Bonus Poem of the Week: Badgered Resolution

Badgered Resolution
January 9, 2019

On and on and on you go.
When you’ll shut up, hell if I know.
So many are the flaws you see in my work
That you scold me like I’m some stupid jerk.
Your words you beat into my head
Like it’s your ego that must be fed.
Your points you incessantly nag on me ‘bout
With snide disdain pouring out of your mouth.
Your ridicule you slather on
As though everything I do is wrong…
No encouragement or compliments
Or any positive reinforcement,
For according to you, I can do no right.
In your mind, all my work’s but a blight.
Your message I too well comprehend,
But why the need for you to condescend?
Why talk down to me like I’m some child
With talent for naught but running wild
And causing mischief everywhere I go?
That thinking’s off base, if I may say so.
Not all who struggle at their craft are fools,
Though according to you, that is the rule,
Which you clearly show in your tiring essays
That tear me apart in every which way
To the point where your “help” no more does so
And comes out in insulting blows,
Slapping me ‘cross the face at each interval
To where I feel like punching a wall
At the notion that you need so many words
To tell me my flaws, in case I haven’t heard
From folks more gracious and astute than you
All that I need to see, say, and do
To grow and develop into something more
Than what I am now, you self-absorbed bore!
If nothing else, you vex me because
Some of your aid actually makes me pause
And notice its fallacies quite plain,
Which only further wracks my damaged brain
As the words you use don’t accurately
Describe where I went wrong, further frustrating me,
Telling me “Show. Don’t tell” when that’s not the case.
But rather too much detail given space
When I simply need to trim the fat in my work
And tighten things up. Thanks a lot, then, jerk,
For belittling me just to fuel your ego
Just like your precious sidekicks, who all must go
Away and do something more constructive
Than echo you and be counterproductive
In the name of “solidarity”
In your efforts to humiliate me
And treat me like trash just ‘cause I still slip
And fall. Yeah, thanks for that extra lip,
You broken records…you mindless shells…
You bandwagon jumpers…go to Hell!
How ‘bout being true “third pairs” of eyes
And cutting down your idol’s critiques to size
When they don’t make sense? Have you no spine
To call out ignorance, critics of mine?
No! You just sit there so finely by
And join in the “fun” of hanging me high,
Repeating that which has already been said
By one barely heavier in the head
Why my work is apparently trash,
Having no guts or sense to dish back hash
At the creep’s ignorance and arrogance.
Well, guess what: No more kicks in the pants!
I’ve had enough with the ridicule
And being treated like a total fool.
Yes, I’ve set myself up for it all
And shouldn’t be so surprised by this great fall,
But ‘twas simple advice I came to seek,
Not disgrace slapped upon my earnest cheek,
And if haughtiness is all you plan to serve,
Then good riddance! I’ll have none of your nerve
Anymore. Now, kindly excuse me,
For I’ve other places I need to be.
I’ve a plan to execute, and I shall
See to it that I at last succeed, pal,
And prove to myself and to creeps like you
And anyone else who comes out of the blue
To witness my rise that I am worth a damn
And can think for myself without you, man,
And learn from the mistakes I’ve made back then
To join all the other women and men
Who’ve achieved glory in my field before me
And at last be where I’ve long known I should be,
And you’ll be eating your words from your hand
As I prove that my work has a place in this land,
So sit back, hut up, and kiss my grits.
I’m done taking tongue lashings and cheap hits
From pseudo intellectuals just like you.
Now let me show you how well I can do.

*****

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

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Poem of the Week: Ramblings from Atop the Iron Tower

Ramblings from Atop the Iron Tower
January 4, 2019

Solitary confinement, squished into a nook,
Trapped with my own thoughts, feeling like a common crook,
Rooting through these dusty shelves and reading these same ol’ books
Over and over again ‘til my head hurts.

I learn and learn all I can, pouring over each tomb,
Absorbing all these facts I can until my brain goes BOOM,
Only to end up with a headache so strong that I swoon
And naught to remember, for all that it’s been worth.

