Lesson 263 ~Every Sweet Refrain Repeats~

How often do I go to work without my headphones, why do I fight so hard when the stereo in my car is acting up, there’s plenty to hear, and plenty I wish I could just turn off, but those things are from music. “Every Sweet Refrain Repeats.”

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Lesson 263 ~Every Sweet Refrain Repeats~

Forgive Me Echo,
I Am Not Fine Today, no matter what my favorite song tells me and that’s not a crime is it, to be in love with a song, in this case being “Easy Street,” such sweet torture for other people that is. There are some songs that you can’t get out of your head and then there are others that are just asking for a power drill to the temple; no worries though, didn’t you ever wonder why I named you Inspector Echo?

Now I’m not talking about songs like “Pjanoo (Club Mix),” did you think something like that would make me ashamed, hell the only problem with that is I don’t need another gay guy hitting on me. How easy was that to say, music speaks and I listen and when it comes to actual people trying to talk to me… perhaps that is another sin for today; I don’t want to listen to people and talk about being picky, to paraphrase Much Ado About Nothing “God match me with a good singer!” To think this was once my greatest sin the belief that I was ever a good singer I sang in the church choir I screwed up verses, I sang with the kids instead of my age bracket when I was a teen. I stayed an alto for far too long and dare I sing now, just because I want too maybe, shall I try?

How about my hatred of music, now that Inspector Echo, is indeed a crime but as they say hate is easily a teaching tool often. So I have my father to thank on behalf of my mother, and for once I wasn’t profiteering, but “No Charge” from Shirley Caesar was playing and let’s just say I despised that woman until U Name It. Speaking of women, I despise; another song that makes me truly ashamed is “Something Just Like This” every time I hear it the word “skeevy” echoes in my mind and to add insult to injury “Oops (Oh My)” and that’s because I was just that. Now “Sexy” from Peter Cincotti was in the movie Straight A’s To XXX and is this only song on this list that doesn’t make me cringe, but it gives me deliciously devilish, dirty, depraved desires for Haley Pullos and other pretty ladies.

So will you forgive me Inspector Echo for using music as a crutch, for using it to torture and be tortured, for my pain and shame, for my hatred of it, for the memories, and that there is so much more but as the song goes Every Sweet Refrain Repeats.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 249 ~Top Shelf, In Drawers~

It beats watching the idiot box, reading over writing, and better still to be living but wherever id I learn to do that; if you are what you eat, are you what you read as well, as R. Kelly put it, I’m a “Bad Man.” Top Shelf, In Drawers

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Lesson 249 ~Top Shelf, In Drawers~

Forgive Me Echo,
I Am Not Afraid Anymore, humiliated, ashamed, highly questionable maybe only that’s the thing about the internet, dare I call it eternal, as an Egyptian pharaoh said, “So let it be written. So let it be done.” Does that make me scarier than most men or are women not that capable; is there another apology needed; what I mean is, I’ve read plenty of dark erotica, the darker, the better and they say I’m someone who could do these horrors, what do you think, am I able?

Is this a conversation better suited towards Dirty Diana or Lady Sophia; I’ll attend to my actual sins soon enough, but I was thinking about E. L. James who wrote Fifty Shades, and they don’t call her evil, they think she’s an idiot. I recently looked up a former book “Domination & Submission: The BDSM Relationship Handbook” and found out the author went to jail; hell I still gave the book three stars. How about Roosh V, besides being hated by a multitude of women, and being a blatant racist, I read two of his books too; what about all the dark fiction as well, on my Kindle and phone.

Now for my crimes, one I consider myself a writer and I have written some pretty disturbing things, my fiction, my inspirations, lately my comments and while I’m no damn good, I’m not a criminal but join the chorus… wait. They say don’t judge a book by its cover, and while some of these titles have tastefully clad women, the majority have shirtless men and let’s not forget the two I read that were gay and one which was more an orgy, thanks, Kit Rocha. To be perfectly honest I’m more embarrassed with the self-help titles and “The Manual: What Women Want and How to Give It to Them” which I consider the Bible somewhat and even had the nerve to read at work too.

So why bring all this up today, maybe because it’s the stuff I don’t write. Personally, I don’t own any leather, but I have a closet of outfits, I am not the bad guy, but I was thinking about the things I would say to a woman. If anything I must be forgiven Inspector Echo because I do not wish to play Cyrano de Bergerac any longer, I don’t plan on writing a love story, if I am a dominant, I’ll “Dom” my way, but my words are already on some top shelf, in drawers.

I Will Have No Fear

Some People, NOT Me

Do I still question how they see me; to be honest they barely do anymore except the occasional text to see that I’m still above ground, still they’re dirty little secret, even from myself nowadays. “Some People, NOT Me”, I’m my own worse critic.

Some people… more than one
Laugh and fear and hate… me
For fun?
My crime is making a “we”
When I’m they’re son
Not the whole world, see

Just some people… not just a few
Over twenty-seven years
Make it their mission for me to lose
The cause of all my tears
Should have been born blue
Maybe I wouldn’t get the sneers

Of some people… more than a dozen
Flesh and blood, a “family”
Mommy, Daddy, Sister, Cousin
Don’t make me happy
Brothers, sisters, all the others
Skin like theirs… no one like me

Because of some people… not most
Look at me, like a diseased rat
Make me doubt, so I don’t know
And tear me down with their attacks
Hate my birth and make me want to go
Not Muslims, Republicans, I’m talking at

But some people… and not the whole damn world
Those from royalty, to slavery, to today, and me
Ashamed and filled with hate for sure
And why shouldn’t I be
Say I’m worthless and I’m no good
The man in the mirror, that I see

Some people won’t understand
They and I are enemies
Dare I say, “I AM A MAN”?
Who is it that cannot see?
My character they cannot stand
And who am I supposed to be
“You people” won’t understand
Some People, NOT Me

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

 

Grisly Load – A Process

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.