Poem of the Week: Purity and Innocence

Purity and Innocence
August 29, 2017

One minute you’re as giddy as any child can be,
Enjoying life as you wonder ‘bout what kind of future you’d see.
Next minute, you’re all grown up in a dead-end state of mind,
Looking back and shaking your head at the childhood you’d left behind.

“Where did it all go?” you ask. “What happened to those days?
What happened to that world I once knew and its simpler, gentler ways?”
All the while, the bills keep piling up, as do the demands
Of maintaining a home, life, and family as time slips through your hands

At an ever-increasing pace that never seems to let up,
Which brings you to sigh in disgust , wondering when enough’s enough
And if you’ll ever find the balance you’ve for long so desired
Before your soul floats up to Heaven’s gates or burns in Hell’s fires.

Such is what we all cope with in one way or another,
Only to be reminded that yesterday wasn’t always golden, brother
Or sister, and to have some jackass remind us of all the crap
That made the “good ol’ days” not so great to where we just want to nap

Away the headache we’ve gotten so as to better deal with today,
Asking ourselves how the present could be better in anyway,
For too deep are we in our mindsets of doom and gloom to see
Just how beautiful the present from another perspective can be.

Try looking for the good in things for once on your radio or TV
And stick around for your escape from the harsh reality.
Head to your local bookstore and look for a new book to read—
Preferably one not meant to fuel an overhyped hack author’s greed.

Head to your local park and take a walk on a nature trail.
Trek to your local farmer’s market and see what might be for sale.
Anywhere where simple, wholesome stuff is should be place enough
To prove that not all’s been corrupted by the present’s tacky stuff.

Step away from your iPhones and your tablets for a sec
To take in the scenery around you and realize that, “Heck!
There is something ‘bout this world for which I can hold some wonder.
I needn’t always concern myself with some public figure’s blunder

Or any of the ills around me that keep happening day after day.
Yes, they exist, but need I fixate solely on them? No way!
Not when simplicity and innocence still exist in this stretch of the world.”
Then, once you come to that realization, a new perspective unfurls,

And you come to understand that no matter how ugly things get,
The world still has some purity—no matter how little—yet
To serve as an escape for when things get a little too much,
Be it too crass, hostile, superficial, demanding, and such.

Such is a blessing, for as we know, sadly, yesterday’s gone,
And while it surely hurts to know that, we all must say so long
To what we once knew, let’s not forget to honor what we’ve got
Before the day comes when we leave this earth to the computers and robots.

The “good ol’ days” may be gone, yet not forgotten, but that doesn’t mean
We can’t make the most from what we have left in the face of the obscene,
So do what you can to take a break from that which you’ve come to revile
And stop to smell the roses, so to speak, every once in a while.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: A Message for All Aspiring Novelists

A Message to All Aspiring Novelists
April 18, 2017

No one likes being rejected and tossed into the muck,
Having noses turn up at him or her and wished “Best of luck.”
No one likes being cast out from where he or she wants to be
Or denied that which he or she’s been fighting for. Believe me.
No one likes to struggle, especially when it comes to
Simply getting through the day. This I can assure you.
Even when there’s a pot of gold at the rainbow’s end,
Crossing said rainbow can be a chore. On that you can depend.
So much of a chore it is, too, that time and time again,
Too many people throw up their arms and walk away in the end,
Never to realize their dream, whether they deserve
To live that dream or not, all because of how their nerves
Have become shot over the course of months or years at a time,
And in the case of the worthy folks, it really is a crime,
For who’ll ever know the stories they could’ve shared with the world?
Certainly not the commonplace man, woman, boy, or girl
Or anyone who’d benefit from the messages within,
Even if said benefit is merely escaping the sin
And vice that’s been gripping the world for far too many years now.
Trust me…we all could use some escapism these days…and how!
We all deserve new stories with each year that passes by.
We all need something new to feed our hungry ears and eyes.
Otherwise, the old tales, good and bad, will grow stale,
And as they do, so will our minds, lest new storytellers prevail
To provide us with new substance with which to enrich our souls
And awaken within us the will to carry on into the fold
And accept each day as it comes, no matter what’ll be in store
When it happens to arrive, so long as it isn’t an utter bore.
After all, life’s one big adventure that we all undertake,
And it’s up to us to make the most of it with what we make
In terms of goals and other decisions and the choices that lead
Us down one path or another, and what better way to heed
This message than gleam inspiration from the stories we learn
To spark our thoughts and ambitions and help our hearts’ fires burn
With the passion that keeps us going every hour of the day.
That being said, why let rejection keep getting in the way?
The dream is still worth having, even though it may not seem so,
So keep your chins up and your noses to the grindstone and tally ho!
Keep your wits about you, too, and learn what makes a sale,
And may courage, creativity, and wisdom help you prevail
In the seemingly never-ending saga of chasing a dream
That might actually be more attainable than it might now seem,
For stories are more important than even you may ever know,
And only a sharp mind and a strong heart will help you see just so.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: Screwing in My Heels

