Poem of the Week: No Love for the Arrogant

No Love for the Arrogant
May 19, 2017

I’ve no love for the arrogant, their heads swollen with pride,
Always looking down on others whose efforts they chide,
Always quick with insults, never seeking fault at all
Within their own deeds and behavior, for their own minds are too small
To let them see their own imperfections they, too, harbor deep
Inside the shrunken black rocks they call hearts, which sleep
Inside their chests and only beat for their hosts and them alone,
Never realizing that, like everyone else, they’re flesh and bone
And are capable of making mistakes—often knowingly—
But flippantly dismissing just how careless they can be
As they carry on hurting others’ feelings without remorse
Claiming to be superior and getting up on a high horse
To show the “peasants” how they’re “screwing up” what they do,
Talking to them like children as they explain things through and through
‘Cause the other people are as dumb as chicks freshly hatched in the nest
And need to be treated as such ‘cause the former know best.
Such is how the arrogant think, leastways, not realizing
That their own minds are every bit as in need of supersizing—
If not, in fact, even more so in order for them to see
That they’re really no better than anyone from you to me,
For it’s not ust their way or the highway that makes the world turn.
“Different strokes for different folks” is a saying these clowns should learn,
As one way of living, working, and playing doesn’t fit everyone,
And forcing their way of thinking and doing on all walking ‘neath the sun
Isn’t the way to make friends or even simply get along,
Especially in an era where cooperation must be strong
Between one another if we hope to move society forth,
And we’ve already been suffering from bickering of all sorts.
Besides, is the “one way” with which we’re familiar really working
In this world overrun with “shots fired,” “Fifty Shades,” and “twerking,”
Or do we need to get back something we’ve lost long ago—
Something that made us great once and that we’ve been missing so?
Maybe it’s time we stepped back and analyzed the situation
That’s been spreading like a plague between us all from nation to nation
And stop having such egos when it comes to each little thing.
Otherwise, we’ll be stuck in the cycle and keep feeling the sting
Of a million barbs and the million scars they’ve given us over the years,
And I’m sorry, but that crap’s gotta stop, and it’s gotta stop now and here,
So grow up and get over yourselves, egomaniacs!
Your behavior’s doing nobody a favor, and it’s time it got axed.
This world’s long needed to move forth. This world’s long needed to heal,
So put away your arrogance and learn for once to feel
For your fellow man and woman and lend him and her a hand
If we’re ever going to change things in this befouled, corrupted land.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com


Poem of the Week: The Road to Grownup Town

The Road to Grownup Town
January 30, 2017

Growing up ain’t always grand.
After all, no one will hold your hand
And walk you through
What it is you must do
To make your way through this land.

Everyone has his or her own
Path down which he or she alone
Traverses along
To the tune of a song
That hopefully leads him or her home.

Even when you’ve found your space,
You can’t help but look back and face
The place you used to be
And for yourself see
Just how much of a shameless disgrace

The scene you once knew long ago
Has transformed for the worst, you know,
Filled with assholes galore
Who ruin what’s in store
By bringing everyone else woe

By the bushel, which adds up quickly
And makes things ever so prickly
That it’s no longer the
Place at all to be,
Lest you want to end up just as sickly

In the head as the pains in the ass
Who, with their sheer lack of class,
End up making a chore
Of all that’s in store
For those who must cope with their sass.

Even when these schmucks aren’t a thing,
Looking back leaves such a sting,
Seeing how things change
And rearrange,
Making one ask, “Is this still my thing?”

Never mind all the new gals and guys.
What of the things you don’t recognize—
All the sights and sounds
That weren’t at all around
The last time you were made wise?

Worse yet, what happened to all that
Which was around when you were, jack—
All the legends and lore
That there was in store
When you were naught but a wee brat?

To put it simply, they’re gone,
Having long ago said so long
To ex-kids like you
Who once saw them through
To the end. Is that so wrong?

‘Cause if not, what about all the stuff
That has stuck around for the young pups,
Some of which is each bit
As when you were fit
To enjoy it even in times tough

While the rest of it’s gone to crap
And is so lame that you can’t laugh,
No matter how much
You want to and such?
What have you to say about that?

That it ain’t the same either way
Like it was back in the day?
Well, perhaps, then,
That’s a sign, dear friend,
Telling you to embrace a new day—

A day in which you’re the grownup
And must walk away from the kid stuff,
No mater how much
You don’t want to do such
A thing, no matter how tough

Doing so might be in the end.
That’s just the way things are, friend.
We must al leave our toys
For the next girls and boys
And prepare for what’s ‘round the bend.

