Tag: Poetry

Hear Me Out

WillLeave a comment

Once upon a time I made a mom pretty “darn” angry, and it wasn’t my mom for once and I can’t say that this poem helped any. Hear Me Out, well to be fair I don’t even talk to my own mother or many people in my everyday life and still, I try to explain.

Hear me here
I wish you were dear
My girlfriend, my lover, or even a friend
So where do I begin
This isn’t the place
Or is this a waste?

Hear me there
Do you care?
What I have to say
I listen every day
… Okay, okay I’ll shut up
You’ve had enough

Hear me now
Better yet how
Freaking blocked me
You’re not listening
Or buying
Am I lying?

Hear me in
Is that a sin?
These screams
My dreams
Aren’t real
But you feel

What I am
Is not a good man?
Which I never cop to
But a fool
For freedom
So read on
Or don’t
You probably won’t

Hear me out
What I’m about
Sex and drugs
Death and blood
But to clock
And knock
Let me explain
Know my name
Am I too loud?
Just hear me out

Six Dollar Clowns

WillLeave a comment

Only today because I mentioned it in my “How I Learned to Hate Beyoncé” lesson, did she even exist way back then, every generation talks about the music before but this was the job before… Hardee’s. Six Dollar Clowns hmm

Ha Ha, Oh boy
Or girl
Really the whole damn world
What will it be sir
Voices and noise

Laughing and snacking
Is it not enough?
Maybe I’m just not tough
It’s all just too much
My soul is cracking

They’re attacking
Employers yes
Employees a mess
Guests
My soul, shattering

It’s too much
The noise
No joy
Call me a scared little boy
As you serve and eat your mush

Wearing tin grins
Throwing away your trash
Blow it out your ass
And you wonder why I’m sad
Because in the end…

To shout out
I can only stand around
Be bound
Another one of you six dollar clowns
Early clock out

Six dollar clown
But I’m not happy
It’s maddening
Working for Hardee’s
A fool, a loser, a nothing, I wear a frown

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Dreaming Awake

WillLeave a comment

I usually don’t have nightmares when I’m sleeping but since I have been working it seems the days and the nights are beginning to blur and being awake is a nightmare. Dreaming Awake… I think I rather not dream at all anymore and yet I continue

Dreaming awake, sweet dreams really…
Can you hear, oh the time
It’s just like kneeling
How God denies
The very existence of my life
Doesn’t he make mistakes?
I know your lie
Dreaming awake

All that I’ve been feeling
You’re just as blind
Watching is like killing
Behind those closed blinds
Think you’re so divine
Like him a fake
As I try to drive
Dreaming awake

Screaming yet somehow I’m dealing
But me you’ll never find
Closed doors and jeering
Yeah I want to hide
Or just to cry
Everything I have take
Let me sign
Dreaming awake

Yet I fight
Won’t begin to pray
Just let me die
Dreaming Awake

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Grisly Load – A Process

WillLeave a comment

Life for want of a box; seems somewhat ironic that I am surrounded by boxes at work and no I don’t work at a funeral parlor; I work at hmm… Grisly Load – A Process… most days I empty boxes of crap and all I want to do is curl up in one and die.

The box awaits its grisly load
Should I be food for worms?
Or let it burn
A prince, no I’m a toad
Because I’m all alone
How I continue to turn
Will I never learn?
Can I never fold?

And end this ridiculous game
Take my cards
Break my heart
For I am too ashamed
To live within this box
I just want it to STOP!!!

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

With Life’s Sojourn

WillLeave a comment

What is the point of an existence to simply continue that existence, especially one as pathetic as mine? With Life’s Sojourn… how if anything I have been wanting to move towards death and I keep backing up as if that was my fault, which I know it is.

Starting to learn
I’ve always been cursed
With life’s sojourn

Backward I turn
So I’m never first
To win, I’m always spurned

Stopped dead sir
Not nursed
Is no one concerned?

As I go to earn
In this shell that’s so much worse
Yet doesn’t burn

Ashes to an urn
Another day on this earth
Can’t even “Grr”

Was it different, the way we were?
What am I even worth?
Starting to learn
With life’s sojourn

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Working Stiff

WillLeave a comment

Working myself to the bone… more like working while I’m shaking in my bones; I don’t just hate going to work but I’m afraid to. Working Stiff… I couldn’t be one of those zombies even if I wanted to be but that doesn’t stop me from dying inside.

