Tuesday, June 01, 2004

Alpha Zulu 15:00

Alpha Zulu 15:00
by Christopher J. Bradley
Revised 6/1/2004


If only more dreamers existed
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:21:51 AM

If only more dreamers existed
The sky would be filled with prism clouds.
The angles and curves would meld like
A well crafted pool game with english
And french vanilla ice cream as well.

Today the morning is cold
And the clouds are grey
But for each Dreamer
Or Sleeper
Who Awakens
The Colors Brighten
And The Bleach is Siphoned
From The Rivers
To Be Used For More Constructive
Clothes Washing.

Tequila in a golden morning
Is the only drink for me
On that day
When I reach
Club Medicine
On Every One
Of The 7 Million Beaches
Of The First 3 Planets.

Eggs and Spaghetti Sauce
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:19:21 PM

When I was in third grade
The notion of this combo
Made me want to vomit
But the nuns made us eat it anyway

Now I look forward to the occasional
Italian Omelet
With Lots of gooey Mozzarella
And sautéed garlic mushrooms inside.

Just writing this is making me hungry

Entering the water
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:23:44 AM ©2003

Entering the water
In a Shower Bath
Is Soothing And Relaxing to the soul.

You can just lay back
And sing your troubles away
As the blues take your mood
While the water splashes down on your chest.

It is good to be myself
With my tingling beard scratching my neck
While I soap under my arms and atop my chest.

And dream of a milder wind that will uplift my house.

Find your Fires
by Christopher J. Bradley

Find your fires
In a canadian maple leaf
102.1 The Edge (www.edge.ca)
They change seasonally
And the music passes with the time
Or alternately

Listen to hip hop on MTV2
It's getting hot in here
So take off all your sweaters

And I'll give you some New Orleans Beads
On The Cusp of Next February's Tuesday.

Full Hearts
by Christopher J. Bradley

Full hearts
Can Never Be Broken.
It's Like The Measure Of Innocence
In A Child's Eyes
When They Are Opened To Sunday School.

The Miracle Is There
When The Curtains
To Knowledge Are Opened
That The Word Is The Truth.
In Every Library
On Every Continent.

2 Generations
by Christopher J. Bradley

I've seen 2 generations of geese
Move over the winds of the North
Traveling to their summer homes
And reporting back each year
With their honking calls

Their life in spring
Renews me
From your hand.

Mirror Dance
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:59:36 PM ©2003

The two mirrors face each other
Like opposing armies
The Blue and Grey
Of The Civil War Era.
In My Dining Room.

One Sits Upon The Refurbished Player Piano
The Other Upon The Armoire
And the sands travel into them
As I rest upon the table.

If you look closely enough
There is a third mirror here
Almost transparent
The glass in the face
Of the antique China Cabinet.

And I can see myself in there
Aging in Porcelain
In One Hundred Years.

My Sky Is Beautiful
9/19/2003 6:53:50 AM ©2003
by Christopher J. Bradley

My sky is beautiful
He is golden like a sunrise.
His breath is warm and humid to my fingers.
And he smiles at me when I call to him.
His four strong saplings
Of the seasons
Winter Spring Summer and Fall
Bound up into the air
To catch these bones
Which I cast into eternity.

He rises with me at dawn
And his chimes whistle in the daily breeze
He prances with me into the evening hours
And licks at my feet like
The cold slush of a frozen morning in the snow.

His innocence is like a child’s dream of driving down
An open road to an amusement park beyond the gates of heaven.
Which he expresses in his sunny call.

His mammalian tail flashes into the darkness of the clearest night
Where his pupils flash the reflections of the constellations and the
Smiling shining face of the moon
Rising with the tides of Ontario.

When the drizzle comes to a halt
He blows in with the wind and the scattered colorful leaves of autumn
Bringing with him the tracks of the weather in the mud
Of the thinned turf of our fenced in yard.

I look both up and down to see him
As his tail is in the dippers and fans out like the flay
Of a peacocks iridescent shining feathers of the spectrum.

I invite him to join me in watching the television
And find him across from me as I read engrossed in the radio hum
On the front porch.

And when I go to sleep
My sky curls up at my feet and snoozes quietly
As we dream.

Oil Paint
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:42:44 AM ©2003

When I used Oil Paint
I did not see Niagara Falls
Like my brother Dan
Or A wooded path
Like my sister Sharon.

I saw an industrial city scape
Dusted with the tinge of red orange clouds
In The sunset
Of a magenta evening.

And so I mixed my colors
Red Yellow and White
And pitted them against
My black buildings
The brush flashing
In The Hands.

Of A Musician

But Not a Painter.