Even the facts that stick don’t do much to feed my soul
Or nourish my hungry mind, over which I’m losing control
For my inability to apply them has been taking its toll,
And if I don’t so much as leave this room, I’ll scream.

I know there’s a world out there towards which I can apply
All I’ve been trying to learn, and I can’t understand why
I can’t do so, for how many tests must anyone, including I,
Pass to ensure I wake up from this dream

That’s gone sour faster than I’d initially expected?
Furthermore, what of these thoughts in my mind I’ve just detected
Like my fear of unfulfilled mastery and my dread in being rejected
By those who’ve no faith in or want for my skills?

The beginning of my journey, after all, may have gone well.
Then again, it was the simplest step, as ‘m sure you can tell,
And the more complex things have gone since, the more they’ve become hell
With each and every brain cell I’ve surely killed.

I need a break from all this toil before I lose what’s left
Of my sanity, of which I’ve already become mostly bereft.
Surely, there’s more to being human in which I can become deft.
Why not grant me leave from this cell so I can see?

Alas, I’m forbidden, hence I stay here and atrophy,
My muscles shrinking by the minute just as my brain fries,
My stomach gurgles, and my lungs burn with so much dust I’d cry,
If only my eyes could shed such relief for me.

Then again, would I even know how to interact with the masses,
Should I finally pull myself together after all these classes?
Would I know how to hold a conversation or even handle passes,
Or will I be doomed to live inside my own head?

Would all I’ve learned be of any use even without application
Prior executed ‘fore I’m at last unleashed upon the nation?
At this rate, I doubt I’ll ever live up to expectations,
Oh, how I wish I’d overcome this dread!

Maybe I’m merely working myself up into such a snit
And dooming myself in my quest to find my perfect fit.
At the rate this whole thing’s going, I might as well up and quit.
On the other hand, it might be too late for that, friend,

And I wonder if I’m the only one who’s come to feel this way
Upon being locked up in an iron tower day after day,
Feeling as though I’ve been doing nothing but slaving away
For something that might not be worth it in the end.

*****

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

Bonus Poem of the Week: 2019 New Year’s Diamante

2019 New Year’s Diamante
Decmber 30, 2018

Change
New year
Wondering, pondering, wanting
Something better than now…
Hoping, wishing, praying…
Be better,
2019!

*****

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

Poem of the Week: One Year Left

One Year Left
December 30, 2018

One year left in the decade. How will it turn out?
What will happen throughout it? What will it be all about?
Will it be another year of the same crap we’ve endured before,
Or will we at last know the greatness that long should’ve been in store
For all humanity when this accursed decade first began?
After all, I’ve got to tell you…the 2010s have stunk, man.
It seems these days we’ve been more divided than ever before,
No thanks to political raging, entitlement, bigotry, and more.
People have chewed up people over the pettiest of things,
Screaming “oppression” when genuine oppression waited in the wings
To blow up in people’s faces in the form of forced progress—
Progress we should’ve felt naturally without hassle or stress
From feral beasts barking at each other over lines drawn in the sand
By none but their own hands all across this forsaken land.
Violence raged in the streets, too, during which many lives
Have tragically come to and end, by no means as a surprise,
Via homicide and suicide and often ‘nough by the same hand,
Leaving the bitter taste of tears in mouths across the land.
Throughout this age, too, ignorance has maintained its iron grasp
Upon humanity worldwide, its great fist too strong to unclasp,
Leaving us prey to our own vices as mentioned before
As well as to poor writing with grammatical mistakes galore—
Not quite as problematic as that which I’ve earlier said,
But poor punctuation, capitalization, and spelling still fill me with dread
And make me wonder if logic’s next to fly out the window,
Leaving us to devolve further into raging clods and bimbos,
And after that, our mathematical skill and scientific know-how
And our penchant to learn from history. If so, we’re damned…and how!
After all, the 2010s so far have been little more than a mess
That’s left humanity worldwide in a state of vexed distress,
And if things don’t pick up come this next year at the latest, friends,
Then we’re all just another step closer to bringing it all to and end.
Let’s all wake up, then, and get our acts together once and for all
Before the world as we know it ends and civilization falls
Into whatever dystopia we may have heard or read about.
Now’s not the time to cry or scream or stamp our feet and pout.
We’ve all let society dissolve into this festering heap
When we all know that working together is the only way to beat
The kinks out of the system, so let’s cut out the bickering
And stop treading on one another’s toes so that we can at last sing
Auld Lang Syne as tradition goes ‘round this time every year,
For more than ever, we all need to raise a cup of cheer
To one another to ring in the year that awaits us ‘round the bend,
And unless we wise up and straighten ourselves out, this drama shan’t end,
And we’ll be back to where we started at this decade’s beginning.
Enough of the hatred, then, everyone, for with it, there’s no chance of winning.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Message to a Disgruntled Wrestling Fan

