Poem of the Week: A Somewhat Poetic Rant about 21st Century Brats who Find Humor in Others’ Pain and Suffering

A Somewhat Poetic Rant about 21st Century Brats who Find Humor in Others’ Pain and Suffering
April 3, 2017

For too long I’ve been angry. For too long I’ve learned to hate
The people in this messed-up world as they further degenerate
Into immature, spiteful narcissists all wrapped up in themselves,
Mocking others’ misfortune while wallowing in their self-made hell,
Peeved over often petty things, unable to adjust
To a world that’s always changing, whether for benefit or bust,
Concerned with material crap, not giving a single damn
About any altruistic virtue, and outraged I still am,
For I’ve been taught since I was born to show consideration
Towards those other than myself, no matter the situation.
Sadly, many have proven themselves inconsiderate
Of those less fortunate than they are, which throws me into a fit
And makes me want to lock these fools all together in a cell
A thousand leagues beneath Earth’s crust, hoping they suffer hell
Away from all their precious toys and other material gains,
Having none but each other with whom to cope as they drive each other insane
With the same childish, disrespectful behavior for which they’re known,
And should they turn on each other and cut each other to the bone,
Leaving a mass of corpses soaking in their own blood and waste,
I’d show no surprise when even their families show no haste
In mourning their losses, for honestly, why the hell should they?
These heartless, selfish bastards and bitches should all be made to pay
For ridiculing the beleaguered and the situation
That put them in their place without thought or consideration.
After all, would it have killed these twits to have opened their eyes
And put themselves in the others’ shoes and come to realize
The pain with which they’ve had to cope from Day One up to now?
It seems so, judging from their careless words, though I don’t know how
These brats find humor in others’ pain on account of tragedy.
Alas, such is the case of certain kids these days, apparently,
Only caring ‘bout the here and now, no matter the weather,
Not giving a rat’s ass ‘bout trying to change anything for the better—
Not even for themselves, which I find to be irony.
Well, fine, then! So be it. Redefine the term “tragedy”
So that when you take the world over from us, it’ll just all the more
Suffer from whatever stupidity you have in store
For it and whatever denizens it may still have by then
Who’ll only be wishing all the more to traverse to Way Back When,
When life was simpler and stupid brats weren’t so blatantly PI
Smearing their heartless “humor” all over to reach all ears and eyes.
Keep dreaming, though, all you little creeps, for your day to come,
For we grownups still have a chance to save Earth from becoming dumb
As in dumber than it already is, no thanks to twerps like you,
And we’ll work hard to put it back together and see it through.
Who knows? Maybe a new golden will happen to rise
In which morals as corrupt and ass-backwards as yours are cut down to size
And the just can live in peace and harmony ‘til the sun burns out.
Until then, enjoy your says in the sunshine, you infantile little clouts,
For rudeness and disrespect can only take you so far in life
‘Til they finally catch up with you, and soon the pain and strife
Of growing up will at last sink in one way or another
And you’re forced to adapt or perish in the name of your divine mother.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com


Poem of the Week: The Criticism Poem

The Criticism Poem
August 3, 2016

People ain’t always friendly. People ain’t always nice,
But that’s still no excuse to let your sensitivity become a vice,
‘Cause no matter how critical folks might be of the stuff you make,
You can’t always fire back at them, especially with words half-baked.

Let’s say some senile, whiny manchild yearly rants on and on
About how you “don’t do anything new” on a certain show you’re on
And instead “keep doing the same old crap” without proving his point
And keeps using the same old tired-ass words to stink up the joint.
Would you cave in and let his groundless hypocrisy get to you,
Or would you rise above it and let others’ love for you see you through?
Would you rather listen to constructive critiques of what you’re doing wrong
Or let some bitter dunce keep ragging on you with the same old song?

Even if the masses hate your stuff, you can’t flip your feces, friend,
And trash them or their opinion, lest you wish to see a bitter end
And be recalled as a jackass for biting the hand that could have fed you
And stepping on those who’ve supported you in what good you used to do.
People are allowed to have legitimate criticisms, after all,
And point out flaws in your work that are there so that you won’t take a fall
With your next project, so what’s the point in screaming up a storm
As though they’re clueless idiots whose bodies are still moist and warm
From recently slithering out of their mothers’ bellies? Tell me, friend,
How else you believe a person’s career can be brought to an end.

