Poem of the Week: Nap Attacks

Nap Attacks
April 14, 2018

I’m trying to get things done ‘round here,
But sleeping’s always taking me down.
I try to stay awake,
But things just don’t take,
And progresswise, I gain no ground.

Too often do I end up lying down
To catch some Z’s, only to awake
After an hour
Once I reach full power.
Honestly, how much more can I take?

Maybe it’s this project over which I’ve been a flake,
Having worked on it for hours,
Or perhaps it’s the fear
Of that “Best of luck, dear”
That’s been draining me of all my power.

Either way, my dream shan’t bloom like a flower
With this habit I’ve been dealing with here..
It’s time to stand my ground
‘Fore my skills break down
And in the wrong direction I steer.

*****

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

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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: Bullying and Retaliation

Bullying and Retaliation
March 15, 2018

“It’s nothing personal/
It’s just a joke.”
“Just a joke,” they say.
“Just a joke,” nothing!
Nothing about this is funny.
Nothing like this should happen—
Happen to anyone,
Happen for any reason.
Reason escapes me,
Reason to help me understand,
Understand why,
Understand what…
What motivates such actions,
What people get out of it.
It annoys me.
It frustrates me—
Me with my throbbing headache,
Me with my subverted expectations—
Expectations of my peers,
Expectations of my fellow ex-children.
Children they still are, apparently.
Children they might forever be—
Be, even when they attain adulthood.
Be still, clenching fist.
Fist, stay away from that wall!
Fist, stay away from that face!
Face the reality of the situation.
Face the truth.
Truth is, you and I would become guilty as well.
Truth is it ain’t worth it.
It ain’t worth the criminal record.
It ain’t worth the vile reputation—
Reputation as a hothead,
Reputation as a scumbag…
Scumbag like those I’ve been facing,
Scumbag like those who’ve been bothering me—
Me when I never did them any wrong,
Me when I just want to be left alone…
Alone to learn,
Alone to grow.
Grow some spine\, they ought to…
Grow some brains on top of that.
That is all I can hope for.
That is all I can expect—
Expect until the year is done,
Expect until this is all over.
Done…
…Over.

*****

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: Old Fool

Old Fool
February 19, 2018

Quit feeding kids your ego. You know that ain’t cool.
Grow up and do your job right, you pompous old fool.

The poor kids who go to you are seeking advice
For their troubles, not flagrant tongue-lashings, old fool.

Not all troubled kids are raging demons who need
To be punished for their “sins,” you senile old fool.

Where do you get off, then, losing your patience with
Them for even the slightest infraction, old fool?

Do you somehow think you’re above acting grown up
And professionally? Because guess what, old fool:

You’re being PAID to help troubled kids move forward
And become productive adults one day, old fool.

That kind of responsibility isn’t one
That anyone should handle lightly, you old fool,

But yet you do, and quite recklessly at that, too,
Not giving a damn ‘bout how your actions, old fool,

Will affect—nay…IMPACT—your clients for years to
Come during the course of their lives, you dense old fool.

Will your conscience be ready for when the other
Shoe drops and the kids you should’ve counseled, old fool,

End up making life worse for themselves or someone
Else in one nasty way or another, old fool?

Perhaps even to the point where they end up in
Jail or—even worse—six feet underground, old fool?

Have you even conscience to care? I highly doubt
That…but hey…best of luck to you in life, old fool,

For you’ll need it when you at last lose your precious
Throne to one far worthier of the job, old fool,

And from then on live in the shame you’ve forged yourself
From your own ignorance and negligence, old fool…

Not to mention your laziness and cowardice
As well—all the tools of which you’ve used, you old fool,

During the course of a career you deserved not,
Nor does anyone with a mood like yours, old fool…

All warped with stereotypes and precognitions
Of those whom you were meant to serve with care, old fool—

Care, wisdom, and respect—all of which you clearly
Lack, hence this diatribe towards you, you old fool,

And I hope you get a kick to the curb, too, for
All the crap you’ve pulled while you had power, old fool—

Power to help establish a better future
For generations down the road to come, old fool.

Ah, but what’s the use? You’re too old now to learn from
The errors of your ways, stupid, senile old fool,

So I guess there’s little point in me chewing you
Up when you’re gladly chewing your own foot, old fool,

So enjoy whatever misery falls upon
You for all the wrong you’ve done. You’ve earned it…old fool!

*****

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

Poem of the Week: “Millennial” Means Nothing

“Millennial” Means Nothing
February 13, 2018

“Millennial” means nothing. It’s just another word
That’s amongst the dumbest labels I’ve ever read or heard.
It’s meant for folks who’ve been born between ’81 and ’96,
Yet it’s just for anyone of youth who happens to be a twit,
Be he or she loud, vain, self-entitled, foolish, or immature,
And because this word’s been so misused, its meaning’s no longer pure.

