social commentary – Anton Martin Smith Writer

“The Ballad Of Low Self Esteem” (A Poem)

December 18, 2025December 18, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged life, Low Self Esteem, mental-health, People, personal-development, Poetry, Self Esteem, Self-Analysis, self-improvement, social commentary, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Their was once a land far far away,

Full of people with gnarled, wrinkly faces – even the young.

A land of ‘downward trending’ smiles & lost tempers.

It was a sad place – for it never learnt how to do anything.

This was because the peoplesfolk had abjectly low self-esteem.

You couldn’t tell them anything, for they took it the wrong way – as a sleight.

Slowly they became more backward than they were the year before, & the year before that.

Some wag once said a very funny comment when pressed on the problem of the matter:

“Why would we change – for if we continue to be move backwards,

Eventually the worst that will happen is we will return to our starting point”.

Another one said:

“Sure we have low self esteem, nothing works, crimes up & our economies in the dustbin BUT”

And I said “But what” then they said

“But…But…imagine if we had too high self esteem – that would be worse as a society”.

I said “why is that”, to which they replied

“Well then we’ll get in over our heads won’t we” they said.

Then I said “what about the saying better to try & fail than never try at all”?

Flustered they then looked at their phone nervousy & said:

“No Sir it is better to not try at all & in the future tell of your wimpery to another wimp”

“Why’s that” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Misery love company’ “?

“Yes I have” I said.

“Well I’d be too lonely if I was a go getter – I’ll stay miserable with lots of friends thanks”.

The weird thing is that after they said this, it was the most confidant I’d ever seen them look.

As they walked away with a swagger, I made a mental note to make sure I leave this town tomorrow.

They are all far to comfortable with their entrenched culture of low self-esteem.

After all – it is almost certainly just another undiscovered form of insanity.

Even if it is indeed as comfortable as they made out.

And I wonder if I’ll actually ever leave.

Perhaps I am one of them, & simply deluding myself to the contrary.

Sadly, this is not the first time I have wondered about this, & it won’t be the last.

This was ‘the ballad of low-self esteem’.

Out now, never-ending, & everywhere you look.

“If The Results Are Good” (A prose Poem)

December 11, 2025December 12, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Blow-Ups, Books, coffee, Customer Service, fiction, Flat White, Hot Chocolate, Humour, life, Poems, slice of life, social commentary, The Human Condition, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

A Gas-station coffee run it is.

“I’d like a flat white please”, I request.

“Do you wan’t sugar?”, she queries.

“No honey”, I say cheerily.

“If you keep talking like that you’ll get it served in your face!”

She is serious.

Her face is contorted, pained.

She’s in her 50s she has grey dreadlocked hair, a face lined by a share of hard times.

Up until that moment our customer to customer service relations had been friendly enough, perfunctory.

Aiming to quickly diffuse the moment I apologize.

“Oh sorry I didn’t mean anything by that, I didn’t mean to offend…I must be getting old”.

It seemingly half works – after all scolding hot coffee has not hit my face, has it not?

“Would you like a marshmallow?” She says in a as-per-standard-question way.

“No thanks” I say, wondering why she is offering marshmallows for a flat white.

She finishes & hands the coffee over.

I matter-of-factly pay, & leave to my awaiting vehicle which with my ‘ troublesome coffee’ in hand.

As I drive away wearing sunglasses, I glance in to see the counter area.

I’m ascertaining the body language after the unsavory event.

The other staff member that had witnessed it all is looking at me black faced – I take that as a minor win.

The one who served me is obscured.

As I post-mortum the situation – my internal narrative is of two strands:

One is self serving:

“Geez some people can’t control their emotions at all, why no sense of humor – especially in that role”

The other is of a negative bent:

“Oh no you’ve put your foot in it again – why did you say that you fool – ‘no honey’…Geez!“.

As I drive away to my home, I take a sip of the “troublesome coffee”.

I now know why she offered a marshmallow after I ordered.

