Fresh Fear

They don’t know they’re gone die… cows I mean, indeed all animals, hell neither do I and yet I know the fear of death. Fresh Fear; it seems like every day I find something new to be afraid of and one day I will be devoured, and when the time comes I’ll be…

Fresh, alive, me
After last night’s dream
More like a nightmare, you see

Born of my indiscretion
Reflected
Detected

On my way to the slaughterhouse
To be a mouse
How I denounce

This heart’s beating
There is no entreating
The end I’m meeting

I’m already burning
With the blades turning
Already hurting

Misery and strife
I’ll fry
But first the knife

Better to rot
At least it would stop
Wouldn’t be on top

Those carrion crows
Who would know?
Where could I go?

Nowhere
It’s not fair
Being so scared

Chosen
Frozen
Is there atonement?

Never
Should I treasure?
Forever

I don’t want to die
Or hide
Not even survive

Another breath to give
To live
Don’t think I ever did

Fear is all
As my flesh crawls
Raw

Copyright © 2012, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

My Enemy Within

Biology… the mere thought makes me want to vomit blood, and the sight but more importantly the knowledge of such blood makes me wish I was never born. My Enemy Within… and I know now that it’s not me and not even within anymore but without anyone.

My enemy within
If only I could see
Begin again

How my eyes do descend
Who’s scorn would it be
My enemy within

Who, what, where, and when
Stop, I plead
Begin again

Defend
Not a possibility
My enemy within

Because of him
Who’s your daddy?
Begin again

It never ends
Him, you, and me
My enemy within
Begin again

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

DO NOT CROSS

Like a door marked do not enter or maybe do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, I have always been kept out or maybe I just didn’t want to go in. DO NOT CROSS… that red ribbon or maybe yellow police tape; what will we find behind it.

Do not enter
Such colorful tape
To state
On such treasures
An entrance to forever
Someday
Or much too late
Whatever

Red ribbon
Happy faces cut
Yet I love
Yellow hintin’
At who still lies?
Inside

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

Rowing Or…

Am I really going forward, where am I going, and really wherever I’m headed do I truly want to be there at all. Rowing Or…; I’m no longer drowning but I suppose I was less loss when I was still in the water, for down seems so much better than around.

Rowing
Ass backwards
It’s a curse
Not knowing
Yet I’m going
Yes Ma’am, yes Sirs
Why… I’m not sure
I’m thinking of forgoing

Oars
To sink or swim
I don’t know where to begin
But no more
Dreams weighing me down
Slowly let me drown

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

Mellow Sunshine

Why bother being the only one, why bother trying to reach the tip top, I think this was during a moment that decent and adequate, being fine actually trumped trying to be happy, or I was really into “Paranoia Agent”. Mellow Sunshine…

Why so negative
Looked at as a sin

Twelve wanting to be twelve
The difference between Heaven and Hell
Is PM to AM
It’s not fair
Middle to the start of the new
Which do you choose?
Morning is declined
For the mellow sunshine

God’s happy cry
For the Devil beating his wife
How I want to be happy
But the Devil can’t have me
Tears during the day
You I must obey
Not alright or fine
In the mellow sunshine

A world with more birthdays
You can take mine away
All twenty-seven
Just want to get to Heaven
Or the second-circle of Hell
Can’t you tell?
I don’t deny
With the mellow sunshine

Life begins
When
Love, lust, and sin
Maybe when life ends
From cell, to cell, to Hell
Oh well
Life’s a bitch and then you die
Not on a beach but mellow sunshine

And so many stars can’t be the one
Sun
My daddy taught me
Another somebody
Under a black sky
Why can’t I die?
Still alive
This mellow sunshine

Negativity I like
Because the mellow sunshine
Isn’t as bright
As you would like

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

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.

 

Retaining Reinvention

Since I have the tendency to talk to myself *ahem* “I didn’t want you to remember I want you to forget” as if I could be as bad as Kruger though I try. Retaining Reinvention… as many times as I have tried to be someone else, I don’t know who I am anymore.

Retaining
Memories of boos
And shoos
Yet I’m staying
For want of saying
The truth
Of course, you knew
No need explaining

Like I could mention
Who I am
Don’t understand
My reinvention
If only I could see
Who I want to be

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

ACROSS From Calvary

I’m an atheist… as far as I’m concerned the so called greatest story ever told is just a crap movie like a really good story The Golden Compass. ACROSS From Calvary as if anyone cares about Jesus, he may not be the way but neither is the crap on TV.