Squirrel Visits
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:19:46 AM

I've received some Squirrel Visits this morning
And on some previous mornings.
Their little teeth are stuck in Acorns
And they wave at me with their paws
Just before they begin to dig
To plant the winter's food.

They are complemented
By a squadron of sparrows
That play in the dirt
At the end of the driveway
And read the playings of the bugs in the grass
To feed their squeaking children.

I've seen the first Blue Jay
In a couple years
Fly above
Like a protector of this Glenn
And a sign
That the season is turning.

Street Hop Marigold
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/30/2003 2:16:53 AM ©2003

Marigolds are sweet
Like Daisies
But Not as Delicious As Tulips
Or The Iris of a Tigress.

Joy Is In The Luck
Of The Banzai
Of A Chinese Festival
In Manhattan Beach
On West 52nd
In The Hills
Of The N Rails
Above Astoria's High Rises
And The Greek Diner
At The Corner Of McKormick
And Henry Davidson
The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance
Is American In Nature
While Automobiles Owe It to Mercedes.

Don't Ask Me What The Poets Are Doing
A Violet Thunder Is Blowing A Kid Around
In My Oven Fresh Rear View
While The Tinsel Of A Finch's Nest
Is Dangling Above The Moses Robert Express
In Mandalay Village
This Side Of Okinawa's Harbors
Where The Marines Of Necronomicon
Raise Their Americans.

The Fishermen Have Netted 150 Million Acid Trippers
And That's Just Within The Domestic United States
The Other 6 Continents Are The Tide That Swing November.
With Kofi On The Scales And The Lieutenant Governor Of Tomorrow In At The Starting Gates.

The Tangle Gun Is Loaded And Set To Stun
We're About To Put The Breaks On The Elephants
And The Crazy Foam In The Sorority Dorms Is Flowing
Like Waves Of Pointsettas In A Power Puff Nightmare.
Sigma - Phi - Epsilon Pisses On The Houses
Of Delta Delta Delta. Thought You Might Get A Kick Out Of That.

Chicago Is A Volleyball Court
With Kordell Stuart Throwing Pearls At The Eagles
And Bledsoe Is About To Throw A 50 Yard Pass To Reed
While Tommy Maddoxes Crew Plays Roughneck Smashmouth In The Mud. The Chrysler Team Is Eaking Out Some Monster Sales For A Rainy Day. And I'm Going To Own 4 Mustangs But I'm Not Buying Them From Ford.

Best Regards From Your American Brother
Someday We'll Do Lunch On The Moon
And Hang Out With Ludas Rooster
Cause You Know
The Dirty South
Is My Litterbox!
Much Respect To The Hyperbolic Fro.

Sun Dried Tomato Spread
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:28:01 AM ©2003

One evening my friend and I were walking down Elmwood Avenue
We spotted a new bakery called the Metro.

They sold different kinds of breads
Made with Spinach Garlic and Tomato.
I ordered a Loaf of Tomato
The Clerk offered me some spread.

The spread was delicious
It was tomato with all of the energy
Of a warm summer day
Stored up like a starburst within.

It was a true thorough delight
To my overtaxed taste buds

I vowed to return
And one day I will make that stop

The Dancing Moths
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:53:25 AM ©2003

The moths on my front porch
Dance in spirals up and down
When I play music
On my little SONY alarm clock.

They like to fizzle to
The lamplight
While I read in the darkness
Of A Warm summer night

Harley Davidsons and Cop Sirens
Blare above the jazzy pop
On Adjacent Streets
While My Moths Dance For Me
In Their Own Choir

Of The Lonely Moments In The Moon.

The Fisherman and The Cigar
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:00:52 AM

Don't let your bones chill you.
This is some great work.
I know the place you are speaking of
And I've never seen a fisherman
Smoking a cigar.
I have seen him with a corncob pipe
In an old fraternity sweatshirt
Dancing around in God's country
Make that the planet
That falls in a grove
Beneath A summer's Sky
With the Mercury of Sable
In his back pocket.
I know he's still there.
And he'll be back
From the docks
Before we can say
He's been out
All afternoon.

The Mercury of Sable
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/19/2003 7:29:58 AM ©2003

Sable is dressed in Gold today
But her temperament is like quicksilver
She shreds the curtains on windows that are closed
To open viewpoints on the greater world outside.

For her small world under a scorching sun
She is enormous in her radiant glamour.
Her coat weathered as armour
Gleams brightly fortified with protein and butter
And her fury in her escapes in the green
On a glamorous spring day.

She has sky as a sattelite as they
Prance together within the clouds
And the angellic constellations
Of the mantle and Edison’s
Solution to the Darkness.

Sable is always eager to share the gravy of an evenings table
And is an expert at extracting our sympathies with
Her loving and protective eyes.

She is a professional at protecting us
From the mail carriers wiles
And stares at my father’s knee
As he absorbs the morning Blotter
And soaks up the world News Report
On Channel Seven.

Sable glistens and smiles the entire morning
When you reach toward the sunlight to pet her
And even her shadow smiles in the moonlight
In quiet reciprocation for any small extension of a charitable embrace.

Sable used to a country girl
But she is getting used to the subburban thumping
Of the automobiles of the college students who live all over our streets
And our neighbors loud drunken parties.

She is usually a good girl
And can often detect by smell
The hand of a hidden treat
And she will never shake hands with a stranger
She has learned from the school of hard knocks
That the wrong hand can be very very unkind.

Sable loves to rest in the
Coolness of my mother’s blankets
In the dog days of summer
And she has a gift for warming
Her feet in the nakedness of a starry night.

We often see her stellar round balls of fuzzy fur
Hurtling through the cosmos of our well lived
In home and to be perfectly honest
It is often difficult to escape her while clothed.

The mercury of Sable is in her tender eyes and quick temper
Which she will only show to the properly initiated visitor.

By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 ©2003

My friend Scott brought up the Tiamat the other day.
I Remember Playing That Old Game Dungeons and Dragons.

When I was a kid
It was so popular
That All The kids watched
the TV cartoon

The Tiamat will not affect me
It has its place in history
But Those Involved
Have long since turned to other prey.

Two Flocks of Geese
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/19/2003 6:35:04 AM ©2003

One afternoon recently
I saw two flocks of Geese
Headed South for the winter
I was in the passenger seat of my aunt’s Buick.

I long for their kind of freedom
But not their fear of the nozzle
Of the camouflaged hunter’s shotgun.

Their song as they passed overhead
Was like that of a choir of traffic
Like the honking horns of midtown Manhattan.

May they never cease to sing.

By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:34:01 AM ©2003

Vincent was a warrior diplomat
His laser was locked and loaded for skeet
The other droids didn’t like Vincent
So they tried everything in their power to dismantle him.

But he’s out there on his estate now
Ready to make a difference
When the time comes
And the Cygnus crushes into the Black Hole.

For Vincent
There is a career in governance
Because he is not only civil
But also wise.

In silence he dances to Bulls on Parade.

What do I read in Print?
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:56:17 PM © 2003

I read Whitman and Williams
And Dickenson and Angelou
I’m in the midst of Dickens
And Langston Hughes Too.

I’ve read Gibson
And Melville
And Ellison
And Tan

And Erdrich
And Vonnegut
And Kipling
And Footprints In The Sand.

My Next Conquest is Frost
And Cummings Will Join
And I Don’t Plan To Stop
Until I’ve Exhausted my Brain.

What do I read on-line?
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:52:21 PM ©2003

On line I read
The New York Times
The La Times
And The Chicago Sun-Times (Ebert Of Course).

I read the Washington post
And I visit C-Span
And Congress.Org.

I read the London Times
And The International Herald Tribune
And I read Yahoo News
And Listen to BBC Radio 1 Tunes.

I’m A Mover And A Shaker
For Slashdot And Slate
And I Always Stay Up
Very Very Late.

Why October Is My Least Favorite Month
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:40:42 AM

October for me
Is the month of anonymous threats
And police tailings
It Is The Month of Horror Movies
And the Darkness Of Personality
And The Natural Religions.

Don't get me wrong
The colors of the sidewalks of October
Can Crackle around beautifully
In The wind Blowing in from
The West

So this year
I'm gathering my wooden Stakes
Silver Bullets
And Cloves of Garlic
And battening down the hatches
I Might Even Grab a Pail Of Water.

Creatures of the night beware
This time I'm prepared.

My Black Friend Ike
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 ©2003

At the boys club
In the 4th grade
Ike taught me binary numbers
And the “BASIC” programming language
On the Apple IIc.

He introduced me to Chris and Harry
And the other Pool Sharks that stayed late
And I learned a little bit of slang.

Harry who could play guitar
Taught me the scales
And the beginning of Stairway to Heaven
But I’d be hard pressed to remember them now.

I wanted to meditate
Like the Kung Fu Masters.
So Ike introduced me
To Dave.

Ike was a great character
And a helpful friend.

Bread Pretzel’s And Icees
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:11:49 AM ©2003

Grammy used to love to buy us
Warm Bread Pretzels and Cold Icees
When She and Mom Would
Go Lingere Shopping At Sears.

We didn’t know one way or the other
But it tasted good and it
Kept us Quiet
Shopping in a mall was fun.

I remember hiding in the centers
Of clothing racks and
Peeking out at the world
Like a hyper active Ferret.

Hey Mom
Can you buy me a Bread Pretzel sometime?
Even now that I am grown
Like a six foot Grizzly?

