Gospel 306 ~Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself~

The day after my son died, I traded a day of mourning for a morning at the Day Job. I gave up music to hear curses I’d level at a meathead jock asshole of an ASM. SIGH, I break “Rule 186” every day at the Day Job. Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself

Monday, May 3, 2021

Gospel 306 ~Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself~

Hundred And Eighty-Sixth Rule

Madame Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but would it be worth being a sell-out for this or that.

Not for Braxton’s life. I keep telling myself, I’m not moving into BARGAINING as of yet. People are too STUPID!!! My ANGER still rules but isn’t that one more way I have broken this rule. Take, for example, my Empathy for Apathy. No, worse, all I had left was ANGER. It’s the reason I hate the ASM and the Day Job so much. THEY remind me of killing my son by giving me the same weapon I did it with. I raged at them and, in turn, killed my boy, trying not to feel anything. When my tears threatened to wash away the blood… dammit. A meathead jock of an ASM had to fuck it all up for me. Now yes, Madam, I deserve Hell.

So with that being the case, I trade Hell for what, PRIDE? I won’t be leaving with that, I know. Um, listen to me, like I’ve been fired now. Yes, I’m back in the time machine because it’s Saturday, May 1. Last week was Hell, and this one isn’t shaping up at all. Friday, I felt a bit like Andy Dufresne in Shawshank, giving a bit of myself for my friend’s happiness. That’s a good way of putting it, Madam Justice. Andy Dufresne helped the other prisoners because he wanted to feel normal again. Indiana’s time has been shattering. If I were a God-fearing man, I would say I’m giving up silver and gold to pick up my cross. The smallest coffins are the heaviest.

How dare I right? Not only for saying that, but B III had a nice long life, but ask anyone with a furbaby. They will always be our children, and I let a fucking job try and destroy me. Braxton’s death has done that sure enough. Now all I have is that fucking Day Job. The Manager told me about my loyalty, and I would be willing to trade a decade of it for twenty days of hatred. It’s been seventy-two days since I met that bastard and ninety-two days now, so yes, twenty. Hell, I don’t even remember the man I was a ten-years prior. Only I’d trade the man I am now to be who I should have been for Braxton. Be Better… Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Gospel 299 ~Every Drop Of Blood Cost~

One can’t only care about the green. I hate someone, not because they’re any color but because they’re a terrible person. I’ve noticed my clothing is more colorful, missing beige and tan dog hair. Just me living my life. Every Drop Of Blood Cost

Monday, April 26, 2021

Gospel 299 ~Every Drop Of Blood Cost~

Hundred And Eighty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but the cost of blood does fluctuate. The fact remains it cost.

Why don’t I go all Bubba with it (ahem) “(blood) is the fruit of the (body).” Yeah, that might not make much sense. Little does going on what, eighty-five days without B III. Something else to be angry about. As always, it’s never at my son but myself and ASM. My how my blood has boiled, frozen, and continues to spill across the pages. Speaking of “Every day, every day, every day I write the book,” should we be chatting today? I continue to time travel as it’s Thursday, April 22, 2021. I’m not a prophet Madam Justice.
Now I’m not a historian either, but the thing is, neither future nor past look favorably on me. Tell me which cost more, Madam Justice, looking to my future or the past.

All I know is my hands are stained with blood that I cannot wipe away. Fifteen years and a month shy of sixteen. I wake up seeing red, and while the tears help, where are they now? Yes, I cried for Braxton today but still, when I get out of this bed… fuck such a feeling. As Drake put it, “They tryna take the wave from a nigga. Fuckin’ with the kid and pray for your nigga.” I can only speak for me, Madam Justice but from my tears to Braxton’s water bowl to the sweat and toil of the Day Job. Water… people demand such suffering; it’s human nature. Strange… not really that people want blood, aren’t I a person wishing to be judged for killing my B III.

I went from Paint It Black to Seeing Red. It’s one of the reasons I simply laid in the darkness after the Day Job. In the dark, I can imagine that Braxton is still here. His heart is still beating, the blood we have shed together because “we got enemies.” Braxton’s love. Madam Justice, I must never forget that. If he has gone to the Rainbow Bridge, the first color is red. What’s next, my “Orange Crush,” “Big Yellow Taxi,” “It’s Not Easy Being Green,” “Blue” (Angie Hart), “Mood Indigo,” “Violet” (Seal.) Took time to find those. Can you see why people choose red, blood, and dust? All I want is to find more of B’s hair than hating another black man. In some way, to see the Rainbow Connection.

