Selective complaining

Take a bullet in the face and walk away fine,

Saving and loading when playing offline,

NPC’s standing in their shops all day,

Heroes that never have anything to say.

“I don’t see a thing to complain on this list,

When I play, these things don’t make me pissed,

But sound in space and I’m outraged!

The hero’s too old, she should be teenaged!

That’s totally not how afterburners work!

The detail’s all wrong, it’s a dagger, not a dirk!

Game devs are dumb, dumb or just asses

They should take some physics and history classes!”

Fans discussing games is often like this,

Selective complaining, a communal hiss.

I don’t find it fun, but I hope they do

Otherwise it’s a useless indignation stew.

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Wooden valentine’s heart

This valentine’s heart is made with love,

A chainsaw, axe, and loads of sweat.

The wood felt the same as I do with you,

Cold metal teeth biting, imminent threat.

As I worked, my mind was on your beauty,

And what to make for dinner, lentils or beans.

I hoped it would please you dearly, my love,

I don’t want to buy something beyond my means.

I hope you place it on the shelf as it deserves,

So I have an edge whenever we fight.

My wooden head like this heart can’t know,

But in my heart I know this is right.

Hungry tummy

My stomach is eating me up inside.

It was so very hungry, it rumbled and cried.

Now it’s nibbling on my ribs

Gnaws, chomps and nibs.

I could ask it to stop,

But I think it would be a flop.

I know how I am when I am starving

No listening to reason, just thinking of carving

Me a big piece of the nearest pie,

So I’ll not interfere, it won’t do to try.

Maybe my ribs will be just enough

So my belly won’t eat away my bones and stuff,

And, if it does, then let’s hope

That non-vital organs are in its scope.

Hell’s Angel therapy

The lumberjack song was playing on repeat in my head. I had to do something about it, which in this case means changing the lyrics to suit a word play that my friend made: Hell’s Angel therapy.

 

I was feeling a bit down of late

Due to the self-doubt gnome’s rare breeding rate.

I could not sleep, I could not run,

I could not crack smile.

My good friend told me to have fun:

Hell’s Angel therapy for a while!

 

I was learning how to ride them bikes,

How to dress in leather with too many spikes.

I did some drugs, and sold them too,

Assaulted people with primal style.

I learned not to worry,

But put the road behind me by the mile.

 

Six months of therapy have gone and passed,

I can’t believe the number of friends I’ve amassed.

I killed some too, as they crossed the line,

But that was in the past.

Now I’ll live my life like a normie

And hope that it will last.

I’ll live my life like a normieeeeee,

And hope that it will last!

Online stupidity

Three things that I often see in online discussions, all of which have an inherent flaw in the reasoning and thus aggravate my logic-gland. To be fair, this gland becomes very aggravated by pretty much anything online, not just these three things.

 

… and then she said she likes me as a friend!”

Oh you poor thing, did your life end?

You were nice to a person in hopes for sex?

And it didn’t happen, so now you’re perplexed?

Nice is the default, you sack of stupid!

Not for forcing the arrow of cupid.

But now you’re hurt and lie to yourself

“It’s her fault, I’m perfect, like a beautiful elf!”

Lying about your feelings and your intention,

Is dicky, to be fair, dicky. Pay attention!

 

… asking for it with the way she was dressed.”

The idiocy of this statement has me slightly impressed.

By the same logic, if you see someone

Wearing boxing shorts when going for a run

Means you can punch them out of the blue

And, although they can always sue,

“They had it coming, wearing what they did.

If you’re not ready to be punched, wear other pants kid.”

 

… is fake, but what I found, it just has to be real.”

Really? The other proof is cotton, yours is steel?

Just with the virtue of agreeing with your bias,

Its validity is raised higher than the Himalayas?

Maybe you should, for once in your life,

Be critical to things said during times of strife

By the people in your team as well? Eh? Maybe?

Not just nod and coo like an overgrown baby.

This might even *GASP* lead to a rational talk.

But that requires thinking, no wonder you balk.

Autumn is here

Autumn comes soon

Singing the tune

Of the sharp scent of a hoarfrost moon.

Darkness comes too

The nights we knew

Become black and cold with stars in vies.

Rain comes as well

I retreat to my shell

Reading stories that my books tell.

Cozy is all

Under the shawl

I am the blanket’s faithful thrall.

Waking up is hard

When, out on the yard,

The patter of rain is the beauteous bard.

Autumn is here,

But I have no fear

As I stay inside for the rest of the year.

Maybe the worst hurt

It hurts when I stub my toe,

I might swear and blood might flow.

It hurts when someone calls me names

Not those ones like Jack or James.

It hurts most when I’m wrong,

When someone else’s reasoning’s strong.

When I think a thing objectively not true

I have to change and that tears me in two.

I feel stupid and reluctant to change,

Admitting my mistake does annoy and estrange.

Reading, talking, watching TV,

Can all lead to a more-annoyed-me.

I wish I learned to, instead of a pain,

Feel it in a different part of my brain.

Think that it’s fun when I’m proven wrong,

Just as fun as playing a new song.

I have a long way ahead of me, I know,

If I can’t learn this, I won’t grow.