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


Poem of the Week: I Don’t Know When

I Don’t Know When
May 31, 2017

Over and over and over again,
Fed the same old stuff since I don’t know when:

The same folks in the same spots as before…
When they’ll try something new, I don’t know when.

The same damn games they’d played four years ago…
When they’ll play diff’rent games, I don’t know when.

Not trusting the crowd to anticipate
The next scene ever since I don’t know when,

Using celebrities few care to see
Over their own cast since I don’t know when,

Starting and stopping each season midway
For no good reason since I don’t know when—

All these things and more ruining that which I
Used to love back then since I don’t know when

With no sign of change for better in sight,
Leaving things a mess since I don’t know when.

Guess what, though: Why should I sit here, complain,
And demand things change when I don’t know when

I’ll ever be heard and things will in fact
Change for the better when I don’t know when

Those who’ve come before me will have their words
Taken into account? I don’t know when.

Instead, then, I’ll just leave my TV off
Until things improve, though I don’t know when

That will be or even if it ever
Happens. It’s one big guess. I don’t know when,

But if the show finally gets cancelled,
Then oh well…bye-bye…though I don’t know when…

Or if the thing will at long last improve.
All I know’s I’ve left…and I do know when.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: An Admittedly Long-Winded Ghazal about Distractions

An Admittedly Long-Winded Ghazal about Distractions
October 27, 2016

So many distractions today’s world has in store:
Links here, videos there, ads all over, and more.

So hard it is to focus that so much stuff just
Never gets done when it otherwise should and more.

Trying to work on a book when my writer’s block
Kicks in, making me think about elsewhat and more.

I try to fight it, but my brain’s juices won’t flow,
Leaving me to look for inspiration and more,

So I listen to some music to help me clear
My mind of oddball thoughts, foul memories, and more,

And for a while, it works until the clash of themes
Between song and book complicate matters and more,

Leaving me to wonder if maybe a podcast
Might be the background noise I need to think and more.

Sadly, all the constant chatter, even at a
Low volume, only piles on the clutter and more.

Now my mind’s more polluted than it was before,
And I need to walk away completely and more.

Let me thus play some games to help flush the fritzing
So that my mind can finally function and more.

Ah…now this is fun…but wait! What’s going on here?
You mean this game has just cost me two hours and more!?

Well, that’s enough lollygagging, then! Back to work
‘Fore I’m a full year behind in my work and more.

Oh, hey! Here’s that episode of that one show on
TV that I’ve been watching for two years and more.

Alas, another hour flushed down the toilet,
Even though I enjoyed that episode and more.

I still can’t write, though…but yo! What do we have here?
A video ‘bout creativity and more?

If this’ll help stir things up, I’ll give it a shot.
It certainly has gorgeous visuals and more.

Then again, the notions I’m getting are starting
To warp my mind in unconstructive ways and more.

I’d better turn it off, then, ‘fore it completely
Renders me a drooling, babbling moron and more.

Oh, joy! Look at this. I’m more behind in my work.
Quelle surprise…and worse yet, by a good week and more.

Serves me right, I guess, for allowing myself to
Succumb to all these bloody distractions and more.

No wonder I and many others can’t get squat
Done when we need to to set the world straight and more.

Sure, it’d help if they didn’t exist in the first
Place so that we can focus on our work and more,

But ultimately, whom can we blame but ourselves
For allowing them to take us over and more?

Surely we can disconnect from them and keep on
Working until we at least get things done and more

And prove that we can indeed rise above that which
Society feeds us to hold us back and more,

Lest we long to live with the stereotype they’ve
Used to color us for the longest time and more.

I’m sure struggling. I’d be a fool to otherwise
Say, but I’ll do my best to put the lie and more

To the label and at last put out that which I’ve
Long meant to for my own sake, for others’, and more.

Enough caving in, then, to these damn distractions!
It’s time now to get my act together and more.

Otherwise, I’ll never attain that which I’ve sought
For so long and stay stuck in my own past and more—

A past I’d much rather leave behind if I hope
To ever know what my future may hold and more.



Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: False Friends: An Admittedly Longer-than-Necessary Ghazal about Friendship

False Friends: An Admittedly Longer-than-Necessary Ghazal about Friendship
June 25, 2016

True friendship is something for which most people yearn—
Folks there for us, asking for nothing in return

Who’ll gladly see us through the worst of times without
Demanding a thing for their support in return.

Alas, too many selfish schlubs exist out there
Who’ll only help us when there’s something in return

For them to gain, be it some physical reward
That they can exchange for something else in return

Or something intangible with which to patch their
Sundered souls, part of which they’d traded in return

For whatever has made them what they are these days—
Bitter, jaded, and nasty to folks in return

For some foul misfortune that fell upon them once,
Leaving them furious at the world in return

Or simply because they’re naturally born bastards
Who blatantly treat others like crap in return

For no retribution at all, for others fear,
Justly or not, what might fall on them in return

And manage to get away with all that they pull
Until they die, then into the ground they return.

Honestly, what kind of friends would these monsters make?
What exactly would they have to give in return

To one who would dare see them through the worst of times
Without ever asking for a thing in return?