The sweet taste is sickening.

It is very much a hot chocolate, & not a flat white.

So she has either intentionally or unintentionally punished me on the spot.

I do half a u-turn & then I think better of it & abandon the u-turn.

I’m again driving home.

I’m feeling a little mentally deflated about it all – not that it’s a big deal or anything.

When I enter my driveway I park & disembark & I suddenly perk up a notch.

“Ah…This is good writing material!” I have suddenly realized.

“Thank god I took up writing!” I say to myself with relief.

Writing really has added so many silver linings to the blackest of social thunderclouds that abound.

Of course the worry about this phenomena is that you will create drama in order to write about it.

I wonder – Am I already do this without knowing it?

the problem is of course. as they say – an old chestnut – but is it good or bad?

Well, I cannot categorically answer that – as the answer embodies a conflict of interest.

But as an imperfect, rough & contaminated answer I will say this:

If the results are good…

“Soldiers Of The Abyss (& how to best survive them)” (A Poem)

December 10, 2025December 10, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged life, People, social commentary, The Everyman, The Social Condition, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

They’ve only ever followed orders – poorly so – in life’s institutions.

At School they were mediocre,

At the office they forced you do all their work,

While you slowly burnt out,

Punished for your ‘Voluntary Pseudo-Parentalism’.

They hate you because you helped them.

They must always ‘bite the hand that feeds’.

They hate that you can create – something impossible for them,

For they have ventured so far down into the abyss of ‘the banality zone’.

They could be 23, 38, 53 or about to retire at 64 –

It doesn’t matter because they cannot emotionally mature.

They the denizens of 21st Century offices everywhere are time warped.

They are the inner city everyman, whose ancestors were exactly the same through the ages.

They are the personification of the adage ‘No good deed goes unpunished’.

And you can’t escape them.

They are around you by design.

They’re there to drag you down to their level –

They are ‘The boring, The Mean, The stupid & Uncreative’.

They are your punishment for living, for not being born to the right bloodline.

In there own minds they are ‘cool’ – & definitely to good for you.

For they do not see the wealth evidence to the contrary –

Ignorance is bliss & it fuels their ‘backward cognitive dissonance-land’.

Where all that is good must be bad,

Whereby anyone emanating anything good, original, or interesting is to be marked as ‘the enemy’.

This the everyman in the urban wastelands that about everywhere.

They are your curse.

Befriend them at your peril.

Unfortunately you must learn this the hard way.

With age you will learn to keep them at arms length,

To varying degrees of success.

They do not give up on their prey easily.

And if you’re not on your game, in your quest to combat them –

You might end up becoming one of them yourself.

Which incidentaly – they will not like either.

For they are so perfectly debased – that they also hate their fellow ‘soldiers of the abyss’.

And p.s. – becoming a total recluse is no solution.

You can only carry your wound-full arrows as a badge of honor.

You must at all costs remain you.

For surely that is all you really truly have.

I repeat:

Always beware the ‘soldiers of the abyss’.

They are everywhere.

And remember – there is one ultimate enlightening Truth

True Darkness will not and cannot prevail over all that is Good.

“Bells, Burgers, & Language Instruction ” (A Prose Poem)

November 27, 2025November 27, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Burgers, fiction, food, Humour, Language, Poems, slice of life, social commentary, travel, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith

It’s midday.

“Shall we get pies or burgers” I say to my elderly mother.

The usual ‘bought lunch’ is a ‘chicken & mushroom’ pie for mum,

And a ‘Mince & Cheese variant for me from the ‘servo’ –

along with other incendiary items:

Classic Big Orange Drink that comes housed in a Plastic 2L ‘Milk Container’.

One Coffee for me either in a can or barista – depending on the weather.

“Yes let’s go for burgers” she says with a half energetic thought.

So the good but not really good servo pies are out today.

In my car I go.

I go to the asian eatery – where I have become a novelty.