Working Stiff
Think
What a jiff

All I have to give
Stinks
Take a good whiff

That’s me trying to live
And yet I blink
My dreams are nixed

This is not it
Kool-Aid to drink
Then I’d be fixed

But I drift
The missing link
I just don’t fit

Read my lips
Better yet my ink
Working Stiff
What a jiff

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Pupil Pushed

WillLeave a comment

Pupil pushed
Rolled into the skull
How I am bushed
This life a lull
Why bother a look
A word made dull

Blind to the kind
Was there ever such a thing?
So sublime
Look at me
And talk about kindness
Somewhere lost in the dark
Such is blindness
A breaking… that’s my heart

Blind in line
The back of someone’s head
When will it be my time?
I heard everything you said
Stay inside
No life to create
Outside
And so I wait

Blind to the time
The past I can’t forget
The future I can’t find
And what of the present
Today and tomorrow
What I have found
Sad hours follow
Tears threaten to drown

Blind in the divine
Can you see God?
Or only the blind
The mob
Leading the blind
Darkness mistook for light
Chained and tied
This isn’t right

Blind to what is mine
Which is nothing
So I don’t buy your lies
But to own something
To touch, to feel
If only to see
And I know it’s real
Yet I can’t even see me

So let my eyes roll
Be pushed to see lies
How am I to know?
I’m not the only one who’s blind

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Reputed Undisputed

WillLeave a comment

Back when I was finding myself or am I still trying and I pretty much hated Hardee’s at the time which is a long story, or a short one since I only worked there one day, anxiety can be Hell. Reputed Undisputed, as if anyone could see the real me

Am I still STANDING?
Never landing
Forgotten how to fly
Wonder why
Forever damned
I don’t understand
“Too stupid”
You said it

The CHARACTER I play
Who am I today?
A fool a coward
Scream it louder
And laugh hardy
Hardee’s
Because day one
Who I was

The VIEWS that are expressed here
I’ve been hearing for years
Anyone
And everyone
For once the world agrees
I’d fall to my knees
If God’s opinion
Wasn’t like his minions

By all ESTIMATIONS
I am mistaken
A mistake
That no one should make
Not a failure but a fail
Doomed to Hell
From what
No buts

A first IMPRESSION
I’m elected
The worst
Your curse
Not worth
My birth
And I can’t make a second one
So I don’t

And so my reputation
The thoughts of a nation
My life today, my repute
Why fight it; it is the truth

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Checkered Past

WillLeave a comment

Life shouldn’t be a game but who am I to make that call, if anything life should be more than mine, more than black and white, unless we were talking about women but I’m not anymore at least. Checkered Past, so my life was and still is

Jumped and thumped
Bumped and dumped
Across this board called life
Why must I fight

A game I don’t want to play
Anyway
But here I am today

With dreams to be king
Isn’t that the thing
A dream to win
I do but sin

And am made false
At such cost
Waiting for that final loss

Checked again and again
Where do I begin
To leave such a predicament
Confidence?

When I am surrounded
Astounded
Yet bounded

To head to the other side
Try and survive
This board
A want to be more

Than a drama queen
A king
I want to be…

Oh checkmate
I am far too late
Because of what is true
And what I was made into

That’s my ass
At last
My future is my Checkered Past

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Tail, Tale, Tell

WillLeave a comment

People don’t follow the heroes, they come to you, same as the villains, and I’m done following pretty girls of all different hair varieties and a pox on 99% of politicians. Tail, Tale, Tell, maybe, I’m still thinking about my anxiety maybe.

If it wasn’t Peter, playboy, potion
to the tune of number nine or Mambo No. 5
a cape in the sun
or that slow march towards oblivion
which is everywhere or chasing some tail
Wherever men choose to wallow
and fields must be kept fallow

for years under the notion
that in or to survive
They must run
jump or swim the Stygian
Like a hero in some fairytale
you expect for me to swallow
asking why can’t I be Apollo

riding in slow motion.
I’m going to see if I’m really alive
because you won’t be the one
So don’t be forgiving then
Even if there is no one to tell
The words may sound hollow
but never again will I follow

Who?

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