Every Drop Of Blood Cost

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Log 322 ~Blood, Sweat, Tears, I Rather…~

How badly do I want “it,” well, how much time do I give these conversations? I’m always late because I’m doing “other” stuff and thangs. Still, how many days have I missed? Blood, Sweat, Tears, I Rather well um

Monday, May 18, 2020

Log 322 ~Blood, Sweat, Tears, I Rather…~

Hundred And Thirty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I WANT to say it’s because I’ve been ignoring what I WANT to do. Even my motivations are mixed in that regard. Either be a man that works his behind off or do what you love and never work a day in your life. I’m both to be sure, but one gets me paid, and the other doesn’t. I bleed, sweat, and cry, for a job I can’t stand, and everything else makes me feel as the song goes Hella Good. Here’s a question, at this moment, how am I feeling?

Ordinary, which means I’m afraid but less so. Indeed fearing to be real is far better than what others would make of me. Whether you know it or not, I’m bleeding with every word I write. It hurts, but at the same time, I find peace. There’s no rage to be had here, and yet people act as if I have struck a blow. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve said some, SIGH, STUPID things but the things others have made of me? To quote another song, he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus, and still as written in the Bible:

19: And He took the bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is My body, given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” 20: In the same way, after supper He took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is poured out for you.… (The Last Supper)

If I could tell you all the things that make me sweat, for example, daring to use the Bible. How about even going to look for that verse? Wouldn’t Christians call that satisfying work? I sweat at the Day Job, but every drop isn’t for the work; it’s for my escape. Now, if only I could use that for what I desire. It looks like I have plenty of time to work on Gulp, doesn’t it? No, I’ll be looking into more porn, won’t I? I was on the cusp of breaking last night, I swear Madam Justice. Such is my addiction, but I made it over a week now.

So you’re asking me why no happy tears? If I have any tears at all, it’s allergies. Sometimes Tony Baker makes me laugh plenty. I cry when there is something wrong with My Dæmon. I’m sure I talked about that last week. Sometimes I’m scared of closing my eyes because I’m tempted to fall right back to sleep. Again you know what keeps me up in more ways than one. If all I was revolved around that. For a good life, Madam Justice, it takes Blood, Sweat, Tears, I Rather…

I Will Have No Fear

Episode 033 ~End Justifies The Will~

Don’t do it, even when you see The End on the horizon; when you wake up at four in the morning and can’t touch the keys till 4:50, when I am a writer makes you feel for once in your life that you are somebody, don’t do it. End Justifies The Will

Friday, August 3, 2018

Episode 033 ~End Justifies The Will~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Give Me One Reason to feel bad, I know sometimes I can’t even stand myself, I can’t put it in a text, make excuses, god help me if I try to write it honestly somewhat, and only Spider-Man can get away with “I don’t feel so good.” When did the word “bad” become one of the hardest to put down in the English language, it’s damn near forbidden to feel it, so no wonder writing it takes a great amount of strength of “Will” as it were.

Being a writer, two words that have lost all meaning are “The End” when they should be two of the most rewarding, but everything is usually “To Be Continued” as the world continues to expand, evolve, and emote. Alliteration is another big word that I tend to do plenty and is usually frowned upon but it’s not the worst thing is it, like I always say, everything I want is impossible, immoral, illegal or insane. Would that include “Editing” which is like the aftermath of marrying the princess, you know they talk about happily ever after but I’m not that type of writer or a writer at all… Charles Bukowski.

I wrote a rule a few days ago “The Truest Sentence, An Excuse” because those come bursting out of me, I spent twenty minutes, maybe more, just trying to come up with the proper chapter title and then I asked myself do I still have the will to do this? There is the line in Tupac’s Ghetto Gospel where he says he goes blind and lets the lord do his thing and I’m still not religious mind you, but I wish I could blame somebody else, anyone else. If anything that is the point I want to make today, that I could blame somebody else for not wanting to write or for doing it but despite everything, there’s only me, and I feel bad because I’m not good enough truthfully.

“If I upset you don’t stress, never forget
That God isn’t finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes, I go blind and let the Lord do his thang” Ghetto Gospel, (Tupac, Elton)

I’m the one that woke up late and still spent two hours wanting to talk to you, the one that feels horrible about not posting a book review and yet excited to write a movie review and still too lazy to do it. With everything and according to Rule 158 “I’m Will, There’s A Way maybe that’s why imagining an end is so hard, a starving artist must stay as such which explains my not going to the store and only wanting to write more because and no disrespect to women ha but writing means bleeding, End Justifies The Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 163~How To Write, Just Bleed~

Nothing has ever come close to destroying me more than words have, and maybe these pages only serve as a reminder that the wound is there and then I rip them off and throw them in the trash. How To Write Just Bleed.