After all, whoever knows?
Forever shan’t last your woes,
For surely there’s gold
‘Round a bend untold
Waiting for you, should you want it so.

Trust me, you’ll not know unless
You make it your effort best
To carry on down
The road to Grownup Town
And put your childhood to rest.

After all, no one’s a child forever,
And wallowing in pity will never
Allow you to move on,
So stand up and be strong
And prepare yourself for whatever

And always keep in mind, friend,
Even with your childhood at its end,
You still have memories
To help put you at ease
When your wits are coming to and end,

Not to mention the opportunity
To make more as you try to see
Your fortune unfold
And bring forth ventures bold
Via which to forge your destiny.

There’s only one way to see
What your life can come to be,
And that’s to get up
From the couch, ex-pup,
And accept your destiny.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Growing Up, Giving Up

Growing Up, Giving Up
June 29, 2015

Growing up means giving up, for there’s work to be done.
From childhood to adulthood, each year means less time for fun,
So enjoy your cartoons while you can with your books and video games,
For when you reach my age, children, your world won’t be the same.

No more time for daydreaming, save for sadly looking back
While slaving away to earn the cash to keep the clothes on your back,
Not to mention food on your table and your humble, sturdy shack
And coverage you need for when you endure that ulcer or heart attack.

Meanwhile, the time you once had for what you once enjoyed
Will be severed severely, thanks to daily chores, girls and boys—
Lest you long to live in swill, which really, I don’t see why
Anyone would want to, for if I had to, I’d die.

Anyway, the time you had for hobbies won’t be as great,
Which means having to give some up, leaving you to debate
Which ones you want to take with you and which to give the boot,
And by the time you’ve made up your mind, you can’t help but say, “Shoot!

I’m down to one or two interests. Now what shall I do—
Especially if I suddenly gain a new one out of the blue?”
Then the cycle starts over again, much to your chagrin,
Putting you in the same position you had just been in.

Who knows, though? Maybe by the, you’ll have things straightened out,
And you’ll know exactly just what you adult free time’s all about,
And you’ll have a pastime or two to carry on with and enjoy,
But should you come to pine for what you’ve lost…oh, boy!

Well, let’s just say I’ve warned you, for there’s no turning back.
Then again, you might find your love again down the track.
That’s no guarantee, of course, so keep your fingers crossed
In your efforts to show Father Time who’s really the boss.

Good luck to you, for you might need it. That’s all I can say,
Save for but this one last thing as you carry on living each day:
Life is indeed worth living—just challenging at times,
But you can make the most of it, should you keep sharp your mind.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Poem of the Week: Time to Grow Up

Time to Grow Up
March 16, 2015

The good old days were great. That I’ll never deny,
But let’s face it: Those days have long gone by.
I’m not a kid anymore—far from it, actually,
And that’s a matter I must address factually,
For denying who you are is cheating yourself of truth,
And sad as it is to realize, we all move on from our youth—
Forever remembered and cherished, never to be relived,
Lest you count what second chance your Higher Power may give.
For all I know, though, I’ve but this one life to live,
And I’ve thus learned about the effort one must give
In order to make the most of the life one’s been given
And have asked myself if I’ve ever really been driven
Towards my ultimate goal of self-fulfillment
Or if the better years of mine I have spent
Lollygagging around and avoiding destiny
Trying out this and that, but never really being me—
Not who I’m supposed to be, leastways—by now,
Cheating myself out of my own inner peace, and how.
Ever since day one, I should’ve stuck to one path,
Never deviating from it, never looking back,
And ultimately accepted where said path would’ve led me.
Only then, I’m convinced, would I’ve been all I could be.
Sadly, that’s not the case, for for the longest while,
I’ve been wandering through life an aimless child,
Never knowing where I’m going, only where I’ve been,
Often running in circles time and time again,
Never building myself to be one thing or another.
Henceforth, here I am, sailing in the doldrums, brother,
Once letting the wind guide me, which has since stayed where it’s at
To the north and south of me, where competing winds still spat.
This has got to stop. This must come to an end.
I need to reach my destiny sooner or later, friend.
Any more mindless wandering, and I’m bound to throw up.
Enough beating around the bush. It’s time for me to grow up.
It’s time for me to pick a final path and stay on it,
Come face to face with my fate and accept it, doggone it!
I’ve wandered to and fro enough, and look where it’s led me:
A spot I’ve been in for years—a spot I’d rather not be.
Time to buckle down, then, and put on my big boy briefs,
Take a deep breath, face the future, stand on my own two feet.
My childhood’ll never return; ‘tis naught a memory.
Adulthood, however, lasts ‘til death, a anyone can see.
Time to grow up, then, I say, and embrace what lies ahead.
Self-fulfillment’s my goal now, and I shan’t rest ‘til I’m dead.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com



Bonus Poem of the Week: The Dark Side of the Human Story

Hello, readers.

