Poem of the Week: Holiday Fatigue

Holiday Fatigue
December 23, 2018

Christmas hasn’t come yet, yet I’m burned out.
All my stamina has been flushed away.
This isn’t what Christmas should be about.

Two days ‘fore Christmas, here I lie and pout,
Wond’ring how my energy went away.
Christmas hasn’t come yet, yet I’m burned out.

Usu’lly by now, I’m up and about
Taking care of things for the holiday.
This isn’t what Christmas should be about.

Alas, I’ve worked so hard to churn things out
That I’ve no energy with which to play.
Christmas hasn’t come yet, yet I’m burned out.

Now when it comes to enjoyment, I doubt
I’ll have any when things get underway.
This isn’t what Christmas should be about.

This season once was all I was about.
Now I’ve lost the drive to enjoy the day.
Christmas hasn’t come yet, yet I’m burned out.
This isn’t what Christmas should be about.

*****

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Poem of the Week: Laziness

Laziness
May 31, 2018

Laziness should never equal success.
Hard work should always reap people reward.
I’ll never respect others’ laziness.

Once upon a time, effort meant success
As the masses caught wind and jumped on board.
Laziness should never equal success.

In this decade, though, it ain’t ‘bout who’s best
When it comes to who struggles and who scores.
I’ll never respect others’ laziness.

Some folks get handed mountains of success
Without performing the simplest of chores.
Laziness should never equal success.

Others don’t get squat, even for their best,
Never to be known for what they’ve in store.
I’ll never respect others’ laziness.

It’s a nasty truth we all must digest—
One that sinks its fangs deep into our core.
Laziness should never equal success.
I’ll never respect others’ laziness.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

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
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Poem of the Week: Sometimes You’re Better Off Not Looking Back

Sometimes You’re Better Off Not Looking Back
October 7, 2017

Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.
The past has passed, and it should stay that way.
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

Something I once loved is now out of whack
Compared to how it was back in the day.
Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.

In fact, it’s long been that way, even back
When I chanced to revisit it one day.
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

The passion’s gone, for folks have naught but flack
For that which they still watch to this damn day.
Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.

Watching just to hate? That just sounds wrong, jack.
Lest you’ve hope, why give them the time of day?
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

All that said, guess what: I’m moving on, mack,
Lest what I’d loved improves in a big way.
Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Villanelle of Courage

Villanelle of Courage
March 19, 2017

I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve moaned enough groans and cried enough tears.
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

For too long, I’ve felt like a hapless whelp,
Always at the mercy of my own fear.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.

Facing things alone, few folks ‘round to help,
Nagging doubts always raging in my ears…
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

‘Tis the cruelest thing in my life I’ve felt.
Nowadays, though, I’ve grown sick of the jeers.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.

It’s about time I stood up for myself,
Took life by the horns, and conquered my fears.
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

After all, I alone can teach myself
To attain and keep that which I hold dear.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.
Time to store my self-pity on myself.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: Revision Blues

Revision Blues
November 22, 2016

The harder I work, the more I fall back.
Frustration only begins to describe things.
Any more might give me a heart attack.

Trying to sort out my plan of attack
On this project on which I’ve been working.
The harder I work, the more I fall back.

Otherwise, to square one I shall be back
For yet one more day on this stupid thing.
Any more might give me a heart attack.

I thought I’d had it done quite some time back,
Only to find faults in the wretched thing.
The harder I work, the more I fall back.

Each time I’ve tried to fix it, though, how whack
It turns out again! Such a wasted fling!
Any more might give me a heart attack.

Maybe I should just take one more step back
‘Fore I really lose it o’er this dumb thing.
The harder I work, the more I fall back.
Any more might give me a heart attack.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: One Man’s Rant about the World’s Fixation with Feminine Nudity in the 2010s

One Man’s Rant about the World’s Fixation with Feminine Nudity in the 2010s
November 2, 2016

Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.
So you’ve got a body. You’re no alone.
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

You want to prove you’re beautiful and fit?
You need not strip down almost to your bones.
Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.

Aren’t women more than bodies made to fit
What outfits—birthdays suits as well—they own?
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

What about brains and kindness? Don’t they fit
Into what someone “should” be on this stone?
Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.

You say you’re “free.” I can’t buy that one bit—
Not in the eyes, leastways, of horny drones.
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

Such “beauty” means squat if you’re just a twit
Or soulless, vain, and noxious to the bone.
Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

*****

 Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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