Poem of the Week: I Don’t Know When

I Don’t Know When
May 31, 2017

Over and over and over again,
Fed the same old stuff since I don’t know when:

The same folks in the same spots as before…
When they’ll try something new, I don’t know when.

The same damn games they’d played four years ago…
When they’ll play diff’rent games, I don’t know when.

Not trusting the crowd to anticipate
The next scene ever since I don’t know when,

Using celebrities few care to see
Over their own cast since I don’t know when,

Starting and stopping each season midway
For no good reason since I don’t know when—

All these things and more ruining that which I
Used to love back then since I don’t know when

With no sign of change for better in sight,
Leaving things a mess since I don’t know when.

Guess what, though: Why should I sit here, complain,
And demand things change when I don’t know when

I’ll ever be heard and things will in fact
Change for the better when I don’t know when

Those who’ve come before me will have their words
Taken into account? I don’t know when.

Instead, then, I’ll just leave my TV off
Until things improve, though I don’t know when

That will be or even if it ever
Happens. It’s one big guess. I don’t know when,

But if the show finally gets cancelled,
Then oh well…bye-bye…though I don’t know when…

Or if the thing will at long last improve.
All I know’s I’ve left…and I do know when.

*****

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Bonus Poem of the Week: Uncertainty

Uncertainty
November 15, 2016

I feel uncertainty…
Uncertainty as black as the endless void of death…
Uncertainty when I think about my future in a violent, unstable nation…
Uncertainty full of deafening silence…
Uncertainty that wreaks of stale emptiness, mild flatulence, and body odor…
Uncertainty that tastes of dry, unfertile soil from a barren wasteland…
Uncertainty as a cold, moonless winter’s night.
I feel uncertainty…the true hell.

*****

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Poem of the Week: Post-Election 2016 America

Post-Election 2016 America
November 11, 2016

Election
Objection, rejection
Lamenting, protesting, rebelling
America divided against itself
Chanting, bickering, beating
Absurdity, insanity
Fear

*****

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Poem of the Week: Beggars Can’t Be Choosers

Beggars Can’t Be Choosers
September 26, 2016

They say beggars can’t be choosers, and sadly, I can’t debate,
For time and again, I’ve been in spots that I’ve come to hate—
Relationships I’ve walked out on, jobs I’ve quit in a blink—
All because I could feel the proverbial ship start to sink.
It’s a nightmare that I know too well time and time again,
And it doesn’t get better at all each night I endure it, friend.
In fact, the last of tribulations I’d gone through made me sick—
Literally, too, for even now, my nose keeps going drip, drip, drip,
And this headache I’ve got is still killing me, I can’t deny,
And hackhack-hacking on my own phlegm’s been making me want to die.
I can only imagine, though, just how much sicker I’d surely get
If I’d stuck around any longer and tried to make a sure bet
Out of the situation I’d been in that made me so bloody ill
At a time when I’m usually resilient to all but the foulest swill.
Thankfully, I’ll never find out, for I got out of things quickly,
And my family’s even more thankful that I didn’t get more sickly.
Still, I’m left to wonder how things would’ve turned out otherwise,
Had I stuck with my main plan and not let myself be cut down to size
By the circumstances I suffered in the setting I was in at the time.
Would I’ve come to resent sticking ‘round, or would things have worked out sublime?
I guess I’ll never know either way, seeing as I’ve long since gone
Forever to wonder exactly what it was I had done wrong
To not make my situation work, perhaps even for years.
Then again, sticking around may have more likely brewed other fears—
Fears that may have proven worse than what I’ve already endured,
Such as a deadening of my soul from wounds too deep to be cured
And a satisfaction with mediocrity that none should feel.
Thankfully, that’s not what turned up when I dared to spin Fate’s wheel.
The moral, then, I suppose one could say, is always keep your wits
And know what’s good for you and when your situation’s become the pits
And weigh your pros and cons carefully when you’re stuck knowing not what to do
Before the latter all come pouring down and flush your soul straight out of you.
Beggars can’t be choosers, after all, as the saying goes,
And before you find yourself trapped between anxiety and woe,
Know your options and what to expect , should you go one way or another,
For in the end, it’s one of at least two outcomes, sisters and brothers.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Three Days after Thanksgiving

Three Days after Thanksgiving
November 29, 2015

Three days after Thanksgiving with Christmas ‘round the bend,
But after that, I can only hope my personal nightmare ends,
For it’s no fun at Holiday time fearing what the future holds,
And I just hope that whatever awaits me is big, bright, and bold.

For years, I’ve been in limbo, one foot on a banana peel—
A squishy, slippery yellow skin pressed firmly ‘neath my heel—
While the other foot’s been dangling over Hell’s gaping maw,
A swirling red-and-black abyss line by two fang-laden jaws,

And for as long, I’ve stood there, perched oh so precariously,
With one ill-timed step either way meaning the end for me.
‘Twas a test of mental fortitude. That I can safely say,
And when it came to my survival, I could have sworn, “No way!”

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, for I’ve cheated damnation twice,
But I’ve no time to sigh with relief, for though said relief’s been nice,
I’m in the midst of my third trial, and as it has often been said,
Third time’s a charm, and it’s been “getting warm,” hence my dread.

