get me
Started on social matters
Where uneasiness

Is often enough
At its worst, making things tough
For those who suffer:

Thin skin, fragile nerves,
To all around you

And to each word you
Read or hear, no matter how
Each word might be meant.

It’s an exercise
In social and cognitive
Fitness, and unless

You’ve got what it takes
To endure whatever comes
Your way, no matter

How or from where it
Comes, chances are that you’ll snap
Under the pressure.

Many a kind soul
Has fallen prey to such a
Nasty condition,

Which has hence led him
Or her back from fulfilling
The potential he

Or she had to change
The world for the better, and
No, it isn’t fair.

It’s also unfair
That certain assholes in this
World feel the need to

Install such a state
Of mind into others by
Taking out their vile

Out on them day after day
In the vain hope of

Feeling good about
Themselves despite their childish,
Groundless, inhumane,

Unproductive, and
Outright petty behavior
That no sane person

Would tolerate and,
In reality, only
Helps those who resort

To it ease their own
Pain for a brief while ‘til their

Predictably ‘nough
Flare up again, hence giving
Them the excuse to

Start the whole cycle
Over again, thus proving
Just how weak they are,

And yet, they make those
Who don’t deserve to suffer
Suffer anyway.

Yeah, that’s…that’s just great—
Let’s spread our anxiety
Around like a plague

‘Til everyone feels
Our pain and this world becomes
Even more of a

Powder keg than it
Is already. Thanks a lot,
Assholes of the world!

Thanks for being such
Petty, narcissistic brats
And spreading the angst

‘Round ‘til everyone
Has ended up like you and
Thus making life more

Of a living hell
Than it had been already,
All because you twits

Personally can’t
Get your own lives together.
Thanks a lot, you schmucks!

In the meantime, let’s
All hope that the good people
Of the world can pull

Themselves together
So that they—and we—can all
Unite and heal this

Crippled world before
It goes further off the deep
End and our children

Must endure something
Even worse than what we have
Already, and if

The good folks happen
To need help, let’s give it to
Them so that they in

Turn can help us help
The world as a whole and thus
Make less room for fear

To fester. Take note:
The time is now, not later,
For the sooner we

Put anxiety
To rest, the sooner we all
Can move forward and

Enjoy a brighter
Day under Heaven’s hot sun
For years to come, so

Let’s work together
And put history in the
Past where it belongs.

Anxiety hurts,
After all, and only gets
Worse the longer we

Allow it to, so
Let’s do something about it
And all end the pain.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Anti-Generation Labeling Poem

Anti-Generation Labeling Poem
October 14, 2016

“Generations” are a joke
That I wish would go up in smoke—
Just shadows and shade
Artificially made
By scheming marketing blokes

For the purpose of selling their stuff
‘Cause age groups clearly just weren’t enough
To whom to hawk their wares
So they can earn their shares.
Now they’ve group names to make things less tough—

Names like the “Silent Generation,”
Saviors from communist invasion,
Then the “Baby Boomers,”
Those population bloomers
Whose births caused such a sensation

That conceived the notion for the name
And started this whole foolish game.
After them, who came next
But “Generation X,”
A title so “x-treme,” it’s plain—

So lame that it proved how much this trend
Was already getting, friends.
Then nineteen years away
From “Y2K,”
The “Millennials” came ‘round the bend.

’97 on…who the hell knows
Just what name the marketing schmoes
Will slap on those poor kids
Or what’s stacked on their skids
To sell them? ‘Cause that’s just how things go,

And not just economically,
But sadly also socially,
And with each generation
Living in this damned nation,
Crap gets worse, as one can plainly see,

For when young adulthood comes around
To such a group, society frowns
Down on them for their flaws
And considers no pause
In running them into the ground,

Accusing them of nothing less
Than absolute selfishness,
Prone to narcissism
And materialism,
Putting their patience to the test

Further with claims that they don’t care
‘Bout how anyone else but them fares
At work, home, or school,
The rude, snarky fools,
Putting in no effort anywhere!

Apparently, it’s all ‘bout their toys,
Those self-absorbed girls and boys,
Who’ve been handed it all,
Be each prize big or small,
So long as it brings them joy.