Monday, December 11. 2017

Lesson 163~How To Write, Just Bleed~

Tenth Rule Madam Justice,
No Fear, the first name on the list is mine own, the old story of the first word I ever wrote, my first victim who is me because maybe I knew what was coming, perhaps I wanted to do the world a favor. The thing is Madam Justice; I don’t die, people say that women talk too much, people also say “I don’t trust anything that bleeds for a week and doesn’t die” another shot at women, so what kind of man does that make me.

With my writing, I think it both hurts and helps me; most days especially like today I feel like dying, and then I expect my words actually to give me the life that I deserve. Sometimes I do use words to hurt other people, whether intentional or not another saying, about the pen to the sword, which I can believe. What about other people’s words, I thought about that bitch you know who and her words ripped into me, but I’m still here, every now and again I just have to pull the Band-Aid off.

The best art comes from suffering, of course, that’s just a personal opinion but some create such beauty and what do I make… if anything we just want to see it, the mess. Burn books, then burn people but nothing seems to quench the flames does it, so maybe that’s why I bleed more because I know I’m going to Hell. So why do I make Hell even bigger or perhaps I’m trying to drown myself, blood, sweat, tears, and yes Madam Justice cum too, it all hits the page.

Could it be as in Fight Club, that I want to destroy something beautiful and isn’t that something, there is so much beauty in the world, so it will take something hideous to be recognized by anyone. I know I am coming up with theory after theory, so I present you with another if this is my “suicide note,” relax Madam Justice something I heard from Fear The Walking Dead. Anyway, suicide is a solo act; some say a selfish one, so I hurt myself, I write not caring if anyone sees the outcome right?

Writing is why I continue down this road, the typing dead, the write one dead, one more thing, I write to remember and so that’s How To Write Just Bleed.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 135 ~It’s Worthy Of Your Soul~

How much is my soul worth, do I still have one available at all, am I too busy worrying about this life and what about the next… if I was a man of faith. It’s Worthy Of Your Soul, I don’t know what “it” is or where to find it, a tall order.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Lesson 135 ~It’s Worthy Of Your Soul~

Sixth Rule Madam Justice,
No Fear but the idea that I may not find whatever it is I’m searching for; can I give you thoughts or suggestions, sure but what do I feel? Sometimes, just like my heart, I don’t think I have a soul and if the Devil wanted it and I could name my price… well hmm?

To quote The Darkness “I believe in a thing called love” but I think even Faust made such a mistake am I right; I’m not even sure I believe in such a thing as soulmates, though I would like to. What about writing… the fact that I’m still holding back, with exception to my novel but with our conversations I still can’t just be me but then again what am I protecting, could it be a soul. Vengeance, of course, would seem to suggest that I don’t have a soul at all, thus how could I sell my soul for such satisfaction and we remember that rule do we not?

I actually wrote out a contract to Satan… don’t know how old I was but the only thing that stopped me was I abhor “my” bloodshed but trust me if it would work that would be another thing like having a button that could just end everything. There was also a time in my life where I believed the meaning of life was a song “seek out a kingdom worthy of your soul” but why seek something that I could create right? How about this, being the greedy son of a bitch I am, wanting well everything I suppose it’s up to me to decide what is worthy isn’t it?

I would never say that about my job but what wouldn’t I give for the little dog sleeping at my feet this moment. The fact that I went out for 5-hour ENERGY shots and Powerade, shows how much my writing means to me. The question is, what is a soul compared to a life, compared to a heart, or anything else in this world truly.

That’s the lesson though, the catch, maybe nothing is worthy and it’s our job to make it so that when we look back on all we have sacrificed we can see it as such. As a dominant wants a submissive, a writer and his story, I need to create, know, It’s Worthy Of Your Soul.

I Will Have No Fear

Vial Rage

Is it always fair to rage, I see fire and yet the heat it gives off threatens to burn me from the inside and whatever could douse it, sweat, blood, tears, ink, cannot extinguish such feelings. “Vial Rage”, I think I shall not rage

And I would call it a plague
how this fever infects
me, I sweat

summoning up the blood
which can never assuage
the disgust, the dirt, my name is mud.

Better though, tears for fears,
than this need to purge, to clear.
I lock the monster in its cage

the white walls of the page.
A mad world of ink,
kink, mystique, doublethink

Don’t rage, rage

Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.