Poem of the Week: A Writer’s Ramblings about Time

A Writer’s Ramblings about Time
June 11, 2018

Too precious to waste,
And yet, look at how we do:
Hobbies and other
Activities that lead us
Nowhere and give us no skills

To learn from as we
Progress throughout our short lives
To become something
We’ve long dreaded becoming,
Therefore making us question

Ourselves all the more
To where we beat ourselves up
‘Til we leave ourselves
Wallowing in pools of self-
Pity and regret. Good grief,

The things we go through
To establish our place in
This crazy, diseased,
Violent world we call home!
It’s enough to make one scream.

The reason I don’t,
Though, is simple: I know I
Can’t do such a thing,
No matter how much I may
Want to otherwise for fear

Of losing what few
Bits of respect others may
Have in me, for who
Knows how much time I have left
To fulfill the destiny

I’ve begun forging
For myself long ago, yet
Have yet to achieve
For reasons that are both my
Fault and not, much to my shame.

It’s been a hellish
Ride, to be sure, and one that
Has yet to stop, but
I’m at least hoping that it
Soon will end the way that I

Had hoped it would since
The day I began forging
This path to greatness.
Will I at last make use of
This limited time I have

Lived so far, or have
I already wasted too
Much time by now? Well…
I guess there’s but one way to
Find out: Let time be my judge.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk
Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

Advertisements

Poem of the Week: Cold Season

Cold Season
April 7, 2018

Sniff!
Cold season…
Lingering, lasting, leeching…
Thought it was over.
Sniffing, sneezing, hacking…
Go away!
Cough!

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Nightmares from Yesterday

Nightmares from Yesterday
April 5, 2018

I’ve had it!
I’ve had enough—
Enough of the past,
Enough of nightmares,
Nightmares from yesterday,
Nightmares from my youth,
Youth that stunk,
Youth ill-spent—
Spent wasting time,
Spent putting up with idiots,
Idiots who dismissed me as worthless,
Idiots who treated me like trash—
Trash meant to be thrown away
Trash meant to be burned.
Burned I’ve been.
Burned I still am.
Am I ever to let go?
Am I ever to move on,
On towards success,
On towards the future,
Future full of respect,
Future when people see?
See that I’m worth something,
See what I’m about—
About moving forward,
About rising up,
Up like a phoenix,
Up to take my place—
Place amongst the greats who’ve come before me,
Place I long should’ve been,
Been by now,
Been in a perfect world.
World always in need of fresh material…
World ever yearning for good storytelling…
Storytelling that helps the world turn,
Storytelling to help take us away—
Away from drudgery,
Away from chaos,
Chaos otherwise unavoidable—
Chaos of the material world,
World too quick to close in on us all,
World that’s a mess—
Mess of violence and disease,
Mess of maniacs and morons,
Morons like the ones I’ve dealt with,
Morons like those from my nightmares.
Nightmares, let me be!
Nightmares, I wish thee gone.
Be…
Gone!

*****

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: Rambling about Dreams

Rambling about Dreams
December 17, 2017

Had a dream the other night, and not a pleasant one.
I was at a bowling alley with my family not having fun.
The place was crowded cheek to cheek and deafening as hell,
And the bowling we did was abysmal, as I’m sure you could tell.

Why I dreamt it, I’ll never know, but one thing I do know
Is that I’m glad it was a dream and that I’m spared the woe
Of having to live it for real, for I’ve enough grief and pain
To deal with in the real world threatening to kill my brain.

I don’t remember doing anything lately related to bowling,
So why would I dream about it? Just who or what is controlling
My train of thought when I’m asleep? Are these visions of mine
Perhaps from a life I’ve lived elsewhen that I’ve somehow left behind?

Are these visions of a future that has yet to come
Or the memories of some other soul caught, too, in a mental slum?
Are they trying to teach me a lesson or merely telling a tale
Meant solely to entertain me? The truth here might help me prevail

In my career, for who knows just where inspiration lies?
Maybe these dreams are for my own good and come to me so that I
Can craft new stories with them that folks have yet to hear and see.
That notion at least sounds promising, but something else troubles me:

What if these dreams are reminders of the schmuck I used to be
And a lifestyle I’m not proud of and have tried to leave behind me?
The events may have been reforged, but my old persona remains,
Portraying my faults, and if that’s the case, maybe I’ve something to gain.

There’s the birthday dream, after all, in which I kicked a hole
In the speaker of my birthday present: an expensive stereo.
There’s the dream where I worked at a department store and wouldn’t help
Any customers because I was such a prickly, nervous whelp.

I’ve even had many dreams in which I was made to relive high school,
Getting lost, losing my locker combo, or otherwise playing fool.
All these dreams remind me in one way or another
The problems I’ve tried to leave behind me in some way or other,

Even though the memories remain, much to my chagrin,
No matter how much I move on from them or the situation I’m in,
For in my dreams, they haunt me and may stay with me ‘til I die,
Which is why I try to purge them in my efforts to find out why

I dream, for surely my dreams mean something to me somehow
In the grand scheme of things…or I’m just having a cow,
Trying to read something from nothing in the long run,
And I should give up right now while I’m sane ‘til my name’s done.

After all, all this pondering’s been annoying even me,
For is there really one thing that all my dreams are meant to be?
Each dream needs to be treated like its own unique entity
In the instance I should analyze it learn what it means to me.

Each dream tells its own story, no matter the genre at hand,
And only by dissecting it by itself will I come to understand
The meaning of the dreams I have as they come to me at night,
And once that at last happens, there’s no stopping me, brother.

On that note, then, dreams, come on out, wherever you are,
And riddle my mind with wonder, whether you be near or far.
Paradise or purgatory, Nightwish or nightmare,
I’ll be ready for you, so come at me if you dare.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Agent Query Connect Experience

Agent Query Connect Experience
January 19, 2018

Arrogantly talking down to those who can’t quite get it right,
Brow-beating them for the simplest mistakes,
Condescension spewing forth from your mouth day and night,
Dismissing those whom you don’t feel have what it takes.

Egomaniac you are, prattling on and on,
Full of fecal matter in what you say—
Gobs of words that ultimately mean squat in the run so long,
Heavy with burden in many, if not all, ways.

Insensitive and ignorant, not even helping one bit…
Just who do you think you are, hopeless nag?
Knock off being so overbearing. I’ve had enough of it.
Learn some respect or pack your lousy bags.

My self-esteem deserves better than the beating it gets from you.
No more will your wretched essays disgrace me.
Open your eyes, ears, and mind if you know what’s good for you.
Put your words back in your mouth and let me be.

Quit acting like you know everything when you don’t know crap.
Realize you’re as fallible as the rest of us.
Stop making points that don’t even hit home and shut your trap.
Talking further to me for you from now on’s a bust.

Ugly have been our conversations, hence why I’m checking out.
Very upset has your patronizing made me.
Welcome your next victim if that’s what you’re all about.
X me from your life from now on, chickadee.

Yes, it’s time I moved from your judgment and abuse.
Z you in Hell, should I end up there myself.
I’ve learned the hard way that asking for help isn’t always of use
When trying to put myself on a bookstore shelf.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Poem of Hope for 2018

Poem of Hope for 2018
December 30, 2017

A new year is fast approaching, my friends.
Say goodbye to the year we’ve come to know.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

Well, folks, a new year’s coming ‘round the bend.
What good will it bring? Only Heaven knows.
A new year is fast approaching, my friends.

To all who’ve shown support, my thanks I send.
May good fortune be wherever you go.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

May somebody always be there to lend
You a helping hand, should you need it so.
A new year is fast approaching, my friends.

After all, it could be that we must fend
For ourselves, should the future bear us woe.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

Cross your fingers, then, for when this year ends,
Its foul or fresh nature we shall soon know.
A new year is fast approaching, my friends.
Hopefully what crap we’ve been through will end.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: New Computer

New Computer
December 10, 2018

New computer
New things to learn
Learn a new setup
Learn new programs
Programs for work
Programs for play
Play around
Play and discover
Discover how it all works
Discover what it all means
Means to you as an owner
Means as a sign of the times
Times of progress
Times of change
Change for worse
Change for better
Better take note
Better pause and reflect
Reflect on what you now have
Reflect on what you once had
Had with your old setup
Had in previous years
Years when certain functions never mattered
Years when other functions were the thing
Thing about technology
Thing about evolution
Evolution of electronics
Evolution…or devolution
Devolution of society
Devolution of humanity’s social structure
Structure around the Internet
Structure around machines
Machines relied upon for entertainment
Machines relied upon for former daily occurrences
Occurrences such as shopping
Occurrences such as watching the news
News of other outlets dying
News of other outlets growing obsolete
Obsolete as progress marches forth
Obsolete with job loss to boot
Boot to the tail for countless people
Boot to them, lest they learn to adapt
Adapt to our relentlessly tech-craving ways
Adapt to the ever-shifting climate
Climate ruled over by electronics
Climate where simplicity suffocates
Suffocates and withers in time
Suffocates as we lose ourselves
Time
Ourselves

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Thanksgiving’s Over

Thanksgiving’s Over
November 25, 2017

Thanksgiving’s
Finally over.
Gathering, sharing, celebrating…
That’s all over now.
Rushing, racing, toiling…
Fun’s done.
Drat!

*****

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