Hold My Beer Poem by David Welch

Some say that our people
will never, ever get along,
that skin is our ‘identity, '
that old, bigoted song.
Some must always be victims,
and others will oppress,
that groups A, B, C are awful,
but D, E, F are best.
I don't care much for that,
but one thing is clear,
taking home Shanise tonight,
so wingman, hold my beer.

Others cry technology
is destined to stagnate,
that another dark age
we should anticipate.
They say we don't innovate,
our minds are growing dim,
they rightly point out failures
enforced by government.
But I saw that private rocket fly,
brought me near to tears,
I'll get to space so kindly
shut up, and hold my beer.

Many of the academics
say that the glories past
can never be equaled,
and teach post-modern trash.
Disregard for story-tellers
is their latest theme,
thinking to find greatness
with no plot or strong leads.
That's what they're resigned to,
there are no more Shakespeares,
the creative mind smirks and
says, "Buddy, hold my beer."

Loud voices say religion
is unenlightened clap-trap,
then they cannot figure out
why more young men snap.
They say prayer is backwards,
a superstitious lie,
that is serves no purpose,
has outlived its time.
But the Big Man told me
to tell you loud and clear
that you should look to your soul,
and also, hold His beer.

All across this hard Earth
they say we are doomed,
our flaws are overwhelming,
the end if coming soon.
Trendy are the misanthropes,
be they green or ivory,
they celebrate failure,
rationalize misery.
Acting as if it's all done,
there are no more frontiers,
but human will doesn't quit,
step back, and hold my beer.