Bonus Poem of the Week: Self-Worth Rising

Self-Worth Rising
April 12, 2019

Confidence:
Success’s secret.
Standing, doing, delivering…
Progress for personal sake:
Daring, developing, evolving…
Self-worth
Rising.

*****

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

Advertisements

Poem of the Week: Happy 25th Anniversary, All That!

Happy 25th Anniversary, All That!
April 12, 2019

Happy twenty-fifth anniversary!
It’s been quite a ride, but your mark remains.
Thanks for all the delightful memories!

’94 on Nick, folks tuned in to see
Your comedic style—hip, fresh, and insane.
Happy twenty-fifth anniversary!

Many times I’ve wished I could only be
In your young, talented cast…ah, such pain!
Thanks for all the delightful memories!

Then again, your road wasn’t so easy,
As we’ve learned o’er the years, for you’ve had pains.
Happy twenty-fifth anniversary!

Backstage hell, troubled stars…all hard to see
In the wake of all the ardor you’ve gained.
Thanks for all the delightful memories!

Hopefully, then, 2019 will be
The year in which your star you’ll once more gain.
Happy twenty-fifth anniversary!
Thanks for all the delightful memories!

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Rant Against the Whole “Pro Wrestling’s Fake!” Argument

Rant Against the Whole “Pro Wrestling’s Fake!” Argument
April 4, 2019

“Wrestling’s fake as [BLEEPING] [BLEEP]!”Such is the paraphrase
That pro wrestling fans worldwide keep hearing day after blessed day
By critics who won’t let it go and feel an excuse to spout things off,
And frankly, when it comes to these small-minded brats, I just scoff
And pop back off with, “No duh, Sherlock! You just figure that out?
You just now realize what pro wrestling’s ultimately all about?”
Besides, aren’t movies and teledramas fake to some degree?
Yet people watch them day after day, year after year, constantly,
But no, we wrestling fans are the dopes for watching something that falls
Into similar territory with a “sports” flavor and all—
“Sports entertainment,” it’s known as, or “sports theater,” as I say.
We know it’s not meant to be real, but we watch it anyway
Just like soap opera fans watch soaps: It’s the drama that sells
Us on the story we tune into and why we find it so swell.
Add to that the action, predetermined though it may be—
The more realistic, the better, of course—and one can surely see
Just why we like pro wrestling as much as we do, chickadee…
So long as it’s well-mapped out, that is, like everything else on TV
And the talents who’ve earned our respect get the prestige they deserve
And the bookers stick to their guns and don’t dare try to swerve
Us by being cute and giving us something we never asked for.
Otherwise, we’ll stand up then, take our leave, and walk out the door.
We also won’t put up with, either, any more screaming, snot-nosed fools
Condemning ourselves for investing in that once which used to be cool
And, yes, is worked like any other form of drama known to humanity.
Spare us with your condescension, though, critics, and just let us be.
After all, do we bash you for liking, say, reality TV
With all its pretension and contrived nature cast upon you and me?
Do we slam you for wasting your hard-earned dough on X-rated crap
That exploits the women in it and makes you drool like trees leak sap?
No! I don’t think so. Please, then, know your role and shut your mouths
‘Fore my size thirteen kicks each of you square in the dirty white south.
You’re being nothing less than immature, irritating, and asinine
When you keep bringing in that tired old argument pain-in-the-neck of mine,
So get it out of here, for I at least am done hearing it from your kind.
Stick to your interests from now on while I kindly stick to mine, see?
I won’t stop loving pro wrestling ‘cause of your insecurities.
Take the hint, then, and find another way to get your precious kicks,
For I’ll hear no more of your argument, as it might as well hit the bricks.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: When Is the World Gonna Grow Up?

Dear Readers:

Usually, I try to wait until Saturday or Sunday to post my regular Poem of the Week. This time around, though, I couldn’t resist but post this particular composition today on account of my growing frustration with the state of the union, both on a large scale (i.e., liberals versus conservatives) and a small one (e.g., the “Fandom Menace” and various anti-FM Star Wars fans). Granted, I’ve no doubt that I’m just as guilty of adding fuel to this fire that has been burning in America’s belly throughout this trainwreck of a decade, and if I have, I apologize wholeheartedly and will do everything in my power to not succumb to such temptation from here on out. Rather than moan, groan, and carry on about my feelings in the rest of this forward, however, I’ll just shut up and let my poem speak for itself. Please feel free to pass it around to everyone you know and love, too, and repost it wherever you can so that the message spreads itself across the World Wide Web like wildfire. Sure, that’s me hoping against hope, but I seriously can’t be the only one who thinks this way or who wants the message of this piece to permeate the American—or, for that matter, the world’s—collective consciousness. All preaching aside, then, please enjoy!