Recently, I’ve been “inspired” by a certain website dedicated to something that I otherwise enjoy to vent by means of poetry about just how crude, classless, childish, and outright idiotic we humans can be towards each other and precisely just how oblivious we can all be of our own behavior and its effect on others—assuming, of course, that certain people amongst us even care at all about their behavior to begin with. I apologize, too, if I sound a little too pessimistic for my own good or for anyone else’s liking, and if that deters you away from this work of mine, I understand. Hopefully by this coming Sunday, I’ll have another poem of mine for my regular “Poem of the Week” segment that will be more positive and perhaps even provide a solution for a problem that has always irked me, even (or, perhaps I should say, especially) as a youngster, for one reason or another. However, for those of you out there who are as sick and tired of certain other people’s attitudes about, quite frankly, anything at all and would appreciate some much-needed catharsis, I hope you will be able to find at least something in the following Shakespearean sonnet, The Dark Side of the Human Story.


The Dark Side of the Human Story
August 20, 2013

Human stupidity blows me away.
No matter how we progress as a race,
It rears its fat, ugly head anyway
And blows right up in our collective face.
Telling “ugly” folks to go kill themselves,
Even when they’ve done nothing wrong to us;
Raging at people to go straight to Hell
When our own words coax them to throw a fuss;
Making “jokes” about others’ misfortunes,
Mannerisms, int’rests, or pref’rences;
Cocky, spiteful words shot from oral guns,
Computer screens our only “defenses…”
Thin-skinned yet thick-skulled with razor tongues—
And this is but part of what we’ve become.


Well, that’s enough venting for me today. Hopefully, this poem wasn’t too much of a downer for anyone kind enough to read it, but hey—maybe there’s some chance that it’ll be of use to someone else out there, whatever that use may be. After all, let’s be realistic, people—there are too many people in this world who need to grow up, shut up, and stop getting carried away when it comes to something that’s meant to be enjoyed, be it a beloved music act or comic, a favorite sport or video game franchise, or even a comedic television show that’s actually funny.

At any rate, folks, thank you for stopping by my blog and catching up with me, and as I’ve said before, I have every intention of making my next poem a little bit more positive, to say the very least. In the meantime, though, feel free to visit out my author pages at Smashwords.com, Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk to check out the publications I have available for sale, and in the words of Ellen DeGeneres, “Be kind to one another.” Until next time, then, readers, happy reading!

Dustin M. Weber

Bonus Poem of the Week: Vow of the Imperfect

Hey, readers!

After some serious consideration, it’s come to my attention that because my most recent “Poem of the Week,” Big Dumb Wally, contains stronger language than pretty much any other work I’ve published on this blog thus far and therefore might only be suitable for a particularly small percentage of my audience, I owe it to the rest of my readers to publish something a little bit more sensitive and perhaps even heartfelt. As such, as a “Bonus Poem of the Week,” I’d like to share with you a little something I’d been able to flesh out yesterday called Vow of the Imperfect—a piece about one man’s desire to move forward with his long-troubled life and to pull himself together so as to become a more suitable human being upon which a long-lost love interest of his can rely. Hopefully, this is the kind of work that will appeal to those of you out there who may have been put off by the admittedly strong tone of Big Dumb Wally. Without further ado, then, please enjoy.


Vow of the Imperfect

September 9, 2012


I’m not a perfect person…just like Hoobastank once said.

I’ve got a lot of issues floating ‘round inside my head,

Many of which still bother me as I lie awake at night in my bed.

I’m ornery and high-maintenance, ill-disciplined and immature,

Paranoid and obsessive, and let’s not forget insecure.

In a nutshell, honey, let’s face it: I’m not exactly pure.

Let’s get one thing straight, though: I’m not afraid to change,

Especially since for far too long, things for me have been the same,

And if something new doesn’t happen for me soon, I’ll go insane.

I’m tired of the same old song and dance and fed up with my routine.

I need to move on with my life in hopes of making it more pristine,

And I’d like to find someone to share my new life with, if you know what I mean.

I hope that someone’s you, quite frankly, for you have all I’ve looked for:

A beautiful soul, a marvelous mind, a radiant smile, and more,

And I hope that once we’re together, our world will have plenty for us in store.

I hope you and I can be united as one, bride and groom,

And that maybe we can start a family some time soon

Once our wedding has concluded beneath the watchful yellow moon.

I hope that as we grow closer over our many years,

We can help one another overcome our myriad of fears

In hopes of making us feel more complete as human beings, my dear.