The binge-watching Netflix addict who spurns regular TV;
The controversial YouTuber who’s a millionaire, apparently;
The selfie-obsessed Snapchatter who won’t put down his or her cam;
The memory-depraved jump-cutter with the paltry attention span;
The snarky, self-assured “genius” who digs up, then bashes the past;
The nostalgia junkie who slams the present, praying to all it won’t last;
The screaming mimi who flips his lid at the pettiest of things;
The obnoxious brat who causes a scene for the sake of “entertaining”;
The self-absorbed “social justice” preacher who hates the other side;
The political extremist who’s got a temper she just can’t hide;
The shrieking conspiracy theorist; the posturing alpha male troll;
The callous meathead whose love for tasteless humor fuels his foul soul—

All these archetypes and more, in one form or another,
Have given “Generation Y” its reputation, brother,
For right and wrong alike, which society reminds us at each turn,
Always eager to trash them for their flaws, too stubborn to learn
How the generations of yesteryear were at their age back in the day
With behaviors of their own that were childish or selfish in some way.
In fact, some middle-agers and seniors today still carry on
Many disgusting mannerisms, dragging younger folks along
As the whine about the current era and all that they’ve lost
‘Cause they were too careless with their cash and now must pay the cost
Right alongside their children, who must now clean up their mess
And learn from the mistakes they’ve made, for Son and Daughter now know best.

That is, of course, when they’re not groaning about all they’ve been denied
When they were kids, and yet, they’ve got the chance to change, if they’d try,
The current state of things for the better, but alas,
They cave in to doing the same old thing that’s been done in the past,
Albeit oftentimes perverted, with old morals and values flushed
Down the toilet while the real turds linger ‘round and leave us hushed
In the wake of their pungent smell that manages to seep its way
Into the brains of the masses, making us dumber by the day
As we latch on to everything overhyped that lacks quality and taste
And ignore or dismiss all that’s honest and good, thus making us waste
The talent and efforts of those who try to break through the ceiling and thrive
While the people who lazily take shortcuts are those whose work comes alive,
Thus helping to shape and define the mindset of today’s society,
Which is why things have long been in the dumps according to you and me.

What’s worse about the word “millennial” and how it’s used
Is how “millennials” themselves say it ‘til it’s abused
About the younger generation and all the flaws they bare,
Criticizing “Generation Z” left and right without care
For their own apparent ignorance , buying in to what they’re told,
As well as the trash they themselves admittedly pull, which, too, gets old.
Such irony in the twist of this tale behind an age group’s name
In that it’s used by older folks to bring a measure of shame
Upon those whom for the name is meant who use it in turn
In the same way towards a younger demographic. Oh, how things burn!

It makes me wonder why even bother labeling age groups at all
Or why we have them, period, if it becomes a name to call
The demographic after us for what certain members of it pull
And the stereotypes that are thus born. Doesn’t it all make one mull
Over the stupidity of it all and question why one should dare
Follow the same mindless trend like a drone, knowing it’ll lead nowhere?
In fact, why even have age groups at all if we all know it’s a trap
To further divide us against ourselves as based on each group’s bad rap?
Isn’t there enough bigotry with which we’re made to cope—
Racism, sexism, homophobia—from the minds and mouths of dopes?
Must we really add ageism to the already overflowing pile?
‘Cause for me, this childishness has already long grown out of style.

Problem is, this foolishness hasn’t stopped yet, and I doubt it ever will,
Leaving “Generation Z” now to wallow through this idiotic swill—
A tradition that’s lasted years, if not decades, as things stand,
And all ‘cause older age groups can’t cope with the changes that come at hand
When the next generation comes of age and culture moves along
To something the don’t recognize. It’s the same old tired song.
Good riddance, then, to generation bashing, a tired old sport.
Nothing good ever comes of it or other acts of such a sort.
Good riddance, too, to the word “millennial,” which now means squat.
As far as I’m concerned, the creator of such a term can rot.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Wrestling Fans of the 2010s