Screwing in My Heels
April 5, 2017

Depression
Bitter, jaded
Fretting, lamenting, panicking
Gotta change my luck
Studying, orchestrating, toiling
Work complete!
Hope…

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Villanelle of Courage

Villanelle of Courage
March 19, 2017

I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve moaned enough groans and cried enough tears.
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

For too long, I’ve felt like a hapless whelp,
Always at the mercy of my own fear.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.

Facing things alone, few folks ‘round to help,
Nagging doubts always raging in my ears…
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

‘Tis the cruelest thing in my life I’ve felt.
Nowadays, though, I’ve grown sick of the jeers.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.

It’s about time I stood up for myself,
Took life by the horns, and conquered my fears.
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

After all, I alone can teach myself
To attain and keep that which I hold dear.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.
Time to store my self-pity on myself.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: 2017 Hopes

2017 Hopes
December 24, 2016

An end to extremism and unprovoked hatred for
Any given demographic. Why can’t that be in store?

No more senseless violence against anyone anywhere
For any sordid excuse. Is that possible to be done?

No more deadly diseases spreading everywhere they please.
We’ve already had plenty bringing humanity to its knees.

No more groundless anger spewed towards others on the Web.
We’ve seen and heard enough already. Time for such wrath to be dead.

No more shoving agendas in other people’s faces—
Political, religious, or whatnot. Such crap has already disgraced us.

No more frothing maniacs trying to lead us astray
From healing this ravaged world. Let’s bring about a brighter day.

No more stifling creativity, either. Time for ideas new
To provide new experiences for us all and see te masses through.

No more bitter, jaded snideness or insulting intelligence.
We’ve endured enough such trash thrown ‘tween each other over the fence.

No more sitting around idle when evil, bald and true,
Takes place, for we must shoot it down if good is to pull through.

No more blind eyes turned to what we know deep within our hearts
Is harmful to our wellbeing. Let’s stomp out evil ‘fore it starts.

No more foolishly smearing labels on that which we don’t understand,
For ignorance won’t bring us squat in terms of rebuilding this land.

No more wallowing in sorrow and self-loathing over the past.
We must buck up and work for tomorrow if we want good fortune to last.

No more hapless fixation over that which we can no longer change.
We must look to the present and future to see what we must now arrange.

Finally, no more of the same old crap we’ve long endured.
We’ve done nothing to help the status quo wallowing in such manure.

The past is past, and yes, like gas, it stank as it blew up
In our faces time after time , but guess what: Enough’s enough.

Another year’s ‘round the corner, and though it may seem to turn out dark,
There’s still a chance it can turn out great if we knew but where to start,

So let’s pull ourselves together and work as one to see
This world become a better place for the likes of you and me

And all who shall inherit the planet once we’ve left it physically.
Keep your fingers crossed, all, for we could all use some positivity.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: A Fool’s Determination

A Fool’s Determination
January 14, 2016

As I sit and brood in my loft,
I can’t help but reflect and scoff.
Just where was my heads?
How could I be braindead
And not feel something was off?

I should have known at first sight
That something just wasn’t right,
But I though with my heart—
Not my head—at the start
And submitted without a fight.

I gave it all I had, too—
One hundred percent through and through—
And what do I get?
What do I have yet
By which I remember you?

Just a piece of junk with no worth
And a void where there used to be mirth
In the core of my soul
That has taken its toll
On what should have been my rebirth

From the scared little boy I still am
Into a strong, confident man
With a loving family
Who’d look up to me
As the greatest man in the land:

Strong in both body and mind,
Never shirking ‘way from the grind,
Back fully off the wall
As I confront it all
With guts and nerves backing my behind

And, more importantly, brains
To keep me from going insane
And to sort it all out,
Find out what it’s about
Before I get hit with the pain.

