Poem of the Week: Boob Tube Poem 2018

Boob Tube Poem 2018
July 1, 2018

I saw a show once that was so bad that it made me want to cry.
The acting was so forced that it made a part of me inside die.
The writing, furthermore, was stilted from scene to bloody scene
From dialogue to characters’ acts, and it made me want to scream.
The camerawork was trash, too, as it missed important spots,
And the editing was over-the-top and nearly caused my brain to rot.
What could I do, then, other than tune out from this disgraceful tripe
And change the channel to something else about which I couldn’t gripe—
Something I could sink my teeth into and enjoy honestly
Without insulting my intellect or bringing me to insanity?
After all, with multiple channels to watch at the press of a button,
What excuse to I or anyone else have to be a punishment glutton?
That’s with regular TV alone, never mind cable or satellite
Or digital TV or streaming services to further make things right.
Of course, I can always turn off the ol’ boob tube if I choose
Rather than sit still and let myself cave in to the need for booze
To bleach my brain of the mental stains that the garbage on my screen
Is bound to leave, lest I do something in the first place to keep it clean
And go do something worthier of my time and hopefully hone my skills
In my quest to, in one way or another, squash society’s ills
Like write a poem or book or even a post on an SM account—
Anything to make a name for myself and make my message count
And help change the way society thinks of media these days
From TV and film to music and books, for someone must pave the way
For quality storytelling just like the world’s Jerry Springers
Have paved the way for smut and thus run media through a wringer,
And if no one else will take a stand, then by all means, I will
And do al I can to save the world from the careless, mindless swill
It’s been drowning in for decades, so look out, everyone,
As I screw in my heels and get to work sending trash on the run
And do my part to cease the cycle the business has been in.
Enough is enough of the lowbrow stuff! Time to purge all this sin!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk
Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

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Poem of the Week: Hollywood Bankrupt

Hollywood Bankrupt
May 4, 2018

Intellectual bankruptcy
Intellectual failure
Failure to create
Failure to produce
Produce entertainment
Produce stories
Stories to inspire
Stories to last
Last a lifetime
Last for generations
Generations who grow up fans
Generations who share memories
Memories with friends
Memories with kids
Kids who become fans themselves
Kids nowadays are denied that luxury
Luxury of good storytelling
Luxury of legendary characters
Characters who resonate
Characters who inspire
Inspire audiences to become great
Inspire audiences to do great
Great things await great people
Great people produce great things
Things at least used to be that way
Things nowadays are lazy and cheap
Cheap promotion
Cheap cash grabs
Grabs for nostalgia
Grabs for special interest approval
Approval from those seeking validation
Approval lost from genuine supporters
Supporters who used to pay eagerly
Supporters who now pay dearly
Dearly no thanks to hollowness
Dearly no thanks to emptiness
Emptiness before their eyes
Emptiness in their hearts
Hearts that no longer beat
Hearts that have grown cold
Cold with glory now gone
Cold, sterile, and bitter
Bitter tempers
Bitter time
Time to stop this lunacy
Time to purge this toxic behavior
Behavior in Hollywood
Behavior of the bankrupt
Hollywood
Bankrupt

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Spring 2018 in the Midwest

Spring 2018 in the Midwest
April 27, 2018

Spring
Finally here
Thawing, melting, reawakening
About time, Mother Nature!
Shining, sprouting, singing
Green season
Yes!

*****

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

Poem of the Week: X vs. Y in the 2010s (and Where I Hope It Leads into the 2020s)

X vs. Y in the 2010s (and Where I Hope It Leads into the 2020s)
March 19, 2018

You damn dirty Millennials! You’re ruining everything.
You’re hogging the limelight meant to show us doing our thing.
You and your stupid selfies clogging up the Internet,
And everything these days is so catered to you, it makes me sweat.
Isn’t it enough that the Baby Boomers fed you trophies and toys,
Even when you didn’t earn them while all the girls and boys
Of my generation busted our asses for nothing in return
And now must clean up the Boomers’ mess as they leave this world to burn.
You’re not even helping us, either, with this mantle we’ve taken up.
You’re just sitting there fiddling with your goofy gadgets, pups,
Flipping your fecal matter on your blogs on Deviant Art
Over the pettiest of things as though you’re falling apart
At the seems like scarecrows who’ve been torn to pieces by crows.
When you’ll stop such childish melodrama, only Heaven knows,
For you’ve been oversensitive since day one of your ascent
Like the special snowflakes you all are—like wire, so easily bent.
Only Heaven knows, too, just how many of your own kind
Have taken to blogs and YouTube to rag on the terms you grind
Out like “hater,” “YOLO,” “butthurt,” “triggered”—I could go on,
But I think you get my point, basement dwellers, so buzz off and so long.
Enjoy your safe spaces, your job-hopping, your short attention spans,
And your reputation as the worst generation in all the land.