Wrestling Fans in the 2010s
January 29, 2018

Immature, spoiled rotten, thinking they know everything,
Crapping on whom they don’t like, hoping they feel the sting
Of their spiteful words as they pour out their foul, faux-macho maws,
Slamming all who disagree with them, insulting all without pause,
Thinking they’re somehow entitled to see things play only their way,
Screaming and crying and breaking things when their favorites don’t seize the day,
Threatening others’ lives for receiving attention they don’t deserve
From the upper brass for this reason or that…it’s all absurd!
No longer can we enjoy the art that others already scoff at,
For these arrogant, narcissistic brats are smashing it quite flat,
Doing their part in killing off that which they claim to love,
And it’s time for an intervention to descend from up above
And put these overcompensating know-it-alls in their place
Before professional wrestling they further disgrace.
The bitching and bickering’s gotten old, right down to the “smark” shaming
And the bashing of “vanilla midgets” who’ve long been butts of blaming
For the alleged assassination of an industry once held dear
When bookers and promoters, too, have made the sane fans fear
The dying of an entertainment form that once used to be big
Until the spring of 2001 when its backbone snapped like a twig.
Ever since then, many have tried to bring the scene back to life,
Only to make like Victor Frankenstein and bring on more strife
With their monstrous creations, many of which have died out
In no time at all, thus showing the world what the struggle is all about
When even the people behind the curtain being out of touch
With what once made pro wrestling great for everyone and such.
Sure, times have changed, and not for the better, but that doesn’t mean
We can’t pull things together so that something good can be seen.
Everyone of us needs to shape up and adopt a better mood
If we want pro wrestling to move on and evolve with the times, dude.
Let’s all knock off the trolling, the fanboyism, and all the rest,
For constructive positivity is what this business needs best.
Let’s tell these promoters what we want and show that we care
And support those who show the effort in their quest to go somewhere.
Only then will we receive anything close to what we once knew
And help wrestling breathe life back into itself before it’s all through,
And once that change at last happens, oh what a relief it’ll be
To see pro wrestling thrive again for the likes of you and me
And persist for generations down the line ‘til humanity
No longer exists. Until then, though, things will stay a disgrace
With all the crap we’re pulling now, lest we all grow up and move on,
And I’m sure there are others like me who are sick of this same old song.
Alas, I can only change myself in the wake of this idiocy,
And quite frankly ‘midst such nonsense is nowhere I’d like to be.
Will wrestling fans as a collective whole wisen up? I can only hope.
All I know is that I’ll keep my own head on my straight and not be a dope.

*****

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: Message from a Boycotter

Message from a Boycotter
January 2, 2018

The more things change, the more they stay the same—
So much, in fact, that oftentimes, they drive me insane,
Like dwelling on the past and exploiting it for all its worth
For the selfish sake of filling one’s face and further gaining girth.
It’s already 2018, after all, and still some think
That milking yesteryear’s tragedies doesn’t at all stink,
Even though doing so has proven time and again to fail
To the point where those who’ve failed no longer bother to sail
The ever-so turbulent mainstream for years at a time,
And yet, others dare to dream that they can cross the brine
With the same disastrous vessels that the failures have failed to float,
And if that’s the case with you, then go ahead, you clueless goat!
Go ahead and set sail for ruin, you greedy sack of trash.
Let’s see how you hold together. I bet you’ll outright crash.
What makes you think you’re better than those who’ve preceded you,
Especially since you’ve clearly not learned from what they’ve been through—
The mistakes they’ve made, the toes they’ve trod upon, and so on?
Just like them, I predict, you’ll end up just like them: gone…
Gone from just this one last step of yours in your career,
And for it to end so suddenly is something others would fear,
Even after it has lasted as long as yours has
And being so illustrious, too…and all ‘because you just had
To bring it upon yourself to drill up the crippling past once more.
Oh, if only you had a clue of the ridicule in store
For you and everyone under you working on this project—
Ridicule that you deserve, though, for nine sane respect
Anyone and weak and ignorant or too lazy to think
Of anything new to show the masses that doesn’t stink.
That having been said, go ahead and embarrass yourself,
For when your work months later hits the clearance shelves
Of Wal-Marts nationwide, don’t you dare come crying to me,
Especially if, on the Internet, you chance to hear and see
Multiple negative reviews of your precious pride and joy
And rants on how you should retire once and for all, my boy.
America’s trying to move forward and leave the past in the past.
This constant fixation on it one way or another can’t last.
Remembrance is one thing, but obsession is another,
And people like you need to back off peddling the latter, brother.
Start treating us folks with dignity. Stop treating us like sheep.
Learn to respect us once and for all if you plan to keep
Your place in the entertainment world, for we’ve finally caught on—
Or at last we at last shall–to what you’re doing wrong,
And then where will you be once you’ve sacrificed your throne?
Hopefully out on the streets, forgotten and alone
With nobody to look after you or pad your pan with coin
When we used to feed you dollars by the dozen from a skinned cow’s loin.
At any cost your glory will finally bite the dust,
And fresh faces will take your place upon rising from the rust
That’s been rotting the iron infrastructure of the world,
And good media will once again be available to boys and girls.
It’s your call, Mr. Producer: Paradise or purgatory?
Do you want to retain your prestige or sacrifice your glory
In the name of speaking freely ‘bout what most don’t want to hear?
It’s the future of your reign, sir. Is all I’ve said clear?

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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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