Regards,
Dustin M. Weber

*****

When Is the World Gonna Grow Up?
April 3, 2019

When is the world gonna grow up? When will this nonsense stop?
When will all the fighting we’ve been doing with each other finally drop?
We’ve been at each other’s throats for so long that hatred’s all we know,
And all the venom that’s brewed between us has embittered us so.
I’ve forgotten how it all started, but I also fear how it’ll end
If we all don’t take the steps necessary to kill this nonsense, friend:
All the accusations we’ve slapped each other with over personal beliefs;
All the name-calling and other insults we’ve cut each other with so deep;
All the petty, obnoxious screaming matches we could’ve easily sidestepped;
All the lines we’ve drawn between us that have left us socially bereft;
All the ways we’ve torn ourselves and each other apart left, center, and right
Out of overreacting to each other’s differences each day and night.
It’s not just an Internet thing, either, although truth be told,
Many is the clash that happens there with personalities bold
All too easily misunderstanding each other’s words, spoken and typed,
Taking each other’s words out of context, emotions skewing things left and right.
Sadly, trolls also exist, lurking ‘neath pseudonyms and causing grief
For others for naught but their own sick, puerile entertainment, chief,
And I wish I could say that banding together to put these punks in their place
Would be the solution, but alas…such would cause but further disgrace
And thicken the tension between us, thus fueling the bastards’ fun
And making them stronger. Besides, ‘tis the mods who should make ‘em run
Back to the bridge from which they crawled beneath to harass the civilized,
Who in turn have been feuding with each other, forming bands on either side
Of the stress boiling between them over that which has driven them apart:
Religion, politics, pop culture fandom, or other values of the heart,
And on account of their disparities have branded the other side vile
With unabashed loathing and condescension, amongst various other bile.
It’s not just a month-and-gone thing, either, for actual, full-blown wars
Between nations’ armies have lasted shorter than these feuds between scores
Of people who despise each other over one key difference between them,
And if only they’d stop quarreling and meet at a peace table of sorts, then
Perhaps they can discuss the situation rationally with each other,
Come to an agreement, and hug it out like the sisters and brothers
They ultimately are, and from there, each remaining feud that exists
Can be resolved similarly, and from there, we can all spread the gist
Of solving problems through cooperation rather than slamming each other
Over distinctions, either great or small, like children sans fathers or mothers
To keep us in line with our opinions and agendas, which we’ve spouted
At each other every which way we can, only in the end to be outed.
I thus say again…when is the world gonna grow up? Tell me, please!
I’m so sick of all these squabbles bringing us all to our knees,
And if we don’t learn to work together, things will soon get only worse,
So let’s wake up, everyone, and squash these beefs before they squash us first.

*****

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

Bonus Poem of the Week: Self-Improvement in the Name of Love

Self-Improvement in the Name of Love
March 31, 2018

You can’t fully love others if you can’t first love yourself,
For there’s no guarantee you’ll receive love from anyone else
If you haven’t confidence in yourself to make any heart skip a beat,
Whether said heart belongs to one you’ve met online or on the street.
We’ve all limits binding us to our imperfect human core,
But we can’t let our flaws nail our spirits down to the floor.
We all must remember our strengths and to be the best we can be
By emphasizing those strengths for everyone to see
While acknowledging our weaknesses and doing whatever we can
To improve them so we each can grow as a woman or as a man—
All the better for others to love us, even if only for
The effort we put into improving ourselves from surface to core.
From there, all it takes is one look from one whom we admire
Witnessing us putting ourselves through self-imposed trials by fire
To see how worthy we are of that person’s respect and love
And once we win that person’s heart, we can thank the stars above
For the courage and strength to grow into stronger and greater folks,
For further improving ourselves as per the advice Fate spoke,
For nothing is worthier of love than one who seeks to become
Greater than what one already is beneath Heaven’s hot sun,
And hopefully with self-actualization comes admiration,
No matter our race, age, gender, religion, or social station.
We all deserve love, after all, save perhaps for our wickedest,
And in order to prove our worth of it, why not try to be our best?
It’s worth a shot, don’t you think, o ye with the broken heart?
If nothing else—for my money, leastways—it’s a good place to start.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: So…April Fools’ Day, Huh?


So…April Fools’ Day, Huh?

March 31, 2019

Pranks.
April Fools.
Plotting, planning, pranking…
Why April 1, exactly?
Wondering, asking, inquiring…
Just curious…
Anyone?

*****

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

*****

The image used in this post (c) WinCalendar.com. The poem included, however, is the author’s own.

Bonus Poem of the Week: Pseudo-Alpha: The Boy Who Cried Bigot

Pseudo-Alpha: The Boy Who Cried Bigot
March 25, 2019

You’re naught but a diseased little boy living in his own little world.
You spread your twaddle and talk tough, but your truth soon unfurls
When you jaw off with whomever has the gall to call you out
And shoot you down for your macho nonsense, which soon goes south.
You start arguments out of nowhere, your agenda well in place,
Going out of your way to humiliate others and disgrace
Them for the dumbest reasons, lying about their character
Just to satisfy your ego, you pathetic little cur!
Heaven forbid you wise up and take logic to heart
Without twisting it ‘round your finger from the very start.
Heaven forbid you admit defeat once truth slaps your face
When your lies have been debunked and you’ve no option left but to face
Your misdeeds in the mirror, all the insults you’ve brazenly hurled,
All the cursing you’ve used as a crutch once reality had unfurled,
All your poorly funded accusations that’ve fallen ‘part in the end,
All the defiant roundabout arguments you’ve relied upon, friend,
To get under the skin of many an infinitely better bloke
You’ve tried to tear down and defame with your classless jokes,
Baseless name-calling, and braindead labels, which don’t hold up
In any ground but that which is ‘neath your feet alone, hateful pup.
Face it, child: You’re done for, your foolishness fully exposed
For all the world to see, and now your parents must carry the load
Of burden for not raising you right, you infantile little chode.
Good riddance, then, and haste ye back to your current abode
To live the life of a troglodyte beneath their enlightened care
In hopes that they at last teach you the manners you need to share
And the wisdom to accompany them for when future debates arise,
Lest you long to once again have someone cut you down to size.

*****

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