Then there’s how they tend to whine
When they don’t get their chance to shine—
Mainly ‘cause they’re, folks say,
Lazy pains in the A
Who refuse to put in any time

To achieve anything from life,
So they sit on their haunches and gripe
‘Bout how life’s too tough
As they beg for stuff
And rant on ‘bout their personal strife.

‘Tis a tradition mean in spirit,
And each age group is forced to hear it,
Whether they deserve to
Or it’s just one big poo
By the system as we’ve come to fear it,

And from one generation on,
Each has come to sing the same song,
Bemoaning the nation’s fate
And showering hate
‘Pon the young, even when they’re dead wrong.

The “Silent Generation” was first
To have their elders scorn them and worse
For being “lost,”
Which, in turn, cost
Them the quality of their verse

When the mocked stood fast ‘gainst their attacks
And with keen minds, bold hearts, and strong backs
Pushed forth and made their way
To conquer the day,
Proving wrong the naysaying pack.

The “Baby Boomers” came next,
Followed by “Generation X,”
And both, too, rose above
The sheer lack of love
Of their critics, leaving them vexed.

Now, though, the “Millennials” are
The ones being bashed wide and far
By generations before
For being “weird” and more
In spite of what likenesses are

Shared ‘tween them and, furthermore,
The challenges that’ve been in store
And still exist today
For them in many ways
That hinder their plight all the more

To rise ‘bove discrimination,
As had prior generations,
But the elders only see
Needy mooches too lazy
To earn themselves any salvation,

Having forgotten their own plight
When they were that age one night
And the sneering doubt
They felt in and out
‘Til the day they squared up to fight

To prove that they did have the gall
To come to terms with it all
And prove worthy of
Their elders’ love
As they answered adulthood’s call,

And here we are ages in the wake
Of these eras. Now it’s time to take
A stand, “Millennials,”
To shut up the lulz
And show you, too, have what it takes.

Rise above the stereotypes
That paint via your elders’ gripes.
Prove that you can work hard
No matter how hard
Each roadblock ‘fore you is to wipe.

Stand tall and let your spine and brain
Aid you in your pursuit to gain
The prestige and power
You seek at this hour
While your thickened skin shrugs off the pain.

Put to use every tool you can find
To score you the piece of mind
You need to make your mark
In these times oh so dark
And leave everyone’s flack well behind,

For you know that you’ve deep within
The grit that can help you win.
All you need is to shout
To let it all out,
“In your face, doubters! I’m gonna win!”

Then you make the most of what you’ve got
And show all that you’re not just some sot
Who just sits on your rump
Crying on ‘bout the dump
Where your toys take up every slot.

Then, as it all comes to an end,
I’ll bet you that ‘round the bend,
The glory you seek
Will be but a few feet
From where your feet shall be standing, friends.

After all, such was what the fate
Of your parents and grandparents, mates,
No matter how much
They’ll rant, rave, and such
‘Bout how they had it ‘fore they were great,

For no matter how different we are,
We’ve more similarities by far
Than we all realize
‘Cause we’re all gals and guys
Walking under heaven’s countless stars,

And when cut down to basic stuff,
All our lives have moments so tough
They become do or die,
And we either fly
Or squirm like worms ‘neath the rough,

Proving this whole “generations” bull
Just a waste of time we must annul,
Yet we still buy the hype
Of the stereotype
Of the lazy, whiny brat, thick in skull,

Which we all use to illustrate
Young folks just ‘cause we can’t relate
To them, or so we claim,
So we keep shoving blame
Onto them for things being not so great,

Even though once upon a time,
Our elders committed that same crime
‘Gainst us, as per the way,
Thus making us pay.
Knowing that, don’t you think it’s time

To put an end to this tradition
And all this petty attrition
Founded on made-up hate
T’wards whom we can relate
And can teach to form the right volition?

‘Tis an act that makes little sense
In the grand scheme. Hence, let’s dispense
Wisdom rather than scorn
Eve, afternoon, and morn
So we can see this world heal hence.