Get over yourself, you Gen-X jerk—you embittered, middle-aged creep!
You claim we’re self-entitled and that it’s justice you seek
For us “stealing” the limelight you could’ve had, had you screwed your heels in
And dealt with your own problems like the grownups you should’ve been?
We never asked for “millennial pink” or all the petty shots
We’ve taken from you and the Boomers both while dealing with what we’ve got
Like student loans and fruitless career paths towards high-paying fields.
We’ve planted more seeds for success than you know that have yet to yield,
Yet you, flippant cowards you are, see the scumbags ‘mongst our kind
And act like they represent us all and conclude in your lazy minds
That we’re all in need of burial for their misdeeds. Uh, yeah…no.
Besides, Gen-X isn’t perfect, as you ignorantly prove so
With your tired, run-of-the-mill arguments that you still use constantly
From behind the safety of your keyboards with bitter jealousy
At all the attention we’re getting, positive and negative alike,
While the Boomers laugh at you living up to your long-spun stereotype:
Unambitious and whiny in the face of a daunting world,
Unable to cope with change like us “spoiled” “little boys and girls”
While your fellow Gen-Xers have let go of the angst you still bear
Like insecure children in the face of a world that no longer cares
To listen to the same old song you’ve sung since 199x.
Serves you right for not paying full attention to “Generation Next.”
It’s not our fault you’ve allowed your own potential to rot and rust,
So knock of the pseudo-badass schtick. You’re not impressing us.
In fact, you’re just embarrassing yourself with your childish act.
Grow up yourself and go away, and please never come back.

No way! You’ve taken everything from us, and now I’m here
To take it back on my gen’s behalf so that we can have some cheer.
If by “everything” you mean your tacky humor, you can have it,
But as for our war against bigotry, we’ll fight it as we see fit.
How? Via “social justice” like what you’ve been spewing out as of late?
No. By rising above your example and not spreading hate.
Please! You’re just as bad as we are when it comes to showing class.
Cut out the sanctimony, then, and blow it out your ass.
We could say the same to you with your fix on media past.
Stop rebooting that which we’ve seen already and give us new stuff that’ll last.
Otherwise, we’ll take over and do the job ourselves in that respect
Just like we’ve been trying to do with bullying—Which you haven’t fixed yet,
Not that you’ll ever fix it, though, for kids will always be mean.
Baby our kids if you must, but you’ll never change how things have been.
Well, not at the rate things are going, what with you being the brats you are,
But surely even you’ve seen how bullying’s escalated since the scar
Of a certain school shooting from ’99 that’s been immortalized.
How much further must things escalate? How many more kids must die
‘Til we realize how bad bullying’s become over the course of all these years?
It’s not just name-calling anymore. We’re talking full violence here…
But no–we’re just melodramatic, right? Self-entitled, too, to boot?
Just wrapped up in ourselves alone and all our precious loot?
Again, that’s only the degenerates amongst us you hear and see,
And should you ever step back to see the bigger picture, you’d surely see
That the more amongst us have been working towards the greater good,
Be it for the sake of the whole word or just our own neighborhoods.
Besides, if you further took the time to cast a look our way,
You’d see that we’re more like you than you’d care to admit in any way.
We’re trying to carve our own path in this oh-so-messy array
And are working just as hard as you to see to a brighter day.
The problem is it’s not always easy, especially with your kind
Constantly ragging on us for our faults when we’re trying to leave behind
The days when we were immature just as you were in your day,
So either kindly help us help the world move on, or stay out of our way.