Sadly, I hadn’t any wits,
And boy, did I get hit
Where it hurts others most,
And now I’ll never boast
Having wife, kids, home—none of it!

What have I nowadays to show
For my life to those who don’t know
What I’m worth to the world,
Every boy and girl?
Practically naught but my own woe.

I could have been somebody grand—
Someone worth shaking everyone’s hand
From those who can’t pay rent
To the President
And all in between, woman and man.

Alas, what am I now, though,
But a hapless, hopeless schmo
Who should’ve been smart
From the very start
But now wallows in shame and woe

All ‘cause I was too dumb to look
‘Fore I leapt across the brook.
Yeah, ain’t that nice?
Now I’m paying the price
Over all that time I took.

Hopefully, there’s a way
To redeem myself someday
And prove to everyone
That I’m not just some bum
Whose beyond his own best days,

And when that day comes, folks’ll see
That there’s far more to me
Than what they see now.
I’ll prove it—and how!—
Exactly what I’ve meant to be,

And all this crap I’ve been through
Will be tossed to the sky so blue,
All figments of the past,
Nevermore to last,
And I’ll no more be haunted by you,

And my future will at last be bright,
And I’ll finally see the light
Of prosperity.
Just you watch me
At last I’ll succeed in this plight.

‘Til then, enjoy my misery,
You spiteful son of a B.
Many battles you’ve scored,
But I’ll win the war
In the end. Just you wait and see!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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Poem of the Week: Hope for the Holidays

Christmas 2015 Hope

Hope for the Holidays
December 1, 2015

The future can change in so many ways.
Just keep your chin up to see what it brings.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

Long we’ve been used to seeing darker days.
Long have we felt anxiety’s stiff sting.
The future can change in so many ways.

Long have we forgotten positive ways,
‘Specially ‘round the time when angels sing.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

Tune your ears to the bells of Santa’s sleigh
And just imagine all the hope he brings.
The future can change in so many ways.

I’m not talking, either, toys from past days
Or cranberries and popcorn strung on string.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

I’m talking the promise of brighter days
For all who combat this decade’s sharp sting.
The future can change in so many ways.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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Image used in this post (c) 2015 EmbLibrary.com. The remainder of the content within this post however, is my own.

Poem of the Week: Down but Not Quite Out

Down but Not Quite Out
November 21, 2015

Not knowing where to go, not knowing what to do,
Not knowing who I am or who I’ll be when I’m through,
Never proud of my merits, no matter what praise I get,
Always seeing upcoming ventures as “the worst one yet.”

Never thinking I’ll get anywhere in life,
Especially where I want to be with all my personal strife,
Wishing I was a winner from when I was born ‘til now,
Wondering if I ever was, and if I was, then how?

After all, with all of the mistakes I’ve made
Has come a great price that I still haven’t fully paid.
When will I stop paying? Honestly, I can but guess.
Hopefully soon, though, for I expect to pass this test,

And hopefully I can still be a winner one day.
Really, I wish it would happen in the worst way.
Maybe it will happen once I get my act together
And bring upon myself some change in the “whether,”

And yes, I spelled that “whether” as in “whether or not”
I’ll at last earn what I want or stay with what little I’ve got.
I’d like to have the money to help support my family
And daily prove to be the best person I can be.

That day hasn’t come yet, but I’m hoping that it will
Once I hoist my carcass out of my self-pity and swill
And actually apply myself to the goals I wish to achieve.
All I really need is to have discipline and believe,

And who knows? All this drama just might become history
As would be true with all my lousy insecurity.
Wouldn’t that be great? Oh, how my voice would ring the rafters
If I could at long last live happily ever after.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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Poem of the Week: A Message to Madam Doubt

Hey, readers!

Sorry I’m as late as I am in posting this latest poem of mine. I don’t have a good excuse for my tardiness, but I nonetheless hope this composition was worth the wait. Please enjoy, and thank you all for your support.

Regards,
Dustin M. Weber

*****

A Message to Madam Doubt
November 6, 2015

I am not stupid. I am not dumb.
I’m not the loser you think I’ve become.
I’m not as useless as you’d like to say
Just ‘cause I don’t ace it all right away,

Yet you belittle me each chance you get,
Scoffing at the lack of success I’ve met,
Scolding me for even tiny mistakes
I’ve made ‘long the way. Give me a break!

