Lesson 134 ~Can You Count, Suckers~

Should I count on you or should I look as if you owe me, owe the future wife, perhaps the man I want to be, the somebody I believe will actually care about my novel only 12,700 of 50,000 *sigh*. Can You Count, Suckers, because I really don’t want to.

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Lesson 134 ~Can You Count, Suckers~

To Will:
No Fear, even though that sounded kind of dirty, but let’s focus on some accomplishments such as the fact that you actually have the entire, “Sick Fux” playlist on your phone. Already it’s going to be one of those days but you’re fifteen days into you know what and I know it’s only getting harder, really damn literally.

Think about your book today, didn’t I say be positive but you’re still so far behind but you only need 2,164 words per day to finish on time. You have now 120,000 words just collecting dust so making it to 50,000 words in a month shouldn’t be any big deal… yeah, I don’t buy that myself, using the words I believe in you and such. If anything you’re a realist and you know time is your enemy because sooner or later, everything is just going to come crashing down and I don’t want you thinking exit strategy anytime soon Will.

I know it sucks knowing that other people need you, what about the dog, and letting yourself down always hurts, though we can’t figure out why yet. No scratch that, you talk about being made into a monster but sometimes you are your own victim, case and point all of our conversations right? How about the people you haven’t even met, you should probably make a list of everyone who is going to owe you a favor but then again everyone isn’t you, how grateful are you for that tidbit?

Counting up would be “Hoes” while fun does not add to your final word total as of yet; counting money as well is just depressing, it’s like you’ve taken a trip back to Math class, English is hard too, and Sex-Ed class… off the table. There is only you and your writing, nothing more and nothing less because I’m counting on you, just as next week you’ll be counting on whoever you’ve become by then.

Hopefully, he’ll be a few words richer, a week’s worth stronger, possibly finishing reading another novel, feels like Mt. Everest and what is the payoff other than saying you were able to pull it off. I should have gotten this out of my system with Dirty Diana and Lady Sophia but I’m counting on you, time to be the man.

Way past time is always the lesson but if you really want to get up off your ass well ask yourself Can You Count, Suckers?

I Will Have No Fear

Yes My Ear

You never see the monster until there’s time to make the trip to that upper room but then again I’m probably going to Hell as often as I keep my head down. Yes My Ear, someone told me to play it by ear because to see what’s coming

I’m “Alive”!
Black or white, in living color, “Live!”
or so the heart appears
in the eyes, on the touch, in the beat of another
Always undercover
Ashamed, it remains unclear

if I am running or hiding
Do I have what it takes to keep surviving
Yes, my feet persevere
Only I can’t look down, I won’t look back
Because I don’t know if I could handle that
Whenever people come near

Am I a sheep
a lion, who’s roar I must keep
like any secret near and dear
Better to be a live chicken than a dead duck
Wanting to scream… what today I’m out of luck
as the fear

makes me into a Mime
I look at my watch thinking it’s time
To have a voice, like Shaka Zulu and his spear
So I have but a pen
with but to write every virtue and every sin
words that won’t disappear

Though if I were to write the future
there would be fewer
bombs, “Hurricanes”, Kamikazes here
And of Rocket 69?
Well I’m not blind
Suppose I should cheer

the fact I have not seen Elysium
entered Heaven at a premium
Oh to be like Katniss and volunteer
My tribute to courage, to live brave and best
Just say yes
Play it by ear

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


Nut Up

As Lenny Kravitz put it, I want to get away, I want to fly away, and if only I had the money, the sweet temptation, or the cojones just because it sounds better in Spanish? Nut Up, I am aware peanuts grow underground for those in the peanut gallery.

Here’s to growing up so nuts
that I believe I can fly
up, up and away like Superman
playing insane in the membrane
so I will not grieve

as autumn leaves,
flee the trees, and I ask, what
can’t you even say goodbye?
Still, I try and understand
even though it’s such a pain

that I take solace with Mary Jane
because who would want gravity
when all everybody asks is, what’s up?
The forbidden fruit, that’s a mile high
I might land,

fall, crash, will I ever be able to stand
another Pina Colada and being caught in the rain
or even the sun shining
hard enough, rich enough, am I tall enough
to talk to God in the sky.

What if he says why, why
with red eyes I planned
to dream, the impossible dream on this airplane
Well, I believe…
only the stewardess says but

sir, I’m all out of love

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