Okay, look, if you’re being honest ‘bout helping the world move on,
I’ll consider working together with you to fix all that’s wrong.
I’ll even coax my fellow Xers to come and lend us a hand.
It’s just that I’m sick and tired of living in such a messed-up land.
All the violence, disease, and corruption ‘round us—will it ever stop?
Not if we keep bickering like we’ve been with each other, pops,
‘Cause every generation has its winners and its losers as well,
And while we all want the losers to buzz off and go to Hell,
We can’t always be so quick to damn the winners to Hell with them,
For sweeping generalizations weren’t worth even a damn back when
The Boomers were calling you lazy, self-absorbed, and bitter brats,
Nor when the Silent Generation was calling them indolent ass-hats.
I could go on, but you get the point ‘bout this cycle that needs to end.
Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Well…in that case, put ‘er there, friend.
We’ve got more in common than I’d thought and ought to work together,
And if either of our generations hopes to survive the nasty weather
That’s messed up this nation since the new century happened to be,
Then let’s both set aside our differences in the face of adversity.
I just hope we can clean up this mess before it’s too late.
Hey, even if we can’t, your support is something I appreciate.
In the meantime, let’s put our noses to the grindstone and prove
That our combined efforts are a force that’ll help this country move
In the right direction, come Hell or high water, for only teamwork can see
America return to its former glory for you, the next gen, and me.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Early March Weather

Early March Weather
March 9, 2018

March…
Fickle weather…
Snowing, raining, blowing…
Isn’t spring here yet?
Waiting, wondering, sighing…
Begone, winter!
Thaw!

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Age of the Disclaimer

Age of the Disclaimer
March 1, 2018

‘Tis the age of the disclaimer, for ignorance knows no bounds
As the overzealous, oversensitive masses quickly sound
Off with their disgruntlement at the drop of a hat,
No matter if one’s right or wrong, for they don’t care about that—
Not as much, that is, compared to whether or not they agree
With the words of whoever’s speaking about Topic A, B, or C,
And should said speaker say one wrong word, no matter the intention,
He or she runs the fatal risk of provoking contention
From his or her audience at hand for wrong or for right,
For even the sound-minded can find fault in what one writes
Or speaks, and understandably so, seeing as words can mean
One thing or another, depending on the context in which they’re seen,
And if even the discerning can find fault in any message at hand,
Imagine the aforementioned masses forming a frothing band
And demanding the speaker’s severed head on a platinum platter,
And whether his or her goal is noble or wicked won’t matter.
Sure, it wouldn’t kill folks to slow down for once and think,
But in this world, where laziness and brain farts literally stink
Up the air we all breathe, none can take such a chance,
Thus leaving it to us speakers to do a verbal dance
And construct our own messages carefully so that none can take us
Out of context whenever we say whatever we must,
For those of us who mean well can’t afford the same reputation
Of the same rabble-rousing fools who’re the scourge of each nation
That allows free speech, even to those who’ve no grounds to speak
Based on the blatant ignorance that makes their arguments weak.
We know we’re bigger than that and thus have what it takes
To challenge the global status quo and all the errors it makes,
So let’s avoid coming off like condescending egotists
And be smarter with how we phrase things so that all get the gist
Of that with which we take issue and wish folks would rearrange
So that society’s standards in the end for the better can change,
And if that means using disclaimers to cover our tails, so be it.
It’s better for us in the long run for when we say what we see fit—
All the better to show the thought we put into what we say
In hopes of spreading wisdom that all may absorb one day,
And gone that day will be the crap that’s held humanity back
From attaining the morality we all for too long have lacked.

*****

 

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

Poem of the Week: Rambling about Dreams

Rambling about Dreams
December 17, 2017

Had a dream the other night, and not a pleasant one.
I was at a bowling alley with my family not having fun.
The place was crowded cheek to cheek and deafening as hell,
And the bowling we did was abysmal, as I’m sure you could tell.

Why I dreamt it, I’ll never know, but one thing I do know
Is that I’m glad it was a dream and that I’m spared the woe
Of having to live it for real, for I’ve enough grief and pain
To deal with in the real world threatening to kill my brain.

I don’t remember doing anything lately related to bowling,
So why would I dream about it? Just who or what is controlling
My train of thought when I’m asleep? Are these visions of mine
Perhaps from a life I’ve lived elsewhen that I’ve somehow left behind?

Are these visions of a future that has yet to come
Or the memories of some other soul caught, too, in a mental slum?
Are they trying to teach me a lesson or merely telling a tale
Meant solely to entertain me? The truth here might help me prevail

In my career, for who knows just where inspiration lies?
Maybe these dreams are for my own good and come to me so that I
Can craft new stories with them that folks have yet to hear and see.
That notion at least sounds promising, but something else troubles me:

What if these dreams are reminders of the schmuck I used to be
And a lifestyle I’m not proud of and have tried to leave behind me?
The events may have been reforged, but my old persona remains,
Portraying my faults, and if that’s the case, maybe I’ve something to gain.

