Poem of the Week: Generation Labels

Generation Labels
May 20, 2018

Generation labels
Generation titles
Titles handed out
Titles based on generalizations
Generalizations so broad
Generalizations so sweeping
Sweeping and inflexible
Sweeping across entire age groups
Groups determined by years born
Groups determined by certain events
Events and situations
Events supposed to have molded us
Us victims of our own devices
Us victims of our own system
System meant to identify
System meant to classify
Classify instead of segregate
Classify instead of alienate
Alienate us even further
Alienate us from one another
Another thing useless
Another thing counterproductive
Counterproductive squabbles
Counterproductive bickering
Bickering so childish
Bickering so pathetic
Pathetic and obnoxious
Pathetic and petty
Petty but frequent
Petty but common
Common sense now oxymoronic
Common sense gone
Gone like the wind
Gone with respect
Respect and dignity
Respect and humanity
Humanity must coexist
Humanity must unite
Unite and work together
Unite to help Earth move forward
Forward is the only way to go
Forward towards peace
Peace long denied us
Peace and prosperity
Prosperity in understanding
Prosperity in cooperation
Cooperation in crossing the gap
Cooperation ‘fore our fate is sealed
Gap
Sealed

*****

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

Advertisements

Poem of the Week: A Writer’s Mother’s Day Thanks

A Writer’s Mother’s Day Thanks
May 11, 2018

For suff’ring me when I was at my worst,
For guiding me when I had lost my way,
Of all those I’d faith in, you were the first
To help me make the most of a bad day.
For teaching me right from wrong at all costs
And kicking my butt when I needed it,
Yet no matter how much you were the boss,
You still took care of me as you saw fit.
You showed me how to craft my moral code,
Which guides me even through my darkest days,
And thanks to that, my dreams shall soon explode
To benefit us all somehow, some way.
Thank you, Mom, for everything you have done.
I promise you that my war shall be won.

*****

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

*****

Image used in this post (c) 2018  MooneyMooneyClub.com.au. The remainder of the content within this post however, is my own.

Poem of the Week: Spring 2018 in the Midwest

Spring 2018 in the Midwest
April 27, 2018

Spring
Finally here
Thawing, melting, reawakening
About time, Mother Nature!
Shining, sprouting, singing
Green season
Yes!

*****

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

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: Savagery

Savagery
typed December 12, 2001 (date composed unknown; 1999-2000)

We humans are such self-righteous beings, boasting that we’re so hot
While all the while insisting that other creatures, in turn, are not,
But really, who’s to say that all the goblins, centaurs, and trolls
Are utterly uncivilized monsters? Who dares to say that those
Of a species more akin to Nature—“savages,” one might say—
Are so inferior to our ilk in every single way?
Have such fools ever taken the time out of their meaningless lives
To truly examine these other breeds and see that all the jive
That our insolent race has claimed of such folk is total trash
Said by us merely to keep our fragile egos from being smashed
By the truth concerning our supposedly “civilized” breed in this world
That proves that intelligent beings everywhere—women, men, boys, and girls—
Were made to suit the purpose of God, however He set it so?
I must confess to you, my kin, that the answer here is no.
I tell you this, however, that no matter who we are,
No matter if we trust our fate in computers or in the stars,
That if we look upon fellow beings with such blind disgust
For any difference they may have in relation to us,
We’d in turn make a poor example of ourselves as well, you see,
For if these other races are savages, then, indeed, so are we.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: X vs. Y in the 2010s (and Where I Hope It Leads into the 2020s)

X vs. Y in the 2010s (and Where I Hope It Leads into the 2020s)
March 19, 2018

You damn dirty Millennials! You’re ruining everything.
You’re hogging the limelight meant to show us doing our thing.
You and your stupid selfies clogging up the Internet,
And everything these days is so catered to you, it makes me sweat.
Isn’t it enough that the Baby Boomers fed you trophies and toys,
Even when you didn’t earn them while all the girls and boys
Of my generation busted our asses for nothing in return
And now must clean up the Boomers’ mess as they leave this world to burn.
You’re not even helping us, either, with this mantle we’ve taken up.
You’re just sitting there fiddling with your goofy gadgets, pups,
Flipping your fecal matter on your blogs on Deviant Art
Over the pettiest of things as though you’re falling apart
At the seems like scarecrows who’ve been torn to pieces by crows.
When you’ll stop such childish melodrama, only Heaven knows,
For you’ve been oversensitive since day one of your ascent
Like the special snowflakes you all are—like wire, so easily bent.
Only Heaven knows, too, just how many of your own kind
Have taken to blogs and YouTube to rag on the terms you grind
Out like “hater,” “YOLO,” “butthurt,” “triggered”—I could go on,
But I think you get my point, basement dwellers, so buzz off and so long.
Enjoy your safe spaces, your job-hopping, your short attention spans,
And your reputation as the worst generation in all the land.