Take, take, take—that’s all fools like these know how to do
While giving nothing but pain and grief in return.

Such is what I’ve learned over many years on Earth,
Giving my all to, yet getting naught in return

From folks who proved to be nothing but parasites,
Leaching off my love and effort while in return

Causing me only anguish and suffering with
What they’d say and do to me daily in return,

Especially when I couldn’t meet their demands
For what I was expected to give in return.

From those days, I’ve vowed to exercise more caution
When dealing with folks who might one day in return

For my barefaced respect and compassion give me
Only dismissal and misery in return.

No longer would I waste my time with false friends for
Any reason. Note, too, that I’ve yet to return

To that point in my life, for as far as things go,
Those days are gone, and I hope to never return

To being the senseless sap I was long ago,
Always giving but never getting in return.

From now on, I’m only holding out for folks who
Believe in reciprocity and will return

That which I give them, for though it may seem petty
To give and hopefully get something in return,

Me knowing that what I’m giving means anything,
No matter how minor, means something in return,

And that in and of itself is the greatest gift
I could hope to get from anyone in return.

To Hell with false friends, then! Quite frankly, I’m better
Off without them, and I’m sure to never return

To seeking their half-hearted approval, so good
Riddance, and off to a brighter day I return.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Bonus Poem of the Week: Will Things End?

Will Things End?
April 5, 2016

Folks keep telling me that change is around the bend,
That the crap we’ve endured for so long soon will end.

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, though, friend,
Before I can proudly proclaim that things will end.

After all, we’ve all endured so much for so long
That we’ve grown used to what we’ve all long hoped will end

And have grown numb to all the stupidity we’ve
Seen and heard along the way wishing it will end,

Yet convinced it never will in our jaded state
Of mind, hence my own disbelief that it will end.

Show me evidence, then, that things are moving forth
And that the nonsense we’ve put up with soon will end,

For I see and hear nothing going forth from here—
Only more groundless promises that things will end

And all-too-strong proof making a case otherwise
Making me question if it all indeed will end.

Pointing out all our wishful thinking all too much
And bringing doubt to the notion that trash will end?

Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m sick of how negative
I’ve become and would love to see how things will end

Down the line, but unless we take drastic measures
‘Gainst all the world’s wrongs and ensure that they will end,

This new “golden age” I’ve heard promises of for
So long will remain but a dream ‘til trash will end.

The question remains, too, as to what we’ll all do
To ensure that all we’ve dealt with for years will end.

I know what I’ll do, but I also know that I
Can’t do it alone in making sure crap will end.

We all need to make an effort to make the world
A better place and ensure that nonsense will end.

‘Twill be a long and dangerous road ahead, though,
In our joint quest to make for sure that trash will end,

But I’ve no doubt we can do it if we just try,
So who’s with me in making sure that things will end?


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Up to You

Up to You
November 6, 2015

Letting go of the past can be tricky to do,
But if you want to move forward, it’s up to you.

No one can live in the past forever, it’s true,
But if you want to try, then hey—that’s up to you.

I’d rather live for tomorrow than yesterday,
But if that’s not your style, then that is up to you.

I’ve too much of a future to waste on “back then,”
But if that’s what you want, then friend, that’s up to you.

I’ll leave my pain in yesteryear, where it belongs,
But if you wish to suffer yours, that’s up to you:

The teasing, the torture, the brazen foolishness—
If that’s what you want, then again, it’s up to you.

The suffering, the drama, and all that comes with them—
Is that what you really want? Well, it’s up to you.

Clinging to what could have been rather than what is
When things can’t be helped anymore? That’s up to you.

Reliving nightmares that were grim reality
Back when you were younger? That, too, is up to you.

Hugging nostalgia desp’rately in the vain hope
That what you once knew will return? That’s up to you.

Reliving tragedy with which you’ve had to cope
That took a lifetime to do so? Hey, up to you.

Wishing the present was naught but a bad dream while
Living in your own reality? Up to you.

Me, on the other hand, I’ll be moving forward.
Should you care to join me, that, too, is up to you.

I hope you do, though, so we can both leave the past
In the past where it belongs, but hey—up to you.

It’s just that dwelling on the pain of old isn’t
My scene these days. If it’s yours, though, that’s up to you.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all starts
Haunting you all over again (‘Twas up to you.)

And leaves you forever scarred emotionally.
I’m giving you this one chance, and it’s up to you.

So, what will it be—embracing what just might be
Or hanging on to what once was? It’s up to you.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Poem of the Week: What Wills, Thrills, Chills, Fills, and Kills the Cat

What Wills, Thrills, Chills, Fills, and Kills the Cat
July 21, 2015

Why do people think filth is where it’s at?
Simple: Curiosity wills the cat.

We know it’s bad for us, but we don’t care.
Our morbid need to know still wills the cat,

Pushing us ever forward to find out
Precisely what it is that thrills the cat.

The media know this all too well, too,
And do all that they can to thrill the cat

With juicy gossip galore left and right
‘Bout the latest smut out to chill the cat—

Racy, raunchy, tacky trash through and through,
And all just enough so to thrill the cat

Without the burden of healthy substance
That would dare cramp what style may chill the cat.

