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.

 

Grave Vocabulary

Words hurt, words kill, on one hand, I’m not one for politics or religion, some words though do damage on a more personal level I suppose, sometimes I wish we were more like the people of Pontypool. Grave Vocabulary

And we all fall down

from the graduate to the class clown
What defines us, is the letters
which fair
no better when we put them together

to allow a king his crown
or any man to speak for God
Feel it coming in the air
tonight, every sin, how we are flawed

Not friend, not lover, or a victor, no noun
Enemy, fiancé, target, mutt
Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally, we’re all scared
But we shut up

when the new girl in town
wants us to believe
she’ll be the last beautiful girl, anywhere.
Please, please, please, it’s a disease

this vanity that somehow
people still ask why
hateful words are all we have to share
Do you think God is listening on high

until he can no longer grin and bear
because I’m already there

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