Also…all you’ve heard about trolls? Guess what: It’s all true.
The cowardly pranksters exist and are out to get folks like you
Whose paper-thin skin is too weak to endure their razor-sharp tongues
And the toxic trash they spew out from their foul mouths and filthy lungs,
And for you to take them seriously will surely cause your demise,
So mind the sincere, and when it comes to trolls, screw those guys!
Honest, sincere critique is what should matter to folks these days,
Even if it’s not what you “want” to hear in any sort of way.
Otherwise, how well will you improve at the craft that earns you cash?
That in mind, keep your ears and eyes open, and please don’t be an ass
By giving any flack back to anyone for any reason,
‘Cause trust me, bub, no matter the case, backtalk is never in season.

Now, wise up, smarten up, screw your heels in, and bite your bottom lip,
‘Cause you’re bound to be judged no matter what, be it gently or straight from the hip,
And keep the words that make the most sense separate from the verbal farts,
And I’m sure you’ll find it much easier to grow as a student of your art.
It’s like I’ve said, after all: Folks aren’t always kind, so grow a spine
And hope for the best while expecting the worst, fellow artist of mine.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: The Dangers of Putting Grown Children in Charge of Young People

The Dangers of Putting Grown Children in Charge of Young People
March 1, 2016

You wouldn’t want a judge fixing your broken pipes
Or a butcher to settle your small claims gripe
Or even a plumber trimming your tripe
‘Cause face it: You want the best.

That’s like expecting wild critters to coexist with dogs
Or a pyro to carve you a puppet from a log
Or a caterpillar to grow up into a frog.
Such logic never passes the test.

Why, then, would a school district hire an ass—
A child in a grown-up suit—to teach a class
Full of kids with little to no grace or class?
Such logic makes no sense to me.

Not giving a damn to show any heart,
Humiliating students ‘fore their peers at the start,
Not caring ‘bout their feelings as they tear ‘em ‘part,
Being barbaric as can be.

They especially lack any patience for those
Who don’t think or act like other Janes and Joes,
Preferring instead to bring them much woe
For simply being different. How sad!

They clearly can’t bother themselves to get to know
These kids for whom they are or what they know
But instead treat them like they’re the dumbest schmoes
In the world and make them feel bad,

And from there, the biased “special” treatment grows
All ‘cause these teachers have no spine to show—
Or brains, for that matter, to learn and know
Any responsibility.

Instead, they’d much sooner dodge and run
What they’re paid to do just ‘cause it’s no fun
Or isn’t part of the lessons they’re told to run,
And such continues youth’s tragedy.

Why can’t folks just grow up and do their jobs
And stop standing ‘round frothing at the gobs?
Just screw your heels in and get things done, you slobs!
Stop whining like spoiled rotten brats

And take responsibility for tomorrow
Instead of feeding these poor kids’ sorrow.
Be humane! Stop being so shallow and hollow,
For humaneness is where it’s at.

That way, tomorrow’s grown-ups more likely will grow strong
In body and mind and move things along
And hopefully right their elders’ wrongs,
Which said elders have made time and again,

For older generations’ wrongs have been a lot—
Not that today’s adults haven’t been foolish sots,
But now’s not the time to debate who should rot,
For that was all way back when,

And if we’re to move forward, the blaming must stop,
For our own negativity’s all we’ve got
To run on these days, which is why we now rot
In the swill of our own demise.

Our road to redemption now starts with the young,
Who, sadly, must inherit all that we’ve done
To the world as we know it under the sun,
So come on, teachers! Open your eyes

And open your hearts to the way things must be,
For we’re already in trouble, as you can see,
And only through stern compassion can we
Bring about better days.

Not every young person thinks alike, after all,
And our thinking otherwise has made us fall.
Wise up, then, and prepare to stand tall
And help show every youth the way.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Bonus Poem of the Week: Memo for Mr. Riley

Hello, readers!

Just thought I’d come back up here to share with you my latest poem: a limerick chain “dedicated” to all those people out there who basically have no business being in any position of power—no matter on how grand (i.e. a national leader) or small (i.e., a moderator on some small Internet forum) a scale—on account of their sheer arrogance, ignorance, and consequent, utter refusal to change for the better. My apologies in advance, too, for anyone named Riley who doesn’t fit this mold, for I’d more or less chosen the name for this particular caricature at random. Any resemblances to any person living or dead is thus coincidental. Without further ado, then, here’s Memo for Mr. Riley. Please enjoy!