There’s the birthday dream, after all, in which I kicked a hole
In the speaker of my birthday present: an expensive stereo.
There’s the dream where I worked at a department store and wouldn’t help
Any customers because I was such a prickly, nervous whelp.

I’ve even had many dreams in which I was made to relive high school,
Getting lost, losing my locker combo, or otherwise playing fool.
All these dreams remind me in one way or another
The problems I’ve tried to leave behind me in some way or other,

Even though the memories remain, much to my chagrin,
No matter how much I move on from them or the situation I’m in,
For in my dreams, they haunt me and may stay with me ‘til I die,
Which is why I try to purge them in my efforts to find out why

I dream, for surely my dreams mean something to me somehow
In the grand scheme of things…or I’m just having a cow,
Trying to read something from nothing in the long run,
And I should give up right now while I’m sane ‘til my name’s done.

After all, all this pondering’s been annoying even me,
For is there really one thing that all my dreams are meant to be?
Each dream needs to be treated like its own unique entity
In the instance I should analyze it learn what it means to me.

Each dream tells its own story, no matter the genre at hand,
And only by dissecting it by itself will I come to understand
The meaning of the dreams I have as they come to me at night,
And once that at last happens, there’s no stopping me, brother.

On that note, then, dreams, come on out, wherever you are,
And riddle my mind with wonder, whether you be near or far.
Paradise or purgatory, Nightwish or nightmare,
I’ll be ready for you, so come at me if you dare.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: A Long-Overdue Rant on Internet Grammar in the 2010s

A Long-Overdue Rant on Internet Grammar in the 2010s
January 9, 2018

Fifteen to twenty years ago, when I’d surf the ‘Net,
Grammar made sense just like it did in school.
Nowadays, though, old man that I am, I can’t help but fret
At how today’s folks write ‘cause it isn’t cool.

Miscaps here, misspellings there, lack of punctuation all around—
It’s all enough to make me sick to my gut.
I hate the way it looks on screen and even the way it sounds
When I read it aloud and witness the kind of rut

Society’s now in mentally ‘cause honestly, what the hell
Has become of us from a written point of view?
We used to be so neat and concise, but these days, all’s not well.
Where did we go so wrong out of the blue?

Have we really gotten so stressed for time that we cannot bear
To take a moment to write a sentence right,
Or have we just gotten lazy and stopped giving any care
To what we publish on the Internet day and night?

I only ask ‘cause not only is our grammar collectively
Devolving, but so is our sense of thought,
For no longer do we think through what we want others to see
Or hear, even though deep down we know we ought.

Somebody stinks at something? We scold them, “Git gud, scrub!”
Something angers us? We type IN ALL CAPS
With multiple exclamation points ‘cause we’re just that livid, bub,
And are in that serious need of a nap.

Its versus It’s, Then versus Than, There versus They’re versus Their
Not to mention Yore versus You’re versus Your
This misuse of similar-sounding words is more than I can bear…
And yes…bear! Not bare. Leave that at the door

Right along with your ellipses used in the place of periods
‘Cause they’re made of three periods themselves, right?
Also, Dont versus Don’t? Isnt versus Isn’t? Whose teaching these kids
How to not use apostrophes day and night?

Notice, too, how I used Also to start a sentence rather than And
Like we ‘80s kids were taught once upon a time,
For conjunctions’ function is to join sentences and fragments at hand,
Not start them like we do now, friends of mine.

Alas, though, each mid-paragraph, it’s And, But, Or all day,
Every day like it’s nobody else’s bloody biz,
Right along with the double negatives like don’t none and ain’t no way.
It’s insulting, even to one who’s not a grammar wiz.

Comparative forms in adjectives these days also makes me mad.
I’m sure you, too, have noticed this vexing matter,
For kids and even adults now say more hairy, more petty, and more sad
As opposed to hairier, pettier, and sadder.

To think, too, I’ve only scratched the surface of this steaming mess,
And the more I look, the less relief I see.
I know it’s petty and paranoid of me, but I can’t rest
As I wonder where the world’s literacy could be.

