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.

With Life’s Sojourn

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Looking Dim

A month or so before a bad day, I know bad days are coming and I didn’t really want to say it back then or now; let’s just say it was like graduating high school, had nothing to do with me. Looking Dim, because the future wasn’t all that bright.

Aging in the black
Yet the light grows brighter
For life, I have no knack
My heart grew no lighter
The deck is stacked

So blow them out
So many candles
No name now
My vandals

A moment eyes closed
But their lips are wide
Think I don’t know
Teeth, fangs, and knives
I hope they choke

So knock them out
Feast of flesh
Smacking so loud
Why aren’t I dead yet

The dark sky
Shows all its victims
And who am I
But a cell in the system
No goodbye

So don’t look up
Can’t help but feel envy
I was never enough
Abomination, God murder me

Would you take my picture?
Make me famous
These vultures much richer
How I hope it’s painless
Suicide’s the pitcher

So don’t be in pictures
But the world will know
Maybe an itchy trigger finger
On with the show

Smoke and fire
Beats breathing
This light my desire
I should be leaving
Still, I won’t be admired

So don’t die
Rage, rage
Against the dying of the light
That you made

As you closed your eyes
The Abomination
Yet you wonder why
I chose such a sin
Finally in the light
That’s looking dim

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

Troubling Twenty to Tango

I was pretty angry at a beautiful person at first and I was about to you some pretty foul language at the start “BUT” then I thought a bit better of it, not the underlying problem though. Troubling Twenty to Tango… they say it takes twenty seconds ha

And I will see you in twenty
If I were only that eager
Why don’t I figure it out in guts
or any number of buts
which grow ever so meager
It’s only not funny
as I’ve been pegged
one ain’t too proud to beg

Now I ask for what
Because it’s never enough
Yet they call me the seeker
Maybe I’m ugly
tripping over my own two legs
like I just finished a keg
okay two but you know something
you’re the disease, the virus, the fever

So what I’m not a believer
In you’ll see
Without pictures or Mpegs
Even if I throw up my eggs
My courage with overcome any
And all anxiety… eh I’m a dreamer
Sot guess what
You won’t ever tell me to shut up

Ever again

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

A Wind Is a Wind

Air is for breathing, I breathe to live and some take a breath to talk and I think they are actually getting the better part of it to be honest. A Wind Is a Wind I would say I shouldn’t talk anymore but I would say type either and yet we’re here

And don’t waste your breath on I don’t care
If you have to take another gulp of air
Why don’t you ask God where he’s been?
Still, I have nothing to say to him
Is there a God.com
for I would surely profane

every sin to the wind
Never said them out loud anyway
How my dad talks to my mom
because I could never cause such pain
So why did I share
Tell me why do I dare

A push of a button is an atom bomb
When a man decides he has no brain
I choose to become one of them
Failing today
But of course, life’s not fair
Don’t I see the man standing there?

Quasimodo never looked so grim
I’d burn my shadow where I lay
alone if only to spare
one more person that awkward affair
of being my friend and disturbing the calm
I’m not a hurricane

No, I’m the sitcom
that you find skeevy, inappropriate and lame
only I can’t be saved or repaired
My anxiety you stare
Sorry and I’ll say it again
Better I’ll blow away

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