Poem of the Week: Rambling Poem about Originality Allegedly Being Dead

Rambling Poem about Originality Allegedly Being Dead
July 26, 2018

Is originality really dead, or did we just stop trying?
‘Cause it always seems there’s a reboot or another that leaves folks crying,
And even the new stuff that comes out we’ve somehow seen before,
And even the adaptations of other media has naught in store
When it comes to telling stories to audiences young and old,
Thus leaving us deliberately telling others what we’ve been told
When we were young, which in turn robs them of their identity
In that they’ve nothing to call their own while folks like you and me
Can reminisce o’er the “good ol’ days,” even when they weren’t that great.
Then again, at least we have something over which we can debate
While the youngsters are left to gush o’er that which they’re told is “new”
‘Til the day comes when they realize that the product doesn’t hold true
And the flaws at last become apparent in their grown-up sight,
Especially when compared to the original source day or night—
Namely the lack of spirit that the original once had
That gave it the spark it needed to thrive through times good and bad,
And if only said spirit can live on in what we create today,
We wouldn’t be sitting ‘round grumbling and mumbling all blessed day
‘Bout the past we knew and the tales we shared back before life turned bleak—
All the more reason for me to believe that maybe that which we seek
Is simple creative spirit—nothing more and nothing less
Than pure mental energy guided by the will to put out the best
Material one possibly can, whether it tells what we’ve been told
Or something new we haven’t seen yet that’s actually fresh and bold.
In short, maybe what we need to do is just start up from the ground
And write our stories organically in hopes that they look and sound
Remarkable enough to stand the test of time just like
The tales of yore we knew and loved when they first came down the pike.
After all, just how do you think such tales came to be
To entertain and educate the likes of you and me?
Maybe we should all take the hint, then, and try to start anew
In the hopes of forging that which we’ve been seeking: something new,
Even if it somehow happens to be old at the same time.
Either way, so long as the quality of the tale proves sublime
And every set piece works, that’s enough to make me smile
And satisfy my imagination at least for a little while.
Perhaps, then, something original will indeed one day come at last
And save us from this hole we’ve dug ourselves in, daughters and sons,
For only in learning from our past will our future be bright.
At any rate, ladies and gents, we can’t afford to give up this fight.

*****

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

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Poem of the Week: Boob Tube Poem 2018

Boob Tube Poem 2018
July 1, 2018

I saw a show once that was so bad that it made me want to cry.
The acting was so forced that it made a part of me inside die.
The writing, furthermore, was stilted from scene to bloody scene
From dialogue to characters’ acts, and it made me want to scream.
The camerawork was trash, too, as it missed important spots,
And the editing was over-the-top and nearly caused my brain to rot.
What could I do, then, other than tune out from this disgraceful tripe
And change the channel to something else about which I couldn’t gripe—
Something I could sink my teeth into and enjoy honestly
Without insulting my intellect or bringing me to insanity?
After all, with multiple channels to watch at the press of a button,
What excuse to I or anyone else have to be a punishment glutton?
That’s with regular TV alone, never mind cable or satellite
Or digital TV or streaming services to further make things right.
Of course, I can always turn off the ol’ boob tube if I choose
Rather than sit still and let myself cave in to the need for booze
To bleach my brain of the mental stains that the garbage on my screen
Is bound to leave, lest I do something in the first place to keep it clean
And go do something worthier of my time and hopefully hone my skills
In my quest to, in one way or another, squash society’s ills
Like write a poem or book or even a post on an SM account—
Anything to make a name for myself and make my message count
And help change the way society thinks of media these days
From TV and film to music and books, for someone must pave the way
For quality storytelling just like the world’s Jerry Springers
Have paved the way for smut and thus run media through a wringer,
And if no one else will take a stand, then by all means, I will
And do al I can to save the world from the careless, mindless swill
It’s been drowning in for decades, so look out, everyone,
As I screw in my heels and get to work sending trash on the run
And do my part to cease the cycle the business has been in.
Enough is enough of the lowbrow stuff! Time to purge all this sin!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

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
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Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

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
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Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

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
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*****

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
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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
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                         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
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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
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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 world 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
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