This is because I like to engage with the staff – who are of various levels of ‘broken english’.

So Burgers now ordered, haggle over a ‘cash price’ done & negotiated.

While waiting I talk to the ‘most broken english’ staff member – the husband of the best talker.

He reminds me of the kind of foreigner that is working too hard to be able to learn the language.

This is not a criticism – just an observation – for we westerners are glib at how hard it is for a ‘far flunger’.

But this time he is keen for an ‘impromptu lesson’.

I see a ruler on the counter – I pick it up & say slowly, demonstratively the word ‘ruler’.

Of course ‘r’s’ & ‘l’s’ are impossible to pronounce, & this word has a double does.

After the as expected bad pronuncial result – I chastise myself for choosing that prop.

I see the counter bell

I say again clearly, teacherly drawn out, demonstrably & repeatedly

“Bell”….”Bell”…”Bell” as I finish it I rung the bell a little.

Before he has the chance to reply comes a disembodied from the back kitchen voice:

“I’M COMING”

We both laugh at this unintended consequence.

Isn’t it great? – the language of physical comedy needs no teacher.

The lesson ends as the now embodied voice comes in & hands over the burgers.

“There’s Extra beetroot for you” what a delight I think as I say my friendly goodbyes.

These little ‘slices of life’ are quite uplifting.

NB: I can report that at home the burgers were well received.

“Cafe Produced Warblings” (A Poem)

November 1, 2025November 1, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Books, Cafes, Coffeehouses, poem, Poems, Poet Laurette, Poetry, social commentary, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

I had just finished listing to the old ‘Poet Laurette’ and was on my way out.

A spare coffee was needed for the usual night’s work – that is, writing.

For sipping a coffee while trying to be original certainly helps matters.

< Digression: >

Isn’t a pity that we if being truthful now have to say “excuse me for my keyboard clacking awaits”,

Versus yesteryear’s romantic “Excuse me Sir/Madam my quill & parchment & fine hardwood desk awaits”.

Yes it is a pity, but I remind myself that it’s the writing that matters vs the input method.

< Digression Ends >

“What do you do” said the coffee girl.

“I do some Carpentry & Handyman-ing, but that’s only half my life…

….the other half is sitting in front of a computer at night – ya’know – writing”.

I wasn’t sure if she respected the arts, but I was tired of hiding today,

And with the new owners – the cafe was now becoming more of an arts hangout to.

“Oh”, she says.

it was hard to decipher if this was a “good oh” or a “bad oh” or a neutral “oh”.

As I left the cafe she says “have fun in front of your computer!”

It sounded a little like a “jab” but we types are touchy on such matters, aren’t we?

As I was literally half out the door I reposted (in good humour of course).

“You never know – I might write a poem about you“

The 70-something Poet Laurette who was sitting quietly at a table laughed as he overheard.

“I hope not” she said.

“That’s why they say ‘the pen is mightier than the sword'” I doubly retorted.

Again, the Poet Laurette chortled.

And as I walked home on that perfect sunny day, I thought to myself:

Ah these trips to the cafe are getting better & better.

They are even beginning to foment material.

Why is it always true that the life-sliced-words have a certain ring?

Because they’re the freshly filtered words emerging from the ground.

That’s why.

Long live the cafe-produced-warblings –

For much like ourselves, we would all miss them had they not been there.

Beards, Pitchforks, & Drays (A Prose Poem)

October 18, 2025October 23, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged AI, coca cola, dystopia, Poems, social commentary, technology, The Amish, The Future, Warnings of AILeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Some days I think of ‘Donkeys & Drays’.

& Not becasue I am a ‘freak’ – that is beside the point.

I am musing of the the many mega-foibles, of our medern technology

For The Amish were right,

They said no to the Model T,

& kept their horse & cart.

Once ridiculed as luddites,

They are now looking like geniuses.

For the biblical ‘apple of knowledge’ warning is true:

The idea that Tech will bring forward ‘Utopia’ is probably a sly illusion.