Rarely, if ever, does clean, wholesome stuff
Get any sort of chance to thrill the cat,

No matter how lovingly made it is
With quality enough to thrill the cat—

A solid plot, likeable characters,
And a message that hopes to fill the cat

With wisdom and wit to last a lifetime.
Such is what used to, for us, thrill the cat.

Just as times have changed, though, so have our tastes.
No longer do good stories thrill the cat,

And we’ve but ourselves to blame for it all
With our need nowadays to chill the cat

With that which we know is naught but rubbish
Rather than what we know will fill the cat

With warmth of heart and soul and sense of smarts,
Funding instead those who now fill the cat

With thoughts of violence and perversion and
Language hateful enough to kill the cat,

Defiling what’s left of our innocence.
Meanwhile, all those who’ve tried to fill the cat

Have been ignored and tossed aside like trash,
Their words never to fill or thrill the cat.
That’s how it’s been one year after the next
For far too long now, and it kills the cat

Knowing things haven’t been the same since the
Days when curiosity filled the cat

With hope, laughter, amazement, and wonder.
Will such a time return to thrill the cat?

Honestly, only if we stop letting
Our foul curiosity kill the cat

And learn to see for ourselves good from bad
Before curiosity kills the cat

And support that which has been made with care,
Not stuff made blatantly to chill the cat.

Only then will things evolve, so let’s not
Let our curiosity kill the cat.

More learning, thinking, knowing: That’s the stuff
That will once again someday thrill the cat.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Poem of the Week: Fake = Ugly. What D’You Say?

Fake = Ugly. What D’You Say?
May 4, 2015

Real women are beautiful all in their own way.
Their beauty’s genuine, no matter what you say.

All you fake women out there, though, make my skin crawl
With how you hide your true nature with what you say,

Do, and wear in given situations for this
Or that excuse. You make me sick, and what you say

To defend your style, words, or mannerisms is
Naught but hot air to me, no matter what you say.

I’ve been ‘round long enough to know fakeness when I
See it, which you can’t hide, no matter what you say,

And I know when one’s putting on an act of sorts
Which some folks just can’t hide, and whatever you say

Will never be enough to hide the truth from folks
Who’ve learned to see through crap, no matter what you say,

So lose the tacky duds, dyed hair, excess makeup,
And all your bogus mannerisms—what you say

And do to fail to fool the public, and simply
Accept yourselves for who you are, for what you say,

Do, and wear to mask your true natures only holds
You back from accepting your true self. What d’you say,

Then? Care to shed your superficiality
In the name of authentic beauty? What d’you say?

Care to be genuine and openly loved, or
Forever be an ugly phony? What d’you say?


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Bonus Poem of the Week: Behind: A Love Ghazal

Behind: A Love Ghazal
April 6, 2015

Constantly lost in thought, trying to clear my mind,
Hoping to leave my insecurities behind,

Searching for the words to let you know how I feel,
Wishing I could toss these difficulties behind

In terms of sharing with you this warmth in my heart,
Chucking any and all impurities behind,

Letting you know my love for you is genuine,
Encouraging you to cast your worries behind

About me straying from your side for another,
Leaving you as well as all our babies behind.

Forever do I intend to take care of you
From now ‘til death, where I’ll leave much moneys behind,

Tending to all your needs ev’ry which way I can,
Casting all childish insecurities behind,

Being the best man you could ever ask for, dear—
The kind of man to help you toss your worries behind

As we head into tomorrow and forever
Together, leaving all impurities behind

That contaminate this world, cruel as it can be,
Watching our troubles perish like squished fleas behind.

You’re my life, my beloved. Never forget that.
Now please let’s both leave these insanities behind.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Poem of the Week: Taking Back the Entertainment Industry

Hello, readers!

This week’s “Poem of the Week” is my first attempt at a ghazal. Feel free to leave me feedback on it, especially if you’re familiar with ghazal poetry yourself and have any constructive criticism concerning how this one stacks up with other poems of its type. In the meantime, enjoy!


Taking Back the Entertainment Industry
February 17, 2015

The gates of Hell have opened wide for you, my friend.
There’s nothing to escape that you can do, my friend.

You’ve lined the pockets of the Devil with your cash
To support a thing most foul, which you knew, my friend.

Now Karma’s come to collect from us all, no thanks
To the patronage ol’ Scratch has from you, my friend.

Soulless, tasteless, pandering—is that what you want?
If so, all I can say is toodle-oo, my friend.

I’m fed up with this status quo. I demand change!
I won’t buy in or sell out. I’m not you, my friend.

It’s time we all took a stand against perversion
And let the makers know how much we’re through, my friend.

We’re not dumb, you know. We know trash when we see it.
The mindless masses we don’t belong to, my friend.

Should Judgment Day come, we’ll be one black mark cleaner
Than any liar or thief backed by you, my friend.

We won’t be so simply underestimated.
We’ll win back the industry. We’ll show you, my friend.

After all, yours truly isn’t one to give up,
And in the end, all this crap will be through, my friend.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com