Message to a Disgruntled Wrestling Fan
November 14, 2018

You try, try, try ‘til you can’t try anymore.
You give it your best shot, but doing so becomes a chore,
And your teeth grind while your blood boils and sweat pours out your pores.
How much longer will this go on ‘til you can take no more?

Too many times you’ve been burned by products A, B, C,
And so forth that you’re reluctant to try our Product Z,
But even when you try Z, you still have your complaints.
No matter where you look for love, you only find where it ain’t.

Then you start to wonder if that which you’d tried to find
Was even worth looking for in the first place, friend of mine,
Questioning all the while if it was all just a waste of time
Or if you’d chanced to miss out on something truly sublime

That happened to leave the scene once upon a time ‘til one day
It all comes soaring back as quickly as it’d gone away.
Alas, that thing has yet to return, if it’d ever been there at all,
Else why would you be here lamenting that which you used to love fall?

It’s a sad state of affairs, friend. That even I can say,
Lest chance you’re merely overreacting to how things are today,
For I doubt things are quite as bas as you make them out to be.
Then again, you’ve been so badly burned that you’ll never believe me.

Trust me. I’ve been burned, too, time after time again
To the point where I’ve been left begging for how things were back when,
And I hadn’t any patience left, if any at all, in fact,
And the fecal matter I’d been watching wasn’t worth a heart attack.

In short, then, I don’t blame you for turning your back on this mess
For fear of putting yourself through unnecessary distress.
I think you’re being hasty, though, and should give things more of a chance
Before disowning your love altogether and leaving the dance.

Besides, knowing how you operate, you’ll be back any way
Just like so many other folks in your position these days
Because you can’t let go of it all on account of something deep
Inside of you that controls you, no matter if you’re awake or asleep

And makes you keep coming back to that which you both love and hate—
One day the one, the next the other…forever you debate.
No matter how much you want to leave it for good, you never can
In the surely vain hope it’ll improve, and all I can tell you, man,

Is that you do you, for all I can do is give you advice
Concerning your situation, which I can clearly see ain’t nice.
Stay or leave forever, then, but whichever path you choose,
Keep in mind what you’ll gain from each path and what you stand to lose.

Good luck either way on the path you take, whichever one it’ll be.
I’m sure you’ll stand by your decision and hope you’ll soon see
The outcome you desire for the product you once loved.
After all, it’s come to fit you like a hand inside a glove.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Protest Against Corporate Wrestling

