Poem of the Week: Early March Weather

Early March Weather
March 9, 2018

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


Author Pages: Smashwords.com


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

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

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 here 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

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

Poem of the Week: The Week Before Christmas

The Week Before Christmas
December 19, 2018

‘Tis the week before Christmas without snow on the ground.
I’ve looked all around, but nope—none I’ve found.
No chilly white fluff, just hard grey and brown
With tiny green spikes poking out all around.

To think, too, ‘tis December in Illinois,
Yet there’s no snow around to bring Christmas joy.
What a kick to the teeth for today’s boys and girls
Who’ll never know Christmas as it went in my world!

Back in those days, we’d have at least enough
Snow from which we made snowfolks, snow forts, and stuff;
Upon which we rode our sleds down this and that hill
And that we balled up and threw at each other ‘til

Our parents called for us to come on in from the cold
And have ourselves some soup with flavors rich and bold
And perhaps some hot chocolate as we hunkered down
‘Round the fireplace to listen to the joyous sounds

Of Christmas carols playing on the radio
As the lights all around us twinkled and glowed
With a subtle, supple glimmer that reminded us all
Of the time of year it was—not spring, summer, or fall,

But early winter, and Christmastime, too,
A time where kids could shake off the year’s blues
And enjoy life with friends and family,
Especially with so much to hear and see

As well as do for but a few weeks
‘Fore life elsewhen dares once again to sneak
Back upon us and reintroduce the mundane
‘Til another year passes, when we’d do it all again.

Granted, snow wasn’t the be-and-end-all
When it came to Christmastime great and small,
But it helped us get into a Christmassy mood—
A jolly, serene, and hopeful attitude—

And helped make the season feel all the better,
With or without the notoriously gaudy sweaters.
Heck, even a mere ten, fifteen years ago,
The Holidays felt more natural with snow.

Now, though, the ground’s barren of the chilly white fluff
As if Mother Nature Herself has had enough
Of keeping up with the seasons and stuff,
And by no means does it feel like any bluff.

‘Tis a crying shame, I will not lie,
For this Christmastime’s been passing me by
With a vengeance as I’ve been trying to sort out
So much else in my life that I can’t help but shout

Against the Fates for all I’ve been through,
And with no Christmas snow falling out of blue,
I’ve one less reason to have holiday cheer,
Making Christmas a non-thing for me this year,

Which hurts in that Christmas usually
Is a season that brings out the best in me
And helps me be the best person I can be
In one way or another, but now look at me:

I’m a crabby sad sack complaining about snow
Or the lack thereof it. What a way to go!
Surely there’s something better I can do
To set my mind straight again and see me through,

For truth be told, ladies, gents, boys, and girls,
“Green” Christmases aren’t the end of the world,
So long as one keeps strongly within one’s heart
The spirit of the season. That’s one way to start.

Sure, snow helps set the stage for the season,
But the absence of it alone is no reason
To not spend time with those you hold dear to you,
For only sharing can see you through—

Sharing the kindness, respect, and love
That Christ Himself, who now resides high above,
Had taught us all once upon a time
To have for all people during our time

And instill that same value in those we meet,
Regardless of season or where we chance to meet
Those to whom we pass on this life-long lesson
And share ‘round these times a holiday blessin’.

I guess on that note, then, I still have hope
In having a Merry Christmas even if the slopes
And valleys ‘round me aren’t smothered in white.
Knowing that, then, I can sleep at night

And focus what really matters ‘round this time:
Spending what I’ve left of this life of mine
With friends, family, and other loved ones dear
As per the tradition this time of year.

On that note, Christmas for me just might yet
Be saved, regardless of whether I forget
About how the snow might’ve made matters better,
For really, can I afford at all to be a fretter?

Therefore, snow, fall or not. Take your pick.
My Christmas will be fine, whether or not you’ll stick,
But a sincere thanks for the memories either way
Of when I was young and knew Christmas Day.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Thanksgiving’s Over

Thanksgiving’s Over
November 25, 2017

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


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Work in Progress

Work in Progress
October 29, 2017

We all strive for perfection. On that you can rely.
One thing remains, however, that none of us can deny:
Reality ain’t perfect, right down to humanity.
Knowing that, too, it can be a pain to be the best one can be.
Impossible is it for anyone to live and not make mistakes.
No matter one’s competence or intentions, life rarely gives us breaks.
Perseverance and wisdom, then, are paramount to success—
Resilience in adversity’s face when we’ve obstacles to address
On our own or with someone in our corner to help us along the way,
Growing with each step we take as we do each night and day,
Recording our successes and missteps, learning from what we do wrong,
Each time performing better at each task as we march along.
Such is the way we achieve our goals from the cradle to the grave.
Success, after all, befalls upon those who see forth that effort’s made.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Another Day for Writer’s Block

Another Day for Writer’s Block
October 10, 2017

Another day, week, month, year…
Another year flushed, I fear.
What am I doing?
Why am I screwing
Myself out of what I hold dear?

So many years put to waste
All ‘cause I failed to make haste
In following my dreams.
Now here I scream
As my brain melts into a paste.

It certainly helps me not,
For nary a rhyme I’ve got
For this rant of mine
At this very time.
Oy vey! What a time for brain rot!

Only mid-aged, and already I
Can feel my brain cells die.
What a drag and a joke
To be mentally broke
At this moment ‘neath Heaven’s blue sky.

Then again, that’s why I write.
It’s how I carry on my own fight
Against mental decay
During these dark days
When we’re all searching for the light.

I’ve always loved to create.
That’s one thing not up for debate.
Be it fiction or prose,
Writing cures my woes
In this world of despair and hate.

Writing gives me a holiday
From the crap of this age and day.
It gives me an escape
From the fools, creeps, and flakes
And all the crap they do and say.

When I write, I’m in control,
Creating characters with soul
To which one can relate
And appreciate
In my story throughout its whole.

It’s the thing I’ve got control of,
Hence why it’s the one thing I love,
And one can’t take away
How it makes my day
And fits like a custom-made glove.

Such is why others like to write,
For writing shows us the light
And allows us to be
All that we can be
And in turn make their cases right.

Such is what writing for us brings,
And I hope to make it the thing
One of these days
In one or another way
For me so tat I can sing

Happily ever after,
My voice ringing through the rafters,
Not only to claim
Fortune and fame,
But something else that I’m after:

The honor of leaving a mark
And a chance to lead folks from the dark
And into the light
To make things right.
That’s the prize for which this dog barks.

Alas, though, it comes without shock
That even I face writer’s block.
It’s a pain to work through,
I’m telling you,
But it’s a case I can’t help but mock,

For the one thing want most of all
Has led me smack into a wall.
I don’t mean to complain,
Either, ‘bout this pain,
For I know I must work through it all,

And work through it I shall,
For I ‘lone hold myself back, pal,
‘Til I fire myself up.
Then, all will know “what’s up,”
And prove my true worth I shall,

Be it one way or another.
There’ll be no stopping me, brother,
Once I get back on track
And clean up my act.
Once I do, I’ll take off like no other.

Just you wait and see there, jack,
For while you may see me as a hack,
I’ll get back on my feet
And scoff at defeat
For daring to give me and slack,

And my detractors, for their flack,
Will, too, understand I’m not whack
No matter how bizarre
My works to them are,
And their respect I’ll have, too, mack.

‘Tl then, here I am, brain in head
Rotting ‘way ‘til I end up dead,
‘Lest I get my rear
Finally in gear
And at last pout this block to bed,

For I alone hold the key
To seek what’s in store for me,
And once I start,
I know I’ll be a part
Of the system. Just you wait and see.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com