Get over yourself, you Gen-X jerk—you embittered, middle-aged creep!
You claim we’re self-entitled and that it’s justice you seek
For us “stealing” the limelight you could’ve had, had you screwed your heels in
And dealt with your own problems like the grownups you should’ve been?
We never asked for “millennial pink” or all the petty shots
We’ve taken from you and the Boomers both while dealing with what we’ve got
Like student loans and fruitless career paths towards high-paying fields.
We’ve planted more seeds for success than you know that have yet to yield,
Yet you, flippant cowards you are, see the scumbags ‘mongst our kind
And act like they represent us all and conclude in your lazy minds
That we’re all in need of burial for their misdeeds. Uh, yeah…no.
Besides, Gen-X isn’t perfect, as you ignorantly prove so
With your tired, run-of-the-mill arguments that you still use constantly
From behind the safety of your keyboards with bitter jealousy
At all the attention we’re getting, positive and negative alike,
While the Boomers laugh at you living up to your long-spun stereotype:
Unambitious and whiny in the face of a daunting world,
Unable to cope with change like us “spoiled” “little boys and girls”
While your fellow Gen-Xers have let go of the angst you still bear
Like insecure children in the face of a world that no longer cares
To listen to the same old song you’ve sung since 199x.
Serves you right for not paying full attention to “Generation Next.”
It’s not our fault you’ve allowed your own potential to rot and rust,
So knock of the pseudo-badass schtick. You’re not impressing us.
In fact, you’re just embarrassing yourself with your childish act.
Grow up yourself and go away, and please never come back.

No way! You’ve taken everything from us, and now I’m here
To take it back on my gen’s behalf so that we can have some cheer.
If by “everything” you mean your tacky humor, you can have it,
But as for our war against bigotry, we’ll fight it as we see fit.
How? Via “social justice” like what you’ve been spewing out as of late?
No. By rising above your example and not spreading hate.
Please! You’re just as bad as we are when it comes to showing class.
Cut out the sanctimony, then, and blow it out your ass.
We could say the same to you with your fix on media past.
Stop rebooting that which we’ve seen already and give us new stuff that’ll last.
Otherwise, we’ll take over and do the job ourselves in that respect
Just like we’ve been trying to do with bullying—Which you haven’t fixed yet,
Not that you’ll ever fix it, though, for kids will always be mean.
Baby our kids if you must, but you’ll never change how things have been.
Well, not at the rate things are going, what with you being the brats you are,
But surely even you’ve seen how bullying’s escalated since the scar
Of a certain school shooting from ’99 that’s been immortalized.
How much further must things escalate? How many more kids must die
‘Til we realize how bad bullying’s become over the course of all these years?
It’s not just name-calling anymore. We’re talking full violence here…
But no–we’re just melodramatic, right? Self-entitled, too, to boot?
Just wrapped up in ourselves alone and all our precious loot?
Again, that’s only the degenerates amongst us you hear and see,
And should you ever step back to see the bigger picture, you’d surely see
That the more amongst us have been working towards the greater good,
Be it for the sake of the whole word or just our own neighborhoods.
Besides, if you further took the time to cast a look our way,
You’d see that we’re more like you than you’d care to admit in any way.
We’re trying to carve our own path in this oh-so-messy array
And are working just as hard as you to see to a brighter day.
The problem is it’s not always easy, especially with your kind
Constantly ragging on us for our faults when we’re trying to leave behind
The days when we were immature just as you were in your day,
So either kindly help us help the world move on, or stay out of our way.




Okay, look, if you’re being honest ‘bout helping the world move on,
I’ll consider working together with you to fix all that’s wrong.
I’ll even coax my fellow Xers to come and lend us a hand.
It’s just that I’m sick and tired of living in such a messed-up land.
All the violence, disease, and corruption ‘round us—will it ever stop?
Not if we keep bickering like we’ve been with each other, pops,
‘Cause every generation has its winners and its losers as well,
And while we all want the losers to buzz off and go to Hell,
We can’t always be so quick to damn the winners to Hell with them,
For sweeping generalizations weren’t worth even a damn back when
The Boomers were calling you lazy, self-absorbed, and bitter brats,
Nor when the Silent Generation was calling them indolent ass-hats.
I could go on, but you get the point ‘bout this cycle that needs to end.
Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Well…in that case, put ‘er there, friend.
We’ve got more in common than I’d thought and ought to work together,
And if either of our generations hopes to survive the nasty weather
That’s messed up this nation since the new century happened to be,
Then let’s both set aside our differences in the face of adversity.
I just hope we can clean up this mess before it’s too late.
Hey, even if we can’t, your support is something I appreciate.
In the meantime, let’s put our noses to the grindstone and prove
That our combined efforts are a force that’ll help this country move
In the right direction, come Hell or high water, for only teamwork can see
America return to its former glory for you, the next gen, and me.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Early March Weather

Early March Weather
March 9, 2018

March…
Fickle weather…
Snowing, raining, blowing…
Isn’t spring here yet?
Waiting, wondering, sighing…
Begone, winter!
Thaw!

*****

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