Am I overreacting? Are things really that bad?
Will we ever revolve from where we are now?
All I know is how all this bad grammar’s been making me sad
And wish that we could go back some way, somehow.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Poem of Hope for 2018

Poem of Hope for 2018
December 30, 2017

A new year is fast approaching, my friends.
Say goodbye to the year we’ve come to know.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

Well, folks, a new year’s coming ‘round the bend.
What good will it bring? Only Heaven knows.
A new year is fast approaching, my friends.

To all who’ve shown support, my thanks I send.
May good fortune be wherever you go.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

May somebody always be there to lend
You a helping hand, should you need it so.
A new year is fast approaching, my friends.

After all, it could be that we must fend
For ourselves, should the future bear us woe.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

Cross your fingers, then, for when this year ends,
Its foul or fresh nature we shall soon know.
A new year is fast approaching, my friends.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: The Week Before Christmas

The Week Before Christmas
December 19, 2018

‘Tis the week before Christmas without snow on the ground.
I’ve looked all around, but nope—none I’ve found.
No chilly white fluff, just hard grey and brown
With tiny green spikes poking out all around.

To think, too, ‘tis December in Illinois,
Yet there’s no snow around to bring Christmas joy.
What a kick to the teeth for today’s boys and girls
Who’ll never know Christmas as it went in my world!

Back in those days, we’d have at least enough
Snow from which we made snowfolks, snow forts, and stuff;
Upon which we rode our sleds down this and that hill
And that we balled up and threw at each other ‘til

Our parents called for us to come on in from the cold
And have ourselves some soup with flavors rich and bold
And perhaps some hot chocolate as we hunkered down
‘Round the fireplace to listen to the joyous sounds

Of Christmas carols playing on the radio
As the lights all around us twinkled and glowed
With a subtle, supple glimmer that reminded us all
Of the time of year it was—not spring, summer, or fall,

But early winter, and Christmastime, too,
A time where kids could shake off the year’s blues
And enjoy life with friends and family,
Especially with so much to hear and see

As well as do for but a few weeks
‘Fore life elsewhen dares once again to sneak
Back upon us and reintroduce the mundane
‘Til another year passes, when we’d do it all again.

Granted, snow wasn’t the be-and-end-all
When it came to Christmastime great and small,
But it helped us get into a Christmassy mood—
A jolly, serene, and hopeful attitude—

And helped make the season feel all the better,
With or without the notoriously gaudy sweaters.
Heck, even a mere ten, fifteen years ago,
The Holidays felt more natural with snow.

Now, though, the ground’s barren of the chilly white fluff
As if Mother Nature Herself has had enough
Of keeping up with the seasons and stuff,
And by no means does it feel like any bluff.

‘Tis a crying shame, I will not lie,
For this Christmastime’s been passing me by
With a vengeance as I’ve been trying to sort out
So much else in my life that I can’t help but shout

Against the Fates for all I’ve been through,
And with no Christmas snow falling out of blue,
I’ve one less reason to have holiday cheer,
Making Christmas a non-thing for me this year,

Which hurts in that Christmas usually
Is a season that brings out the best in me
And helps me be the best person I can be
In one way or another, but now look at me:

I’m a crabby sad sack complaining about snow
Or the lack thereof it. What a way to go!
Surely there’s something better I can do
To set my mind straight again and see me through,

For truth be told, ladies, gents, boys, and girls,
“Green” Christmases aren’t the end of the world,
So long as one keeps strongly within one’s heart
The spirit of the season. That’s one way to start.

Sure, snow helps set the stage for the season,
But the absence of it alone is no reason
To not spend time with those you hold dear to you,
For only sharing can see you through—

Sharing the kindness, respect, and love
That Christ Himself, who now resides high above,
Had taught us all once upon a time
To have for all people during our time

And instill that same value in those we meet,
Regardless of season or where we chance to meet
Those to whom we pass on this life-long lesson
And share ‘round these times a holiday blessin’.

I guess on that note, then, I still have hope
In having a Merry Christmas even if the slopes
And valleys ‘round me aren’t smothered in white.
Knowing that, then, I can sleep at night

And focus what really matters ‘round this time:
Spending what I’ve left of this life of mine
With friends, family, and other loved ones dear
As per the tradition this time of year.

On that note, Christmas for me just might yet
Be saved, regardless of whether I forget
About how the snow might’ve made matters better,
For really, can I afford at all to be a fretter?

Therefore, snow, fall or not. Take your pick.
My Christmas will be fine, whether or not you’ll stick,
But a sincere thanks for the memories either way
Of when I was young and knew Christmas Day.

*****

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