Who knows if I’ll make it this time ‘round after all I’ve been through?
There’s only so much I can take, after all, and I fear my luck’s through.
Even if I play my cards right, I might find myself outplayed
Once and for all, and poof! There goes every last plan I’ve made.

So much for prosperity. So much for success.
So much for fame, fortune, and comfort, should I fail this test.
So much for becoming the financial backbone of my family.
So much for my loved ones finally relying upon me.

Such are the odds I face—purgatory or paradise—
And needless to say, between these two, the latter sounds all too nice,
For in reality, the likeliness of such a turn
Is next to nothing. Thus, I expect that in Hell I’ll burn.

There is a slight chance I’ve got, though, to turn the tables on Fate
And earn myself an outcome I can better appreciate.
It’ll take much time and effort on my behalf, I’ll admit,
But if said effort and time are all it’ll take, then screw it!

I’m sick of sitting here like a book collecting dust on my shelf.
I’m sick of weeping here in the dark, feeling sorry for myself—
Especially ‘round the Holidays when everyone else is merry
Wearing smiles even when faced with what even they can call scary.

Time and again, I’ve tried to grasp my one way ticket out
Of this hellish hole I’ve been tucked in, yet all my dreams flew south
For the winter like geese, leaving me begging, “Please! Get me out of here!
I can’t stay in this situation for another week, month, or year.

My future hasn’t even started they way others’ have in days past,
And if I stay any longer, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.”
Granted, I may have myself to blame in one regard or another,
But I’ll still do what it takes to redeem myself for Heaven, brother.

I don’t want to dread Christmas any more than I currently do,
Nor do I want to dread what lies beyond, be the day white or blue.
I wish to enjoy the Holidays like most everyone else,
But until I can, I must straighten out this situation with myself,

So please work with me this year, Fate, so that my dreams come true
And I’ll at last know prosperity, which will last my whole life through.
I know what sins I’ve caused to bring upon myself this curse,
And I’ll do what it takes to redeem myself, for better or worse.

All that I ask of you, Fate, is that you meet me halfway,
For I need your cooperation to see that I see a brighter day.
This life has been a nightmare for me, and one that must end.
I’m done with drama and wish to see a brighter day ‘round the bend.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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Bonus Poem of the Week: Sometimes

Welcome back, readers!

Well, unfortunately, Smashwords.com’s July Summer/Winter Sale ends today, but hopefully come the Holidays, Smashwords will have another sale for anyone who is interested in checking out the work of today’s independent authors. In the meantime, though, I know of just the way to conclude the month of July on this blog, and that is with a bonus “Poem of the Week” to satiate everyone’s appetite for future posts here at authordustinweber.wordpress.com until I finally finish editing UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment. Therefore, for a little change of pace from my regular style of poetry…here’s Sometimes. Enjoy!

*****

Sometimes

June 21, 2012

 

Sometimes…I just don’t feel like myself.

I just don’t feel like being one of the crowd.

I just don’t feel like doing what I know I should be doing.

 

Sometimes…I feel like being left alone

I feel like shutting out the world.

I feel like tuning out everyone and everything I can’t stand.

 

Sometimes…People really get on my nerves.

People really make me question what the world has come to.

People really make me question the existence of “common sense.”

 

Sometimes…I just don’t understand people.

I just don’t know why they say or do what they say or do.

I just don’t know why they don’t realize the wickedness or foolishness of their ways.

 

Sometimes…I wonder why I myself was ever like them.

I wonder why I was never as good at thinking for myself as I should’ve been.

I wonder how I ever could have allowed myself to think and act the way they do.

 

Sometimes…I can’t help but remember my past.

I can’t help but remember all the people I’ve hurt and all the people who’ve hurt me.

I can’t help but remember all the things I’ve done and said that have held me back from becoming who I was meant to be.

 

Sometimes…I can’t help but think how different things would’ve been for me.

I can’t help but wonder where I’d have been if I’d just had a better head on my shoulders.

I can’t help but drone on about how better off I’d be if I didn’t allow myself to become so inferior to what I was supposed to be.

 

Sometimes…I wish things had just been a little bit easier for me.

I wish I could remember the good more than far more than I do the bad.

I even wish I could forget my past altogether.

 

Sometimes…I wish I could go back in time.

I wish I could at least look back and understand why certain things happened to me.

I wish I could understand what I did wrong so that I can at the very least know what not to do ever again.

 

Sometimes…I wish I could make it all better.

I wish I could right the wrongs of my past.

I wish I could change what went on back then in hope that such changes would make the way things are now less of a waking nightmare.

 

Sometimes…I wish I understood myself more.

I wish I understood why I can’t let go of that which hurts me.

I wish I could try to move on from my past so that I can focus on the present and future.

 

Sometimes, folks…sometimes…

*****

Not my usual fare, I know, but I still hope it shows just how diverse I try to be with my poetry. Keep your fingers crossed for this coming Sunday, though, if any of you are looking for something a little more light-hearted or uplifting for my “Poem of the Week” segment. Otherwise, thank you for reading, and as always, folow me on Twitter @DustinMWeber and check out my author page at Smashwords.com to see what I have available–particularly when it comes to my most recent work, UWWX, which I still plan on releasing soon. Thank you all, and as always, happy reading!

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber