Poem of the Week: First Impressions of iWitness

First Impressions of iWitness
August 7, 2017

Watching Internet vids to earn money,
Cataloguing ev’ry minor detail.
Sadly, the host’s not the least bit funny,
And personality-wise, he’s a fail.
Campy scenes that go by in an eye’s blink
From which the players gather their info…
The base idea itself doesn’t stink,
But the vids themselves kinda bore me so,
Featuring the same schlocky YouTube flair
I’ve seen so often it makes my head spin.
I’m thus not sure whether or not to care
‘Bout what value this show may have within.
Guess I’ll have to give it one more fair shot
To see if I like this program or not.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Advertisements

Poem of the Week: Haste Makes Waste

Haste Makes Waste
August 4, 2017

Haste
Rushed job
Hurrying, scurrying, panicking
That’s when mistakes happen
Misthinking, misdoing, backfiring
Big mess
Waste

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Empty

Empty
July 28, 2017

Empty.
Nothing there.
Puzzling, pondering, stalling.
I’ve got jack squat.
Irritating, frustrating, embarrassing…
Forget this!
Bedtime.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Visions of a Working Class Writer

Visions of a Working Class Writer
July 16, 2017

Born and raised on pizza, burgers and fries,
And other simple stuff that my folks could buy
As they slaved away to keep a roof over my head
And clothes on my back as well as our daily bread.

We never had cable programming on our TV.
Heck, we couldn’t even tune in to Fox to see
The kind of shows they had on any given night—
Just roaring, flickering noise set to screens of black and white.

Any luxury we had, we clung onto like it was gold,
For only Heaven knew the kind of future we’d behold,
Had any of us progressed beyond our working class ways,
And even now, I’m dreaming of what I hope are better days—

Days where I no longer have to break my back or my feet
Hauling heavy boxes while traversing winding streets,
Where I no longer sweat through my clothes within the first hour
And the first thing I do when I get home is take a shower,

Days where my head doesn’t throbs to where I must take a nap
To sleep away my pain like a cat in its owner’s lap,
Where going on adventures actually means something
And being paid for my creativity at last becomes a thing.

Alas, I haven’t hit that point, though I can already see
The kind of lowlifes with which I’d have to cope that await me:
Purists who sneer at that which doesn’t flow a certain way,
Money grubbers who just care ‘bout how much one’s work will pay,

Egotists who scold those who don’t “get” things right away,
Artsy farts who praise style over substance any day,
Snarky twerps who mock others’ works behind their backs,
Soulless attention gluttons and other mindless hacks,

Mindless, trend-following drones who don’t know their history
And fail to remember how things once upon a time used to be.
Such and more are the scumbags who await those who, like me,
Dare to dream big and make it, and yet I still aim to be

One of the greatest in my field, my name forever ringing
Throughout history for my contributions, the masses forever singing,
And I know I can’t stop until that dream at last becomes real,
No matter whom I cross paths with. Such is my present deal.

There is another thing, though, that I aim to keep in mind:
The humble, happy boy I once was shan’t be left behind,
For no matter how big I get, I’ll remember always
Exactly whom I used to be prior to seeing brighter days,

The upbringing I had, and the things I’ve lived without,
And no matter how much longer it takes, I shan’t pout
On the day my dream comes true, for should I spit in the face
Of success when it falls upon me, I’ll be put back in my place.

Such is a fate I can’t afford to face anymore.
It’s now or never with me to see just what’s in store
For me in my journey to finally realize my dream.
Who knows? Even with the fools, things might be better than they seem.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: A Rather Blunt Blitz Poem about Intergender Violence

A Rather Blunt Blitz Poem about Intergender Violence
July 14, 2017

Sick of the double standard
Sick of the hypocrisy
Hypocrisy regarding gender
Hypocrisy regarding violence
Violence against women
Violence against men
Men hitting each other
Men hitting women
Women hitting men
Women hitting each other
Other people may disagree
Other people too blind to see
See the big picture
See what’s wrong
Wrong with our way of thinking
Wrong with people hitting people
People need to wake up
People need to realize
Realize what they’re promoting
Realize what they’re saying
Saying it’s a matter of size
Saying it’s a matter of gender status
Status in American
Status worldwide
Worldwide no-no
Worldwide taboo
Taboo for a number of reasons
Taboo we’ll never shake
Shake after so many decades
Shake after so many generations
Generations defending the notion blindly
Generations never stopping to think
Think in simpler terms
Think along a different line
Line of logic
Line of reality
Reality beyond one side of the story
Reality concerning violence
Violence against anyone
Violence is wrong
Wrong outside of self-defense
Wrong outside of a sanctioned fight
Fight for truth
Fight for equality
Equality between both genders
Equality we’ve long needed
Needed to grow
Needed to move on up
Grow
Up

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Retro-Reviewing Egomaniac

Retro-Reviewing Egomania
July 4, 2017

Talk, talk, talk—that’s what you like to do,
But little did you realize, friend,
That the more you open your mouth, the further in your foot
Goes in to choke you out in the end.

You sit there on your ass, flaunting your accomplishments,
Claiming superiority where you please,
Proudly sporting your fauxhawk, neckbeard, and thick-rimmed specs
As you ridicule others’ childhood memories.

“Oh, wow! What a lazy premise! What a shameless rip-off!
What cheesy music and animation!
I can’t believe folks actually watched this back in the day.”
Such is what you spew across the nation.

“Good grief! What a hokey scene! What a way to throw logic
Out the window just to tell a story.”
Hey, you’re the one who bothered digging up trash
From the past to show the world in all its glory.

Honestly, do you think we don’t know trash when we see it
With our own eyes and hear with our own ears,
Especially when it’s been out long enough for ourselves
To witness with embarrassment and fear?

Do you really think we need some snarky, immature know-it-all
Showing and telling what we can find out
Ourselves without any guidance? Please! Stop with the insults
‘Cause that’s what you seem to be all about,

So spend your free time doing something far more constructive
And meaningful in the long run of it all
Like warning us of the crap that’s been flooding the mainstream
Today before society further falls

Into ruin just as you claim it had back in the day
With the ages-old dreck you bash presently.
Seriously, you think the past sucked? Well, today’s not much better.
Just look around you, and you’ll see.

Once you do, I hope you at last come to see the light
And put your supposed knowledge to the test
To purge the world of ignorance—hopefully forever—
And put the media’s faults to rest.

Take the hint, then, cocky boy, and clean up your act.
Stop ragging on that which has long past
And do all you can to help us all move forward
And craft memories meant to last.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Bonus Poem of the Week: Happy Birthday, America!

Happy Birthday, America!
July 2, 2017

Independence
Annual holiday
Gathering, grilling, picnicking
Then come the fireworks
Sparkling, exploding, shining
Patriotic reminders
Celebration

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

American flag photograph courtesy of Techavy.com. The attatched poem, however, is the author’s own.

Poem of the Week: Fake Friends

Fake Friends
June 23, 2017

Fake friends
Fake fans
Fans of no one else
Fans of only themselves
Themselves they care about
Themselves topics of interest
Interest in others shown
Interest in others feigned
Feigned support
Feigned effort
Effort in their own content
Effort in their own design
Design all identical
Design so lazy
Lazy and sparse
Lazy and nonexistent
Nonexistent quality
Nonexistent care
Care for their audience
Care for their content
Content with no context
Content that’s all show, no tell
Tell no recipes
Tell no stories
Stories of the subject
Stories behind the image
Image with no purpose
Image with no meaning
Meaning for existence
Meaning beyond what it is
Is this what the world has come to?
Is this what people want to see
See for years to come
See rather than well-written articles
Articles with actual thought and effort
Articles that entertain and educate
Educate about the world
Educate about life
Life outside of the Internet
Life lessons we all must learn
Learn to identify these posers
Learn to see through their ruse
Ruse of friendship
Ruse of support
Support those who work hard
Support those who care
Care about you
Care about the things that matter
You
Matter

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Yet Another Minooka Telemarketing Poem

Yet Another Minooka Telemarketing Poem
June 17, 2017

Ring, ring, ring! Who can it be again
After we’ve been solicitor-free since Time knows when?
Quarter past one on a weekday afternoon,
Second week of summer. Who’d be calling so soon?