Protest Against Corporate Wrestling
December 6, 2018

Why do I even bother? Why do I even care?
Why do I pay attention to that which goes nowhere?
Why did I ever love that which has never loved me back?
Whatever the case, I’d better stop before it all fades to black.
Life’s short enough as it is to be living in misery,
So why am I bothering with this tripe I keep tuning in to see?
The big wigs know they’ll never dip below two million hits,
Even when they churn out a product that treats their audience like twits
With lame comedy, complete with toilet humor, in between fights
And the same tired bits with the same players night after night after night
Playing characters who betray their casting for no reason at all
Other than the fact that the writers somehow aren’t on the ball–
Characters otherwise so bland and predictable that it hurts
For all but those with low expectations or ignorant little squirts.
It’s all for an audience of two, both of whom are in denial
Of the downfall of their product on account of their acting senile,
For many are the pundits and fans who’re fed up with this trash,
No matter how many supporters still willingly fork over their cash
Rather than support alternatives that shy away from pandering
And utilize straight-forward formulas to which I’ve been meandering,
And though these products have flaws of their own, I must admit,
At least there’s some effort put into them that doesn’t leave me throwing fits.
At least they make the effort to show something I haven’t seen
Or something I have, but in a different way, if you know what I mean.
At least they dare to be different and respect the art upon which
They’ve based themselves upon, thus prompting me to make a switch.
No more will I let some billionaire half-ass his way towards
Greatness with a product that’s clearly not worthy of reward.
No more will I let others tell me what’s treasure or trash.
I’m a grown man with a mind of my own that won’t settle for hash—
Especially that which kills my braincells second by second each sitting.
Such a fate for me I simply no longer see as fitting.
To the alternatives, then, I shall from now on dedicate my time.
Goodbye, then, corporate nonsense. I’ll no more have your cheese with my wine,
For I shall whine no more—only dine upon high quality.
After all, if I’m to be happy, such is how things must be.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Generation Wars

Generation Wars
November 30, 2018

Generation wars are naught but a bore
Fueled by childish minds
Whose idea of “bold” is screaming at the old
For “leaving [them] behind”

To struggle and sweat through hardship, yet
Not claiming any agency
For their own near-demise, for in their own eyes,
They’re as perfect as can be.

Then again, what about the ignorant louts
From the generation after,
So “stupid” and “lazy,” they drive their elders crazy
With disdainful, derisive laughter?

Apparently, the future shall be
Inherited by the weak
Of brain, spine, and soul with no mind for old
Ways in the wake of the bleak

Fate that awaits our race in the last hour
Of its existence on Earth,
And we alone shall be our own killers, pal,
So take that for what it’s worth.

That’s at least the belief of middle-aged grief,
Which gets narrated each age,
And it never changes or rearranges
No matter how we’ve turned the page

To move on to the next chapter. Still, we’re vexed
To listen to the bigotry
Of whiny old hags, dumb brutes, and windbags
Too bitter and selfish to see

How they could help the world ‘fore they at long last hurl
It all into the sun to burn
And with their younger kin join forces to win
It all back so that both parties learn

What it takes to keep it all from falling deep
Into trouble just like it is now
With all violence, bickering, and virulence
We’ve all had to endure…and how!

Of course, it all takes younger folks to wake
Up and realize what’s truly wrong,
Then use their heads in helping put to bed
All that’s crippled us all for so long.

After all, if the young want respect sung
‘Bout them, it’s better now than never
To show that they care ‘bout the future and where
It goes once their predecessors

At long last retire and afterwards expire,
Never to be heard from again,
Leaving the young to take over things in their wake
And the cycle to restart like back when.

Then again, how can we move on with no plan—
No guidance to see us through
Or wisdom to show just where we must go
And what exactly we must do

To reach precisely where we need to be?
Well, that’s where the old must come in
To share their experience and aid the young hence
In their mutual quest for a win

Of prosperity for humanity,
For only teamwork will provide
Society a chance to once more dance
‘Neath the sun in our hopes to survive.

Enough, then, of these spats, for they’re not where it’s at
When it comes to the global collective
Moving on to tomorrow—one, too, rid of sorrow.
It’s time we all must be more protective

And start working together so that we can weather
The drama we’ve made for ourselves
So that prosperity’s ‘round the corner to see
And that fear is back on its shelf.

To Hell, then, with these petty wars, if you please.
They’re not helping us in the least.
Only cooperation will help this wrecked nation
And the world at large know peace.

*****

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