Across from Calvary
People watch and moan
Oh No
Bieber just might be…
The next dancer to see…
X factor was known
An idol unknown
As Jesus maybe

Second in the coming
Zombie Apocalypse
Proof I insist
But there is nothing
Heavy is the cross
Following the last episode of LOST

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

Hear Me Out

Once upon a time I made a mom pretty “darn” angry, and it wasn’t my mom for once and I can’t say that this poem helped any. Hear Me Out, well to be fair I don’t even talk to my own mother or many people in my everyday life and still, I try to explain.

Hear me here
I wish you were dear
My girlfriend, my lover, or even a friend
So where do I begin
This isn’t the place
Or is this a waste?

Hear me there
Do you care?
What I have to say
I listen every day
… Okay, okay I’ll shut up
You’ve had enough

Hear me now
Better yet how
Freaking blocked me
You’re not listening
Or buying
Am I lying?

Hear me in
Is that a sin?
These screams
My dreams
Aren’t real
But you feel

What I am
Is not a good man?
Which I never cop to
But a fool
For freedom
So read on
Or don’t
You probably won’t

Hear me out
What I’m about
Sex and drugs
Death and blood
But to clock
And knock
Let me explain
Know my name
Am I too loud?
Just hear me out

Lesson 018 ~Blueprint, 140 Characters or Less~

One of my friends often talks about my raw emotion, my raw passion, maybe I’m just trying to scrape myself raw of everything and somehow keep myself. Blueprint, 140 Characters or Less or how I have been changing the world

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Lesson 018 ~Blueprint, 140 Characters or Less~

Hey there Lady Luna,
Maybe it was that moment when I wrote a word down and didn’t have any idea what it meant and my aunt said “that’s your name”, maybe it was when I wrote that story about turkeys taking over the planet, how about the story that is somewhat dusty on the shelf. I’m my own worst critic Luna, we both know this, there is not a moment that goes by that I believe I can make it, so why do I do it hmm, why do I write anything, my friend?

“You want me to beg? Okay, I’ll beg. This is the only thing I know I am good at! Don’t take that away from me!” Best of the Best (1989)

Three bloggers liked “Some Things Can’t Be Erased”, do you know how I felt when I found out people liked my book reviews because they don’t like anything else of mine, okay about nine liked “Mime No More”. Amazon let the review on without a second thought, Goodreads, WordPress, Facebook, nobody stopped me, and I really thought, why would they you know, did I do anything wrong? How often that thought pops into my head, did I do anything wrong, am I defective, am I a mistake, you know about “the day” the one we don’t talk about because it’s the biggest regret of my entire life and it’s not even my fault at all.

“The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.”
― from Ayn Rand

A friend asked me about why I write book reviews and personally it’s not my favorite thing in the world but okay one, a few authors have come to me asking for reviews and while I don’t think for a second that I’m special, again I want to write myself so I can understand helping them. Next, the books that no one asked for I suppose, keep me busy, I like talking about books and about my feelings towards them, seriously if someone just wants facts or hands no emotions why bother? Lastly, as I said, of anything I write nowadays I know my reviews are read, maybe even liked to a certain extent and I like that feeling of knowing that I’m a part of the universe, for one time in my life Luna I’m not invisible, I matter.

So why do I feel this way today, I wear my heart on my sleeve, and today at work, the managers asked am I happy and I said no comment, why, because I would never stop screaming. I need to learn how to expect and to accept criticism because it’s going to come; Lady Lu if I have anything to say about it, I have to believe it will come and as Michael Jackson put it, I’m starting with the man in the mirror… okay well, maybe not me first.

“You need structure. Yeah? You need discipline.

Yes, sir. Thank you for trying to teach me. Don’t give up on me, Dad.” American Beauty (1999)

I suppose my “father” did try, without a doubt he was the first one to tell me that I didn’t matter; do you know I was so scared of him when I was a child I would write notes about everything rather than face him. Maybe that’s what this is you know, I write notes to the world and then when I face rejection, it just tears me apart, let’s take this morning for example.

“Although it’s understandably cathartic when you find something that resonates with you, physically, emotionally, or otherwise- sometimes you have to ask yourself whether or not this is the right venue to write a monolog about it. This is one of those times. You’re not sick, as there is an entire industry supporting this exact genre. Sometimes things are just as simple as wanting to give up a measure of control (or seizing it) as a form of escape. This is also one of those times. Live outside your head more, dude. And for goodness sake, find some more open consensual adults to explore all aspects of your sexuality with. Seriously.”

‘A military man, especially a commander should keep a journal. After he’s gone, it’s the only real defense against the slander that later arises.” – General Bethlehem, The Postman (1997)

Okay, I have asked myself is this the right venue and I have decided that yes, it is, because it’s mine, Amazon, Goodreads, WordPress, Facebook along with a host of others have made it so. I agree with the ideas of both control and escape and again, I have questioned myself and again I have decided that my writing is a form both of control and also of escape as well. For now, I will live my life as I see fit even if that place is my own mind and as far as “consenting adults”, never in my life have I been with someone not consenting as you seem to be suggesting, yeah seriously.

