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.

 

No One Goes There

Nowhere to run or hide, to be stuck and afraid, or sometimes to even embrace this place in life, but who can truly do that? No One Goes There but how I have been reminded I was on my way so many years ago.

Where you gonna Turn
Which direction
Haven’t you learned?
Nothing but correction
Going round in circles

Left or right
By those that claim purple
Blinded by the light

Where you gonna Seek
Already there
What they say about the meek
Why should you care?
About a cure

The answer
It’s like cancer
Truth kills faster

Where you gonna Go
It’s a small world
Don’t you know?
So what if home were
Real

Monsters don’t confess
You know the deal
A life repossessed

Where you gonna Run
Can you even see?
In the setting sun
All you have is feet
And then you fall

Flat on your face
Do you bawl?
When the monsters taste

Where you gonna Hide
Nowhere
Because you’ll believe the lie
Are you scared?
You should be

Already lost
Not like me
Your soul the cost

Where you gonna go
Run or hide
No one knows
Or finds

No One Goes There

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

Nobody’s Fuel

When I was a kid and hell even now I always heard that the way to handle a bully was to stand up to them, otherwise they keep coming, they won’t ever stop, it won’t ever stop. Nobody’s Fuel, the ride has to end somewhere

And I will be nobody’s fuel
What’s so funny?
Am I a joke to you?
Clown, Jester, do you think I’m a Mime?
Or is it just my face

because don’t I wish
I was that much of a fool
When it’s just me maybe
That makes you spill your guts
In one way or another

Whether it’s the latest rumor
Wait please not so fast
while you’ve been so cruel
Can’t I be World War III
Remember all the things you said

Let’s share nightmares
So scary right, so angry yes
But where you gonna run
Could I call this a duel?
No, won’t you stay with me

As what you did wasn’t cool
In fact, it was downright skeevy
Only don’t take it back
No way to move forward
I’m nobody’s fuel for tears

What I am is standing right here

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

Looking Grim

I played with the thought, quite a bit actually but if you see the year yeah I survived, I made my way back to the land of the living… am I actually calling this living now hmm? Looking Grim, to be honest things have looked better often enough really

Better than… acting
As if you know the truth
Like life you’re attacking
But do you follow through
Or are you snacking
Leaving it to your stunt crew

Better than… showing
The whole damn world
Where we’re going
What’s the word?
Death
Cheated but defeated?
Blind and deaf
Yet we all meet it

Better than… knowing
Tricks are for kids
But we’re growing
Too big
Bigger you think
Than what’s to come
Kool-Aid to drink
Or you run

Better than… towing
Wisdom and knowledge
Where you going
For me it wasn’t college
Call me confused and lost
If you’re not going to die
Why carry the cross
Jigsaw’s my guy

Better than… lacking
The cure
Success is tapping
But I learned
What’s happening
And so I’ll burn

Because it’s more than a look
It’s me
That cooks
And I see
But was not shook
At what has to be

A blessing and a sin
My brother’s keeper
Better than… looking grim
A look at the Grim Reaper

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

Write Walls and Cages

The mind has the skull, the tongue is behind teeth, and the heart is behind bars and I realize that it is a good reason for all of that. “Write Walls and Cages” why are my fingers still out on bail or today they serve as jailers just maybe.

Can’t you keep it down
Now I’d say something dumb
but pride comes before the fall
and for that crime
we were doing the time
for all the things he thought he knew when we were young
insane in the membrane
He’s how I got my start

Only you played your part
You’re the one that brought our shame
For running your tongue
crossing every damn line
Are you that blind?
Won’t take your blame is all,
worse you’re a no good lazy bum
letting the fingers pound

Wait a minute maybe we weren’t the ones
No, no, no, “it’s” the one to blame
Damn the heart
Who knows what he’ll find
For dollars, no sense, but then some DIME
Maybe we shouldn’t be so loud
He lives in a cage but um
That’s why he can’t read the writing on the wall

You were meant to be confined
Why must we remind

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

 

Mime No More

This is what happens when you speak; I mean my penname is “Marquis de Joker” yeah I’m a clown but I don’t have any jokes, I am the joke, makes me a mime. Mime No More… might find out Saturday, my writing was certainly a joke with HR, maybe.

And he would have been sorry
if he could get a grip
of his love-struck heart; boring
But a pink slip
is gruesome and gory
This is it

With his name on the dotted line
He would walk right out the door
Or he would pretend this time
Only what’s the truth there for
Fine
He’ll ask God once more

Oops
right, he was too damn loud
Talked at all, big whoops
Because he’s a clown and how
For just one big group
Mankind… and he was bound

To want to be one of you
Because of “her”
Pretend, that’s what they do
Wouldn’t you rather…
Well it doesn’t matter; he told the truth
Why was there laughter

if he wasn’t funny
Not enough or too much
Well anyway there goes the money
Where is the love
Suppose he should die really
Because what’s to become should he see

It’s all there in black and white
Line by line and they didn’t have to find
pencil, paper, evidence in sight
Can’t you see his crime?
Guess it wasn’t very bright
There goes his job of being a mime
Sorry is the word that never comes out right

Copyright © 2015 Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.