How many folks get it right the first try?
Am I so worthless that you want me to die?
I know claiming I’m only human’s cliché,
But are my flaws so grand that I need to pay

In the worst way possible? Gee, that’s extreme,
And not quite constructive, if you know what I mean.
What have I done to prove I’m a curse—
A thorn in the side of humanity or worse?

Besides, even you’re not perfect, my dear,
So in terms of insults, you’d better steer clear,
Lest you wish for me to expose all your faults
To the world. Don’t believe me? Let’s open the vault.

To start off, you’re an arrogant, overbearing nag
Who’s quick to find fault in others and rag
‘Bout how inferior others are in your eyes
And, to you, which virtues they have are lies.

The way you hide behind your scorn, furthermore,
Sickly exposes what you have in store
As far as personal issues go,
Which you take out on others, much to their woe,

With such frequency that it makes me puke
And criticisms towards you, you swiftly refute—
Often enough screaming like Debra Barone,
Shrieking defiantly with a banshee’s shrill tone.

Such is how two-faced you can be,
Wreaking with fetid hypocrisy
With plenty of stench to fill any room
Which I’m surprised hasn’t led to your doom,

But fear not, for lest you clean up your act,
Your obnoxiousness shall stab you in the back
And leave you writhing on the floor in pain
While “bottom feeders” like me finally gain

All we’ve struggled for and all we’ve cared about,
Even while hearing hate spew forth from the mouths
Of people like you who fail to believe
We’re worth anything and will someday achieve

Any of that which we’ve been fighting for:
Justice, redemption, prosperity, and more.
We’ve got what it takes. Just you wait and see,
And you shall soon witness what we can be

And how what we do can change the world,
So sit back and watch the future unfurl
And prepare to eat all your disparaging words
As I and others finally get to be heard

By those who’ll see us for what we are
In truth and will follow us near and far,
Hearing what we have to say to them all,
And they’ll help us soar ‘til when we’re meant to fall.

It might not be tomorrow or even next year,
But it’ll happen soon. Just you wait, dear,
And you’ll see with your own eyes what I am
Deep down inside. Take that to heart, ma’am.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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Poem of the Week: For Those Who Were Born to Write

For Those Who Were Born to Write
September 12, 2014

Always on your feet, no time to yourself,
Always being hounded to serve everybody else,
Little to no chance to do what you need to do,
Little if any foresight to know that you’ll pull through,
But you keep on working anyways as guided by your will,
Swallowing the thought of rejection, that jagged little pill,
Trying to stay focused on the task sitting before you,
Resisting the urge to get sidetracked, should said task bore you,
Failing miserably at times ‘cause your work can be hard,
Trying to make sense and logic on a mostly blank white card
With details here, less details there, a fetching plot all the way through,
Relatable characters from start to end, all concocted by you.
What becomes of your work, though, when you’re at long last done?
Does it finally hit the shelves to be enjoyed by everyone,
Or do those in power dismiss it as naught but a waste of time
And cash and thus turn it down for something more sublime?
Should it be dismissed, too, just what is the excuse?
Is the recipient genteel, or does he/she feed you abuse,
And how long are you expected to go on without reward?
How many more years of rejected effort can you afford?
What else can you do? What else does it take
Before a legacy and a fortune you may make?
Even when you’re accepted, how long will your star shine?
Will the stories that you tell provide a literary gold mine
For readers to enjoy throughout the ages from then on out,
Or will you last only one tale and then be forgotten about?
Also, should you be famous, will you attain true fame
And deserve all the praise and riches you’re sure to attain,
Or will you be rightfully reviled for producing tasteless dreck
That only the most wayward individual would loathe to forget?
Such are the many questions that float through a writer’s head,
Producing enough uncertainly from which can spawn sheer dread,
But giving up is no option, if for naught but one reason:
Surrendering to one’s dubiety is never in season—
Not if one wishes, anyways, to make a career of one’s hobby,
Which is why—for me, at least—the solution is to continue to lobby
For my work to reach the masses on as broad a scale as I can
And hope that my words will be read by eyes from every land
And to turn what I love into something I can only love even more,
For who knows what the fulfillment of such a dream has in store
For me, should it ever happen? Thus, I hope you’ll excuse me,
For ‘tis time I proved to all just how dedicated I can be
And carry on in my mission to bring my work to life,
No matter the obstacles that threaten to burden me with strife.
I was born to write, after all, and keep on writing I will
Until my dreams are finally fulfilled. Ah, what a thrill!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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