Well, son of a gun! Look at the Caller ID.
Is that the word “Minooka” flashing back at me?
The number may be different, but the name’s the same
As that of the solicitors that last year drove me insane.

Well, newsflash! I’m not picking up for them. No way!
I refuse to let these Minooka jerks ruin my day
And insist I donate to some charity they won’t name.
I’m far too wise to that trash to try to play that game.

I know that charity collectors who collect over the phone
Take the brunt of the donations made to them for their own
And give what pennies are left to whatever charities
They represent, not caring if the recipients are on their knees,

Begging for the relief that they deserve directly
And not over the phone from the likes of you or me,
Especially if the handlers end up pocketing the cash
For their own benefit, adding it to their private stash.

Worse yet is how “Minooka” just won’t leave us alone,
Even after we’ve told them bluntly to stop calling us on the phone.
For a while, matters seemed alright ‘til they rang us up again
Using this other number, which I’m sure they had way back when.

So much for a call blocker, then, for those who used such a thing
To protect themselves from one number only for their phones to ring
When Minooka calls from this other line, persistent as they are.
Well, guess what: When it comes to us, they won’t get us too far.

I’m on to you, Minooka, and if you call us again,
I’ll turn you in to the FTC to have you shut down by them.
Let’s see you earn your money then with no one to harass
And no charities to exploit once they’ve locked away your ass.

Good riddance, then, Minooka, and hopefully once and for all.
After all the times you’ve troubled us, I hope you finally fall.
You’re nothing but a greedy pest begging to be put down,
And I doubt I’ll be alone cheering when you’re no longer around.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Sick of the Bickering

Sick of the Bickering
June 6, 2017

Sick of the bickering, sick of the hating,
Sick of the insults we’ve all been trading,
Sick of the radicals pointing fingers
At each other and feeding that which lingers,
Sick of the drama and emotional sting
Upon which we’re all fixed over the slightest thing,
Sick of that which we but start to address,
Yet fail to solve day in, day out without rest,
Sick of double standards and self-servitude,
Sick of people being patronizing and rude,
Sick of name-calling and accusations,
Sick of twisted truths sweeping ‘cross the nation,
Sick of each lie and excuse I read and hear,
Sick of the blind hatred and unjustified fear,
Sick of the agendas tainting everyone’s mind,
Sick of insulting labels slapped on everyone’s behind,
Sick of thin-skinned brats fighting fire with fire
With the slightest misspoke word stoking folks’ ire,
Sick of the followers of a given cause
Getting their backs ‘gainst a wall, not stopping to pause
And think about their mission and what makes it great
As well as those who plague it with their hate,
Which they use to bash outsiders, their chosen enemies,
When they’ve obstacles already to pass with little ease.
Sick of propaganda being shoved in my face
And folks without my code calling me a disgrace
For keeping my own counsel and following my own rules
And not suffering those who take me for a fool
And talking down to me like I don’t know better
When my sensibilities have helped me weather
More crap than they could even start to understand
In this bitter, paranoid powder keg of a land.
Never will they get it ‘cause they’re too blind
To see how I keep from falling behind.
Outside looking in, I’ve got the edge,
Ears wide open as I peek over the hedge
And see for myself what the hell’s going on
And tune in to the ever-nauseating song
We’ve been hearing for years, if not, in fact, decades
While society all around us further degrades
Into something even more tragic than before,
And it’s gotten to where we clearly can handle no more.
When will we grow up? When will we move on?
When will we sing something other than the same song
We’ve all been singing for clearly way too long?
When will we realize we’ve been doing it wrong?
When will we at last learn that disdain’s not the way
We need to follow if we’re to bring in a better day?
Something’s got to change. Something’s got to give
‘Cause I’m sick of how things are now. They’re no way to live.
It’s time to wake up, people, if we ever hope
To reach even the base of Xanadu’s mighty slopes,
Much less their pinnacles, where we long should’ve been,
So let’s stop it with these feuds we’ve been in
And learn to work together before it’s too late.
Let go of your anger, rise above your hate,
And let’s learn to cooperate so that we
Can ensure a brighter future for you and me.
No more lashing out, bickering, or hating,
No more of the insults we’ve been trading,
Or any of the other crap that’s made me sick.
I’m sure you all, too, have had enough of it.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk