Saga 353 ~I Am Different, Not Less~

I’m different? A joke… I’m dead, I’m deceased, and I’m dead. That last one? Some things we shouldn’t laugh at. Like the GOP laughs at Juneteenth. Or that I’m a black man that loves Necromancy and zombies. I still cry over B. I Am Different, Not Less.

Monday, June 19, 2023

Saga 353 ~I Am Different, Not Less~

Two-Hundred and Ninety-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. Ok. I’m not, but in either case, I shouldn’t be working today out of general principle. FREEDOM!!!

Today is JUNETEENTH! Well, at the moment, it’s Saturday, June 17, 2023. But you know. I have to time travel. With everything going on, but being a selfish prick? Inevitable? Madam, it’s a choice. And that’s something I took away from Braxton. Virgil, too perhaps? For once, it is V I’m thinking about. When I came upon today’s rule. I am different, not less. If that doesn’t encapsulate V being in this existence. He’s not my son, but he’s someone. A life worth saving… Yes, I’ll apply that to fur babies but not SOME people. But with Virgil, I remember Celia Flores from FTWD. S2.E7 Shiva “What you see is my son. Changed yes, but no less my son. My (Braxton).” Where was Virgil… Archie?

Give me some credit Madam; at least I saw if anything… God, I hate when people say these words. It’s just a dog —nevertheless, a life. I can’t call myself a Republican because how do they see POC, the LGBTQIA+ community, women, and I could go on, um, I think. Anyway, I’m the last person who should be talking about women. Considering, as the song goes, “All These Things That I’ve Done.” Um, I struggle to keep women… middle grounded. One day, angels, queens, and goddesses. And then in the next moment… Dirty talk? Please! I wish that’s all there was. Men were made from dirt, according to the Bible. To think that book written by “so many” with other words being less, worthless, banned…

I am a writer, or so I claim myself to be. And the things I write of… different, not less. Madam, am I less because I study “the dead?” Reincarnation, resurrection, and the reconstitution of what might be considered a life? Necromancy? I keep thinking of the song “From Now On” in the movie “Surf Ninjas. You got to dig down deep. If you want to wake the dead from their sleep. That’s how I feel. Like I’m out of “Warm Bodies.” I’ve long since given up Julie, and instead, I’m a corpse trying to dig up my friend, B. Madam, I ain’t alive. And I’m worse than most people. A black man, sadist, father to a dead fur baby… I Am Different, Not Less.

869 Days Without B III, Day 310 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 346 ~Travel Far Enough, Meet Yourself~

Even if I’m getting somewhere… Doubtful. It’s a circle. And what does that mean for poor Virgil? I can see myself in the mirror a hundred times and never like who I am. Am I sick, a sinner, or STUPID. “Travel Far Enough, Meet Yourself”

Monday, June 12, 2023

Saga 346 ~Travel Far Enough, Meet Yourself~

Two-Hundred and Ninety-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. And considering the selfishness, sin, and downright stupidity… I still can’t wait to meet me one day.

Because at the moment, that looks like that will be in Heaven. Or wherever B III has gone off to. As the song goes, “Because it’s not quite paradise. But it sure feels like home.” That was me and B. I’m starting to think he communicates through music every morning. What is he trying to tell me now? Can I even hear at all? Being honest. My bum ear, hmm. I should have paid more attention to those books on animal communication. And the afterlife. Only first, it was my grief. Then somewhere in the middle, there was the afterlife. And for better or worse. There is the possibility of Braxton’s resurrection. But his ashes? These days I am even more tempted to join him.

Only he wouldn’t want that. Right? If anything, I hope he’s fighting with me. Surviving. My boy lent me his strength when he lay dying. Madam, I want to. Tomorrow? Madam, I would have chosen yesterday, the day before. Hell! A week from now. Braxton? “Brotherhood, strength, and fortitude…in the face of the angry night.” That’s from the game “Resistance: Fall of Man.” So how’d I know that line from a game I never owned? And after last night, when all I wanted was to sleep. And I stayed awake through Balance’s Deep Sleep meditation. Uh, trust the science. Am I becoming a MAGA moron? “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain….” You see, I want money…

Lots and lots of money. But I swear if I knew, I’d become some Republican stooge, or I would make someone feel the fear my father instilled in me. Or I would know such hate. Well, “If anything, I am an equal opportunity misanthropist.” You have The Gargoyle to thank for that one. Yet another reason I miss Braxton so damn much, Madam. Is that what I meant when I said Virgil wasn’t helping? To have that feeling again. Being the man, the dad that I once was. Yet he was jumping around like crazy. Not in pain. Feared the storm. And here I was, ignoring him, insipid and indifferent. Why’d Braxton die again? “Will It Go Round in Circles?” Travel Far Enough, Meet Yourself

862 Days Without B III, Day 303 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Popup Passengers

Life is one hell of a trip and I think walking takes too long, I mean we’re supposed to enjoy the trip but I feel maybe I have never found a home. “Popup Passengers”, I’ve just been flying along with others waiting for something, to be welcomed?

To my fellow passengers who wish,
who pray, that ask God

will you catch this?
And before he can even nod

jump of your own accord
traveling on the hands of a clock, the days of a calendar
hoping you don’t fall forevermore

into Superman’s arms.
Entrusting that your donation

in truth, justice, the American way, in all its charms
will get you to your final destination

Which is… do you even know anymore?
Your own heart’s parameters
as if this is what you came for

an inch, a ticket, a page
telling you where to go, on a pen tip

flying from its cage
not knowing where you’ll be at the end of it.

Only escape is its own reward
or at least higher than the Challenger
Can you afford

the mental rent in the minds of men
a window seat

asking again and again
when shall we meet

my Sweet Lord.
In this life, in this can of worms
what am I moving towards

like so many others
where will my life begin

for I am no Wright brother
watching autumn leaves in the wind.

Welcome aboard
All my fellow passengers
Don’t know how or why but watch how I soar

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

High Off Confession

Gripes are supposed to go up, not down, so why do people get low, why do people get high, strangely enough, I was neither writing this, angels aren’t real right but people have airplanes. High Off Confession, would I really need a priest for this one

What goes good with confession?

Perhaps a side of God?
If my words could reach so high…
But would I rather keep my secrets,
to make my regrets the sod
freshened

with so many tear stained letters
that I ask, can you stop the rain
cause I’m leaving on a jet plane?
Only you’re the jet setter
A new profession;

and with my warmest regards
or sincerely
However, may I say it clearly?
Louder as my heart breaks apart
the question

can you, will you, will she?
No erase
backspace
when she pressed delete
That’s my prerogative but her discretion

Not the wind, the speed, the sky’s color or hue
even the air to breathe
someone get me a priest
for if I am to drown on a word or two
this concession

To live loud, slamming doors,
fist, the beating of my heart
Maybe a confession is not so smart
selfless, brave, honest or kind, anymore,
better my impression

of the sound of silence
Regain the spirit of the caveman
wondering not how any man
learned to fly, speak, or become giants
Yes, my regression

Because with my confession
would come another transgression

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

Going Somewhere Cupid

See Me Here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iT4OFEB8uyE

And if I had someplace to be
Buying a bouquet of flowers
that you’d never see
What… they’d die in an hour
Go to Rock Hard Mr. Jeweler
You’ll love me like you do
For what would be cooler…
maybe, I could give it to you
If I had the courage to

be going somewhere
Instead, run boy run… but why
Because I’m shy, no… I’m scared
Petrified, when you’re such a wonderful surprise
Only you’re not in my red room
You’re not mine, tragic
With “him” I’ll assume
Never mine to ravish
Me you’d never choose

But wouldn’t it be nice…
Suppose I might never know
Because this place is not quite paradise
To find you I might have to go
Holding my breath, when I slip you a note
I don’t want to run that fast
Don’t want to scare you… I hope
Then love has already passed
When the stars go blue

will you stay with me, or be right here waiting there
In your lingerie… someday
Well I won’t be no runaway
My heart’s not going anywhere

When you’re too close to care

Copyright © 2015 Second Circle Creations, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Inspired By: Babydoll a.k.a. Emily Browning… Sucker Punch, “Rock Hard Mr. Jeweler” by Will Bradford Jr, Ellie Goulding “Love Me Like You Do” Fifty Shades of Grey Soundtrack, Woodkid “Run Boy Run”, Shawn Hlookoff “Wonderful Surprise”, The Beach Boys “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”, Bliss 66 “Not Quite Paradise”, The Corrs ft. Bono “When The Stars Go Blue”, Sam Smith “Stay With Me”, Richard Marx “Right Here Waiting”, Sugar Ray “Someday”, The National “Runaway” and a preview of “Beyond Ruin” by Kit Rocha