Now that we are about to be enslaved by smart robots,

We are starting to finally get it.

Yes, there will come a day when you trade in your ‘Tesla’ for a ‘Dray’.

You will pick the dray up from the Amish folk,

And The Tesla will be given to the ‘smart robots’ to drive away in.

But because you are wiser than most, you have moved early to become Amish-like.

It’s always wise to be an ‘early adopter’ anyway – is it not?.

For soon you will have no choice:

For while the catch cry of “technology is the future” was true once,

Long term – It was not true for us, it was true for them…the futures artificial beings.

Our future will be full of:

Ridiculously Long Beards,

Dowdy clothing,

Garden-grown food,

Rusty Old Pitchforks,

Campfire musings,

Donkeys, Horses, & Drays.

And we’ll be really surprised that for all of this – we’re all a lot more happier for it.

While pitchforking away the mountains of hay, we will turn to our ex-cubicle workmate & say:

“The Amish were right all along – I’m having a blast, why was I a cubicle-techno-sucker for so long?”.

To which your now long-bearded or long dressed ex-cubicle workmate will say:

“I totally agree, but I do miss coca-cola just a tad”.

To which you will reply by pointing & shouting.

“JUDAS!”,

While still privately thinking they are correct,

Within the privacy of you own mind…

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

“Life Is A Catch-22 Problem” (A Prose Poem)

August 7, 2025August 8, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Comedy, Counselors, fiction, Humour, life, Problems, Psychiatry, social commentary, writing2 Comments

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

The problem with being an intellectual, be it faux or otherwise,

Is that you can’t but help be trapped into negative thinking.

This is because ‘intellectuals’ want to understand ‘The World’,

Or should I say Need to understand The World –

And,

If you haven’t already noticed,

The world always but always, has a lot more problems than solutions.

This is why all in all, having ‘brains’ is far more of a curse than a blessing.

Yes – ‘The Garden of Eden’ orientation is correct:

Ignorance is (for all us distant dystopians) unfortunately – bliss.

Yes – ignorance of the unnecessary is natures ‘go to strategy’.

So – should we should ‘act dumb coz that’s natures leaning?’ – I hear you ask?

Well, that’s a tricky one – as ‘Nature’ is also often a beast in itself –

It will happily sacrifice the few for the good of the many –

With no tears shed.

Our indulgence in the unnecessary is why, by 2025, the only ‘true thing’ happening here on Earth is:

THE FABLED ‘CATCH 22’ Scenario – summed up with this dictum –

“You’re damned if you do & you’re damned if you don’t”

Now I could tell you the real solution to this – & forgive the vulgarity – this very “poopy sandwich” –

But then again, my latest money scamming psychiatrist has diagnosed me as ‘anally retentive’* –

And the prior souless shrink before that one also diagnosed me as ‘a narcissist’ –

And the one before that as a ‘compulsive liar’.

So I will respect their judgement –

So I’m not going to contradict those fine-living parasitic assholes, & tell you the answer to the aforementioned,

‘Life is a Catch 22 problem’.

But I will tell you what my suddenly retiring fourth-last-dodgy-money-grubbing-psychiatrist told me in my & his & my last session:

“You’re on your own buddy”**

With this casual undiagnosticly inclined in-passing phrase, he was inadvertently the only shrink ever who had ever told the truth, in the history of psychiatry.

And now my friends this prose must end unsatisfactorily –

But luckily, as always the only one who suffers is the reader/listener –

I the writer will scoot by the seat of my pants as always, & end up reaching for a well chilled beer from the fridge.

& Amen to that!

*This topic of anal retentiveness makes my mind wander – I wonder if it’s acceptable for a plumber to speculate on a customer’s bowel motions?

**This line should be said in a weird American accent.

P.s. I apologise for this bastardry, so badly disguised as a poem. All those cranks I’ve been seeing must be rubbing off on me. But I guess I should take that as a compliment.