“1) I hardly think a multi vitamin and some shit for my hair, skin, and nails constitutes “medicating” so I’m not worried at all about it.

2) I feel as though you look far too deep into what I write. I have a high pain tolerance, this has nothing to do with BDSM. “I look to my left” turns into a sensual song. Like, dude. No. I’m just looking at the sunrise. Nothing deeper than that. It skeeves me out that every comment written on here by you has something sexual included. This blog is not like that. Your comments and readership are respected and appreciated but the subject matter of what I write and will discuss are far different than what you write and wish to discuss. A lot of the things you say via comment are highly inappropriate. Not all, but a lot.”

Okay, Luna, I was trying to confront my demons on here, the first one was rather easy but the second one that “1-2” combo was from “Miss Girl for All Seasons” and even now I’m disgusted at myself for making her feel that way about me. I’m angry that I hurt our “friendship” like that, I’m angry that I can’t get over it, and I’m angry at her just in general. The point is Luna that words can build us up and knock us down just as easily as any brick, stone, or any amount of money, hell when I was writing my novel, each and every word is like building a whole new world.

“It’s time to change the world, kids. Here’s the blueprint” Messiah by Dead Celebrity Status

I don’t want to be like one of those people that answers, I’m only trying to touch one person because I’m too damn greedy and do I want fame and fortune… I wouldn’t say no to it. There was a time when I figured girls like the flowery stuff and they do if you have the face to go with it but the question is why do I write now.

“I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch, but one. An Inch, it is small and it is fragile, but it is the only thing the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us. I hope that whoever you are, you escape this place. I hope that the world turns and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you – Valerie” V for Vendetta (2005)

A history teacher told me that history is written by the victors, yeah we’ve been over this because I said I think history is written by the survivors. In another book, a man said, we tell these stories, we write them down so no one can say they didn’t happen, there will be a record, of course, he was talking about accounts of the Holocaust.

So why do I write Lady Lu, I write to understand, myself, everything in between, and the girl I’m hoping to find someday because I rather not lie; I write fiction sometimes but I never lie. I write because there has to be a beginning, there has to be a place that I can say, yes this is where it started and now that I know where it began, here’s the present, and I can start writing my future. Luna these words come because in the universe I reside in, no place exists, do you think I could tell my breathing therapist this, my “friends” won’t understand and in words I can create a universe that can never be real, seek out a kingdom worthy of your soul, yeah the meaning of life once before.

“I am wandering inside, wandering through my past, trying to see if there is a place there strong enough to hold me.
—Ruth Mendenberg”
― Carol Matas, After the War

“There’s the secret of life. People change people. No matter what I teach you in here, learning from the people you care about is more important than the words on any page.” Girl Meets World

I don’t agree Mr. Matthews, that’s what I say to this Luna, words will always matter and I don’t like to think I care about the whole world, all I learned from the Amazon commenter and Miss Girl for All Seasons is that I’m wrong, I’m bad and while Miss Seasons has a valid point considering her own work I don’t have to talk to her anymore. No It’s you and me Luna, and yeah a few billion dollars would be nice but that’s another reason we’re friends, because I’m sick of being told I’m wrong, I’m sick of being told to go away, I’m sick of being unwanted, I hear that enough of when I leave my bed. Why do I write Luna, because that my dear was never an option in my case, in that moment I wrote my own name writing is who I truly was.

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?” John Keating, Dead Poets Society

I’m not getting religious on you Luna but wasn’t God lonely and so he created the world and while most of the world loves him/her/it some version there are people who still say no and for some reason that leaves him heartbroken? Talk about power, you see it isn’t just me except I’m not trying to cram myself down everyone’s throat, I know where to stop but someday I want to be everywhere, that’s the dream. I’ve never been a guy for just one, I mean one girl sure, one dog because Braxton is greedy, and while I dream of being in the one percent I know all too well the power of the people.

“I make mistakes but learn from every one
And when it’s said and done
I bet this Brother be a better one
If I upset you don’t stress, never forget
That God isn’t finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes I go blind and let the Lord do his thang” – Ghetto Gospel

I want to change the world Lady Lu, and it was the words on the page that got them to respond, to wreck my world and to fire me up to begin anew. People change people but I never got as close as the words did and while I respect Twitter my Blueprint, 140 Characters or Less… nope, I’m going to need some more.

“And I could still draw. Nothing had lessened it as much as I had abused it, abandoned it. It was a gift, and it was still mine. And everything else was less real. What can it mean? That picture of the world. But when it’s true, we recognize it in ourselves, in others. We recognize it, like love, completely undeserved.” – Finn Bell, Great Expectations (1998)