This blind bickering, after all,
Hasn’t helped us evade any fall,
So let’s knock it off now
‘Fore we falter—and how!—
And let the healing no longer stall,

For we’ve but one life guaranteed.
Let’s spend it helping those in need
So we all can move on
And sing happy songs
And Mother Earth ceases to bleed.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: No Handouts. Just Respect. (Generation Gap part II)

DISCLAIMER: The following poem is dedicated to everyone, regardless of whichever generation he or she has been born into, who is willing to overlook the superficial differences between his or her age group and those of the rest of the world and work with others, young and old alike, to help make the world a happier, healthier, safer, and overall better place within which to live. As such, no offense is meant towards any reader middle-aged or older who doesn’t hold a contemptuous attitude towards today’s young people, regardless of what flaws the more visible and audible members of said age group(s) have demonstrated over recent years. That being said, if I receive any sort of request to compose and post a poem directed towards today’s youth, chances are that I will fulfill such a request. That being said, please enjoy the composition below and feel free to share with whomever you believe will get anything out of what I’ve written.

Thank you.

Dustin M. Weber


No Handouts. Just Respect. (Generation Gap part II)
October 12, 2016

So here we go again, middle-agers and old timers, with this game,
Making fun of and insulting the younger generation
‘Cause our case was never like theirs. How narrow-minded, inane,
Narcissistic, childish, and petty of you “grown-ups” of the nation!

Yes…forget about looking beyond the superficial
Differences between us and them. Let’s just blindly attack
Today’s youth for whatever ignorance they possess. How judicial!
Seriously, though, no it isn’t, so stop being such two-faced hacks.

Stop playing the same belligerent game that the generations before
Yours did with you when you were young two to four decades ago.
Learn from your elders’ errors and stop being such self-centered bores.
Stop feeding off your own jadedness, and instead, try letting it go.

Stop whining and crying like you did with the “mess” your parents left you
Rather than simply screwing in your heels and cleaning it up
And showing the grit that would’ve earned you the glory you would’ve been due.
No…instead, you curled up in the corner like beaten pups

And whimpered and sniveled while your siblings got up and busted their asses
And tried to set things right for everyone, themselves included.
They didn’t waste time with arbitrarily assigned age groups and classes
Designed by marketers to sell their goods to those whom they’ve secluded,

Nor are your siblings crying foul over not getting what they deserve
For all the work they’ve put into helping society survive
In the wake of you indulging in your own sick vices, you pervs!
Yeah, thanks for keeping innuendo and crude language alive!

To think, too, that you solely blame the youngsters for their values,
Clearly blind to what you’ve been feeding them for a decade-plus now!
Can’t you see that it’s not them alone for our future being “screwed”—
That you, too, have played a part in its corruption? And how!

But no! You just blow it off like it’s not your problem anymore,
Regardless of how you’ve contributed to the problem at hand
And have failed to help your siblings right the wrongs that remain in store
For generations to come all ‘cause you’re too lazy to stand

And fight for a better future, even one from which you’ll be gone,
Free from the miscreants you claim are messing things up today.
Yes, such sickos indeed exist, but all amongst the young? No! Wrong!
Alas, I know you’ll just take the easy way out and say so anyway.

I’ve become so used to such flippancy from your kind for so long that I
Wonder why I even bother expecting you to act your ages.
After all, if the stereotypes that colored your generation were lies
That gave you a nasty reputation that has lasted through the ages,

Then what about those that likewise color the young people of today?
Aren’t they, too, exaggerations to a perceivable degree?
Aren’t there young people out there who’ve been working hard day after day
To overcome the personification you so all too often see?

Don’t you see young people contributing to society positively
And proving that they care about more than just their own wants and needs,
Battling the obstacles before them the way kids like you and me
Tried doing so back in our day, no matter how much they’d sweat and bleed?

Don’t you see them trying to shake off the vile stigma folks like you
Have smeared onto their generation like curdling butter on toast,
Regardless of their more recognized kindred who far too often poke through
And bare their faults for the world to see with little to nothing to boast?

There’s never just one side to any tale, which you should know well by this time,
What with the vicious pattern to which you’ve succumbed that you’ve come to repeat—
A carrying-on of a twisted tradition that’s proven tragic, pals of mine,
All ‘cause your kind’s taken the easy route, not the proper one, hence the defeat

Of society as we know it. Way to cave in to self-righteousness!
Way to ignore the problems that don’t directly affect you, sirs and ma’ams!
You could’ve been working with today’s youth to help them rise above the stress
And help them better carry things on for ages to come down the line. Hams!

Alas, you’ve made them all pariahs—a rule for which you’ve made no exception—
Insisting they’re all demanding handouts when all they really need are
The tools they need to overcome all that stands ‘tween them and resurrection
For a social structure that’s still in shambles and hence still bears quite a scar.

Quit writing them off as whiners, then, for I’m sure whining’s what you’d do
If you were faced with the odds today’s youth have been up against for so long.
Don’t write them all off as beggars, either, just ‘cause their kindred tend to.
That’s naught but a stereotype, and as you should know, such labels can be wrong.

If the stereotypes for your generations have been proven wrong time and again,
Then so can that which you’ve painted today’s youth with, so why not set aside
The hate and mistrust you have for them and work together with them, friends,
So that we all can rise from the ashes of a world that we’ve all thought has died?

Everyone has his or her baggage. Everyone bears a cross.
Everyone matters in the world’s grand scheme—more than we’ll every know,
And this segregation we’ve put on ourselves has only put us at a loss,
And if we don’t even try to overcome this absurdity, we’re at a loss.

It’s time to cut the crap, then, and move on together as one—
Beyond the superficiality to which we’ve all succumbed.
It’s time we all worked together beneath Heaven’s burning sun
And put an end to all our problems and not rest ‘til the job’s done.

To Hell with the notion of “handouts,” then, and all who ask for them!
Let’s instead show some respect to those who are willing to roll up their sleeves
And do their part in fixing and inheriting the world that awaits them
So that it’ll be strong by the time the old amongst us must leave.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: The YouTube Cyberbully

The YouTube Cyberbully
July 16, 2016

You get money for nothing more than sitting on your ass
You think you’re so damn funny when really, you’re just crass.
You stir up crap that most normal folks don’t care about
And claim you’re just an entertainer, but I have my doubts.

You go out of your way to look for targets to attack,
Most of whom don’t have your following and thus can’t fight back—
Especially against your fans, who tease and taunt them as well
And even outright wish them death and tell them to rot in Hell,

And you do nothing to stop them, even though what you do
Is supposedly fun and satire, though I beg to differ with you,
For what’s the thrill in humiliating folks you don’t even know
And who aren’t as public as you are, yet still giving them woe?

Where’s the humor or logic? I just don’t see it at all.
What is it about these strangers that makes you want to see them fall?
Where’s your moral code of conduct when it comes to matters like this?
That’s something I’d really like to know, for I just don’t get your gist.

The fact that you make money, too, from doing this makes me sick,
‘Specially since countless honest, hard-working folks still live in the sticks
‘Cause their jobs don’t pay them what they’re worth, if they even have jobs at all,
And yet, you’re making Heaven knows how much having yourself a ball

Making monkeys out of men and women for reasons only you know,
Making friends with so many people for making fun of the poor shmoes,
And even using titles and pics guaranteed to reel in a crowd,
No matter how stupid or tacky they are, ‘cause it’s all about being loud

And obnoxious enough to draw a crowd, no matter the publicity,
For good or bad, it’s all the same for you, ’cause all you see
Is the fact that you’re getting attention, making you feel as though you
Mean something in the grand scheme of things, no matter how out of the blue

Said meaning has come. Well, guess what, Jack: I’ve got news for you.
You’re just another schmuck at the end of the day, no matter what you
Do or say to get the attention you so clearly desire,
And at the end of the day, after all has come down under the wire,

I can’t help but wonder just why it is you crave so much attention
In the first place. Tell me, then, if there’s a motive you’d like to mention.
Have you ever had any friends at all? Have the friends you once had moved on?
Did your parents care for you regularly? Tell me…what is your song?

Maybe once I understand just what goes on inside your brain,
I’ll learn to comprehend what you get from causing the kind of pain
You’ve delighted in causing others for so long and also exactly what
Your fans see in you despite surely knowing that all you make is smut.

Until then, I hope you grow up one day and see the error of your ways,
For you may be making a profit now, but in the end, your deeds won’t pay
Anyone, save for the piper when karma finally catches up to you
And makes you pay out the ass for your misdeeds, and then, you’ll be screwed.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com