It’d sure help me feel whole again. That I know for a fact,

And I know I would no longer mentally be going to Hell and back

And having to endure an endless barrage of panic attacks.

I’m sure you have your issues, too, with which I’d like to help

Once I get the strength and courage to reconstruct myself

Into the man you’re looking for rather than some petty whelp.

After all, what you deserve is a man who’s spiritually strong

Who’s as devoted to you, heart and soul, as a summer day is long

And who’ll support you through thick and thin, no matter what goes wrong.

Am I that person, though? Not quite yet, I’ll admit,

But I’m willing to face my imperfect nature and get over it

So that I can finally have someone like you in my life, as heaven sees fit.

Something else I’d like to share before we happen to start up a romance

Is that if I happen to blow it for us, you needn’t give me a second chance,

For this is already Heaven’s way of helping me make it to the dance.

To see you again, therefore, is enough reward for me,

And for this opportunity, I’m as grateful as I can be.

Hopefully, then, I can carry out my end of the bargain and help us be free—

Be free from our insecurities and our fear of the unknown,

Free from the troubles we have today so that we can finally own

Some independence for ourselves and each other in this world whence we roam.

The matter is settled, then, as this is my official vow

To find us both a better life somewhere and somehow,

For if there’s a time for either of us to move forward, that time is now.

I promise you I’ll change for the better and be the man you deserve.

I promise I’ll be there for you when this world contests with your nerves,

And unlike some other men I could mention, I promise you I shan’t swerve.

This is my vow unto you. Take it however you may,

But even if I’m not part of your future in any which way,

Please know that deep within my heart, there’s a place where you’ll always stay.


And there you have it, folks—a little something extra this week that should hopefully balance things out as far as tone of voice is concerned. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it, and until next time, thank you for visiting my blog, and feel free to stop by my author page at Smashwords.com and follow me on Twitter @DustinMWeber. Otherwise, happy reading!


Dustin M. Weber

Poem of the Week: Gimme Some Noise!

Welcome back, readers!

For this week’s “Poem of the Week,” I’ve selected something that I’ve written recently about the kind of thing that helps me focus on my writing and what it means to me today. Without further ado, then, enjoy!


Gimme Some Noise!

July 27, 2012


So many bad memories floating in my head,

So many thoughts and feelings of uncertainty and dread,

This silence makes me feel as though I’m already dead.

You know what, then? It’s time for some noise!

Time for some Scorpions, White Lion, or Styx.

Maybe some Dragonforce with their insane guitar tricks.

Heck, even some Raized in Black, Endurance Mix—

I’ve got to hear something from the boys.

Not even just them, either. Let me hear the girls.

Why not give Lita Ford or Pat Benatar a whirl—

Some Doro, too, before my sickness makes me hurl

All this bile I’ve built up for far too long?

I need the soothing sounds of rock ‘n’ roll in my ears

To help me cope with all these recurring fears

I’m continuing to feel even after all these years,

For only music like this helps me carry on—

Music that takes me back to a much better place,

Where the drama of the real world hadn’t gotten in my face

And killed my hopes and dreams, making me a disgrace

To everyone who ever had faith in me.

Music like this gives me the courage I need

To get things done, to help me carry out my deeds

In a world so full of tackiness, insanity, and greed

Amongst so much else I can’t stand to see.

Music likes this takes me back to a place and time

Where the world made sense to this now blackened heart of mine,

Where time was still on my side, and life was still sublime—

Or at least less nightmarish than it now is.

With tunes like these in my head, focusing isn’t hard

On the tasks I need to get done in my house or my yard—

Especially at my computer, where I’m expected to be a bard

In this “Cyber Age” of the literary biz.

Therein lies the solution for my creativity

In this messed-up incarnation of the 21st century,

So do me a favor and put on some tunes for me

That’ll put me in the right frame of mind

To help me write the stories that people expect to read

That’ll pique their curiosity and give them ideas to feed

Their own imaginations and make them plant the seed

For their own written legacies to leave behind.


And there you have it, folks: short, sweet, to the point, and illustrative about that which helps me get through the day as a writer. At any rate, thank you all once again for stopping by my blog, and yes, Smashwords.com’s July Summer/Winter Sale is still going on, so in case you’ve yet to buy any of my three books for 25% off the regular
cover price, you still have a chance if you click here to visit my Smashwords.com author page. Hurry, though, for counting today, there are only three days left, and when Tuesday finally comes to a close, that’s it–over and done with. Otherwise, thanks again for catching up with me, and please stay tuned for when I release UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment in the not-too-distant future. Until then, as always, happy reading!


Dustin M. Weber

Twitter: @DustinMWeber