I Dreamt I Went to Heaven

I dreamt I went to Heaven,

and God reviewed the record,

of my days upon this Earth,

and of my past, so checkered.

As I stood there waiting,

Beside the pearly gates,

The Lord said, “Wow, your blog stats,

were really pretty great.

But your posts were mediocre,

Your Facebook page, third-rate.

Your LinkedIn was a shambles,

You never did updates.

Your YouTube vids were horrible,

(Though your grandchild is adorable)

Your e-books were deplorable,

Still, you begged readers to buy.

Your Pinterest board’s disorganized,

Your keywords weren’t optimized,

Your passwords all got compromised,

– “John Doe” will never fly.

So, I’m sorry we can’t take you,

Though I hope you won’t be bitter,

but we just don’t give out wings and harps,

to those who can’t use Twitter.”

The Ballad of Sid and Mary

 
 
One evening Sid and Mary,

Had a dreadful, nasty fight;

He called her a drunk and a skank and asked how

She could sleep with his childhood friend, Dwight.
 
 
 
And Mary told Sid she had done no such thing,

Though who’d blame her one bit if she did?

She hadn’t been touched in four solid months

And the fault lay squarely with Sid.
 
 
 
Sid said well maybe if Mary

Stopped scarfing down donuts and chips,

Then possibly he’d feel a sudden urge,

To put his hands back on her hips.
 
 
 
Then Mary said, “Sid you’re a total ass,

You care less about me than crappie or bass,

or boats or trucks or drinking beer–

You’ve got mommy issues, it’s perfectly clear.

Your bad taste in music just proves you’re a hick.

You can’t hold a job and you’re dumb as a brick.”
 
 
 
And Sid said, “Oh yeah? Well you’re loud and bipolar,

You’re needy and mean and a terrible bowler.

You smile at your friends, but then later talk trash

You’re petty and jealous, you’ve got a mustache.”
 
 
 
I couldn’t stop reading–I was just too engrossed,

They were broadcasting live via Facebook post!

It was all quite insane, it was simply absurd,

that I was made privy to such savage words.

I’d only met them twice at best,

(Sid “friended” me after a music fest).

But in their rage they shed all decorum,

And posted their fight in a public forum.
 
 
 
Strangers, acquaintances, family and friends,

Silently witnessed their vindictive end.

I was hoping they’d somehow patch things up,

(though I know that may sound strange),

but they settled their fight that terrible night,

with a simple status change.
 
 
 
Facebook complicates my life,

(It spurred me to write this bad poem),

I think of Sid’s truck and of Mary’s top lip,

And I hate it because I don’t know ‘em.

The Watch

What follows is the part of self-publishing I hate–promoting my latest work. For a while, I’ll post some little blurbs on Facebook, warble out a few tweets and post semi-apologetic paragraphs on this blog. Then, I’ll get frustrated and grumpy and abandon the whole thing because I’m so inept. I tried putting an excerpt on Goodreads yesterday, but finally gave up. I’m sorry if you heard me cussing. Anyway, I try to come up with non-pushy ways to let the world know when I’ve published something new. Ultimately, I hope to earn enough money to buy hair dye, to cover the gray hair I get when I try to format my work. It’s still hit or miss, but social media really turns me into a curmudgeon. Just ask Amadeus. Anyway, here goes:

My newest e-story is called, “The Watch.” It’s about a little girl named Angel Walker, an eleven-year-old whose parents have recently divorced. Her world’s quickly changing and she’s learning to maneuver. Her mother claims she’s trying to make a better life for them, and her way of going about it involves a search for a rich new husband. Her father’s a pill-popping playboy with a hair-trigger temper, who makes no bones about the fact that he has little interest in parenthood. Angel worships him, and prays that he’ll change. Lately, he’s given her reason to believe that he has.

A tale of family dysfunction, childhood resilience and trust, “The Watch” will transport you to another place and time, and Angel Walker will steal your heart. Don’t I sound confident? I really like this one, although I should warn you that it’s rather sad.

As part of my shameless self-promotion, I’m shamelessly copying and pasting some of the comments and reviews I’ve received so far.

“…this story is a highly polished gem…”

“What an amazing story! LOVED it!!!”

“I wept three times reading that story. It is a masterpiece.”

“…exquisitely written, each character completely believable and throbbing with life.”

“…poignant, meaty, truthful…”

Not one of those lovely words was written by a family member, nor did money change hands.

“The Watch” is available for the low, low price of $1.99 on Smashwords and at Amazon. My preferred site is Smashwords (because they take a smaller percentage of sales). I’ve published it under MB McQueen, in order to make my life more confusing. Actually, MB McQueen just seemed to fit this one better than Moonbeam. It’s a serious story, and initials are serious things. 

Thanks to all who’ve already sent me such wonderful, in-depth feedback, and to those who helped me purchase rights for the song used in the story. As always, I feel that you’re all a part of this process. If you feel the spirit, please spread the word. Post your reviews at Goodreads, Kindle and Smashwords. For the next week, I’ll gladly give a free copy in exchange for a review and a link on your blog (shoot me an email if you’re up for the task). Word of mouth is about all I’ve got to promote my work. Fortunately, I’ve got a very big mouth.