Memo for Mr. Riley
November 5, 2013

You really need to grow up, dude.
You’re just so obnoxious and rude,
And you’ve no biz
Saying what “annoying” is
When you’re the worst of such a brood.

You’re such a mess up in the attic.
You’re mind’s so monochromatic.
You see in all in black and white—
“You’re wrong, I’m right”—
And thinking otherwise makes static

Up inside your underused brain,
And what makes you even more insane
Is when you force your will
On ev’ry Jack and Jill
To accept your doctrine plain,

And forget diplomacy!
Tactful’s not what you tend to be.
Like a cudgel, you’re blunt,
And I wonder if you grunt
Like a caveman ‘mongst your family.

Manners mean nothing to you,
No matter what you say or do.
Forget calling you rude;
You’re downright crude,
You obnoxious, belligerent shrew.

“Two side to ev’rything”—
Such is what you like to sing.
Then again, hypocrite,
You don’t practice it,
Lest it’s the “I’m right, you’re wrong” thing,

And when you’re right and one comes
To apologize to you, you scum,
You scoff and say “Whatever”
To their honest endeavor,
Further whipping the already flogged bum

Of the person who’s crying to come clean.
Honestly, must you live to be mean,
Getting off on others’ shame,
Suffering, and pain?
What’s your motive for being so obscene?

Worse yet, you’re not above being catty
And scratching underbellies so fatty
And underbellies slim
When you know you can’t win
A clean debate. That’s just ratty!

You care about naught but control
Over others, you heartless little troll,
And it sickens me much,
Your behavior and such,
And you heart hard and black like coal.

However, your nastiest trait
Shows when folks step up to debate
All your flaws I’ve discussed,
And in rage and disgust,
You counter their points with hate.

You attack all their points in haste,
Loud and forceful, trying to lay waste
To that which you see
As stupidity,
Yet your efforts are naught but a waste,

For you end up playing the fool
When you try desperately to school
Those with whom you disagree.
It’s quite laughable to me
‘Til my skin gets all bristly and cool

When I realize just how few
Folks have it to stand up to you
And call your hide out
For what you’re all about.
Then I get so sick through and through.

So sad that so few have the spine
To stand up to the conceited swine
That you truly are,
And yet, look how far
Up you’ve been on the ladder all this time.

You clearly have friends in high places
Who gladly tolerate your disgraces,
Else you’d be out on your rump
And down in the dumps,
And you’d have one big welt where your face is.

The fact that you’ve friends at all
Quite frankly leaves me appalled.
Please tell me how that works
With you being such a jerk
And not hiding your true nature at all.

It’s no secret you’re so immature
And that your manners aren’t demure,
Yet you get away clean
With being so mean—
Just more proof how this world’s so impure.

Well, guess what, then, you boorish creep:
Stay up there on your mountain steep
With your own fecal mass.
You’re a pain in the ass,
And I hope one day it sinks deep

Into your brain just how vile,
Repulsive, and juvenile
You’ve been all this time
And that all your crimes
Haunt you for a long, long while.

Maybe then, you’ll finally grow up
And move on with your life, you sick pup,
And stop shoving your will
Onto others like a pill,
‘Cause really, enough is enough.

After all, on this side of the fence,
There’s no room for the intolerance
You’ve repeatedly shown,
Cutting others to the bone
With your temper and ignorance,

And if you won’t grow up, dude,
Good riddance, for you’re just too rude
And self-centered a brat,
And that is that.
None need to cope with such an attitude.


Well, that’s it for today. Thank you all for stopping by, and please don’t hesitate to come on back this coming Sunday for my usual “Poem of the Week.” In the meantime, feel free to share this work with your friends and loved ones, especially if they happen to fit the mold of one “Mr. Riley,” as I’ve so chosen to call him, or are at least dealing with someone of this nature. Also feel free to stop on by my author pages at Smashwords.com, Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk, should you be in the mood to do some holiday shopping. Otherwise, take care, and happy reading!


Dustin M. Weber

Bonus Poem of the Week: Grow Up and Shut Up!

Greetings, readers!

I know that I promised you all this past Sunday that the next poem I would post on this blog would be either more positive than the past couple of poems I’d published or would cover a topic that I hadn’t covered in a long while, if ever. However, before I can publish such a composition, I simply feel that today’s piece is in order. To put it simply, it’s a little something that I’m sure the majority of us—if not, in fact, all of us—have wanted to say to someone at one point or another in our lives, regardless of whether or not we know said person. Whiny friends and relatives who still haven’t accepted adult responsibilities, self-righteous political radicals of all kinds who want to point fingers at “the enemy” for the way things are in the country (and, in fact, the world), random schmucks on the Internet who complain to the world about certain “issues” in their lives that pale in comparison to the hardships of others, people in general who won’t let go of a painful past when they sincerely can—these are just a few of the kinds of people I’m sure we’ve all wanted to grab by the collar at one point or another, smack across the face, and tell them to Grow Up and Shut Up. Such is the name of the following villanelle, which I’ll be using as a kind of blow-off/setup poem before my final “Poem of the Week” for the September of 2013. In the meantime, please enjoy the composition below!


Grow Up and Shut Up!
September 26, 2013

Grow up and shut up! I’m done hearing it.
You keep drilling the same old holes in the ground
Over and over again—same old bit!

Each time you talk, I want to throw a fit
With the crap that comes from your mouth so round.
Grow up and shut up! I’m done hearing it.

You never change your tune—not one small bit.
I’m shocked anyone near you sticks around.
Over and over again—same old bit!

Most ev’ryone knows you’re so full of it,
So they run away ‘til they’re safe and sound.
Grow up and shut up! I’m done hearing it.

Can’t you let things go for just one small bit
‘Fore you tick folks off ‘til your head they pound?
Over and over again—same old bit!

Good riddance, then! I’ve had enough of it.
I no longer want to see you around.
Grow up and shut up! I’m done hearing it.
Over and over again—same old bit!


Well, that should do it for today. Thank you all for stopping by my humble little blog once more, and I hope that today’s poem helped to serve as a sort of empathetic pressure valve for all the pent-up frustration you yourselves may be feeling towards certain other people you may have had to hear from or about in recent memory. I promise you all once more, however, that this coming Sunday will see to the emergence of a work that will serve a more noticeably positive purpose. Until then, however, thanks, everyone, for stopping by, and hey—for those of you looking to start you holiday shopping early, feel free to visit my author pages at Smashwords.com, Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk to check out my current publications. Otherwise, as always, happy reading!

Dustin M. Weber

Bonus Poem of the Week: A Matter of Self-Reliance

Greeting, readers!

There are times in life where we all need some sort of consolation following something that has hit us hard, be it a rejection or termination from a job we’ve either always wanted or have busted our backsides to do well, a break-up with someone with whom we’ve had a long-lasting relationship that has suddenly gone sour, or even just a bad day at school or work. However, there are times when we either a) can see right through the person trying to console us and see his or her concern for how half-hearted or downright disingenuous said concern actually is or b) are too blinded by our agitation to accept said compassion when it truly is sincere. This poem is dedicated to those of you out there who have gone through such moments in your lives and is in a format that I have had yet to try up until now, which is called Roundabout poetry. It’s a fairly recent style that you can read about here on Robert Lee Brewer’s blog at WritersDigest.com, should you be interested. Otherwise, here’s A Matter of Self-Reliance. I hope you enjoy it!


A Matter of Self-Reliance
September 20, 2013

I don’t want your sympathy.
I don’t want your crap.
I’m a grown man,
And I can
Move on without you in my lap.

I don’t hear anyone playing me taps,
So why don’t you think I can
Carry on with my life,
You piece of tripe?
Quit babying me, man!

I know I’ll find my promised land
If it takes me day and night,
And though I’ve yet to see
Any break for me,
I’ll never give up the fight,

And if I need help with my plight,
You’d be the last person I’d see,
So cut the crap
And get off my lap,
Lying hypocrite. Let me be!


That should do it for today. Thank you all for coming by my to read my work, and for future reference, if any of you ever feel that you just need that little bit of space to cope with whatever problems you may be having in life and would rather deal with things yourself rather than have others crowd you in an effort to help you, no matter how genuine such an effort may be, never feel afraid to say so. Granted, I know the message that this poem is sending is a bit on the harsh side of things, but if there’s a way for you to convey this same message to such people in a gentler fashion, it is your right to do so. Just remember that there’s no shame in asking for help when you need it, but on the same token, sometimes we all need to handle things ourselves. It’s all in knowing when, how, and why that little bit of extra help is needed.

Anyway, thanks again for stopping by, and until next time, happy reading!

Dustin M. Weber