The Spider And The Hornet
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:49:47 AM ©2003

One morning when I was six
I was at Mike’s House
And I went up on his Front Porch
It must have been Hide and Seek.

I found myself Eye to Antenna
With a Hornet Trapped In a Spider’s Web
The Hornet Struggled
And in a moment
The Spider Came And Sewed Him Up.

It Was the last I Ever Saw Of That Hornet.
But Now Spiders And I Are Friends.
I Wonder If Spiders Like Green Tomatoes As Well
As I?

Zodiac Firecracker
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:26:01 PM ©2003

My friend Ike was half Chinese Half Italian
Like Me he is an American.
I used to have a lot of fun hanging out with him

In 5th and 6th grades.

We played basketball with his older brother
In their driveway up the street
In The Summertime

Near the Fourth of July.
He always had firecrackers
We used to shoot them off
Bottle Rockets Black Cats and Jumping Jacks.

His mother used to make the best breakfast soup.

At our 10 year high school reunion
Ike told us that he owned
A computer consulting firm in North Carolina.

I always knew that he had intelligence.

1000 years
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:12:05 AM

It seems I've been asleep too long
To not recognize the beautiful young women
Who walk up and down
Right there in front of me.

The ones I've driven in my car
Back and forth to school
The ones I envy
With all their parent's gifts.

They are there
Walking among us
Daylight and Night time
And I just couldnt' see them

Until this morning
After 1000 years
Of Falling From Skyscrapers
In the Daredevil Mists

Of The Falling Cataracts.

by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/29/2003

I missed my friend tonight
He is celebrating in his way
And I was insulted by urchins
And I had to get up and leave.

They will find that their time is short
If they haven't already.
I listened to the Smashing Pumpkins on the way home
And my Karma police didn't pull me over
Because I'm not drunk.


A Flip to LA
By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 5:53:31 AM ©2003

In a Buffalo Moment
I send a Flip to LA.
To a Nighthawk
Who Writes In The Wind
About Mass Destruction
A Ghost In The Darkness.

She Was Waiting There On A Barstool
For A Friend Of A Friend
In The Evening Hours
At A Hotel In The Subburbs.

Things Were Quiet In The Evening
But They Heated Up Over a Feta Topped Burger
When She Asked Me Why I Thought I Could Be Marketable.
An Interesting Question
Never Before Broached To Me
In All Of My Years Of Creative Writing.

The Words Flow From My Fingers Even Now
Knowing That She Has Been On The Road
In The Pages Of The Book That Rested On My Table
While The Coffee Simmered.
A Windswept Fantasy Girl
From The West Coast
With Images Certified By Japan
Probably The Most American of Women
Not to Be Wrestled With.

She Had A Mind and Thought I Needed Some Coaching
I Appreciated Her Kind Thoughts.
She Told Me About The Groundhog Day Verdict.
Something I will have to Keep in Mind.

Its Time For Her To Unwind
Maybe She’ll Share Time With That Friend
And Things Will Go Smoothly.
I Hope They Do.

Lord Give My Entertainment The Strength
To Maybe Help This To Happen.
For The Moment
Of All Moments
Is On The Rise.

A Flip To LA
Like A Thermonuclear Kernel
To The Back Of The Lips
At a Drive In Movie Lot
Out In The Sticks
But From Here
There’s No Telling
Where The Night Lights
Might Lead.

A Waltz in Black
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:10:21 AM

A Waltz in Black
With Jackie Chan in a Tuxedo
Dancing With His Girl
To The Gentle Pulses of PM Dawn.

The Insects Sing In The Silence
Of A Morning
Under The Haze
Of Tobacco Smoke

And I Ride On The Cycle
Into Jane's Flight Simulations
On The Web Of

A Spider Long Since
Past Away
In His Own Webs.

"Caught a light sneeze Dreamed a little dream"
©2003 by Christopher J. Bradley

This cool weather is giving me a cold. It's more than a little upsetting.

Where the heck is everybody?

I thought I was among a throng of daytrippers?

My dogs are keeping me company and barking at the TV.

Tori Amos is on Comedy Central.

WOMAD is still the best.

Dancing into Chilly Sprinkles
9/17/2003 8:50:06 AM ©2003
by Christopher J. Bradley

My ears were a fuzzbox without muffs
The winter was cold
And I was appreciating the heat from a subway grate
While waiting in line.

The Front St. Bus picked us up
And we were off to the
Pleasure Joker’s Lair
And the writing on the pages before us
Started to move around.

My Blonde Rose and her girl
Were getting off on the bus too
Because we were going to be dancing chilly sprinkles
All night long
While the Mark II’s swiveled
And the girls in the white gloves
Were doing the grind.

"Face painted cigarette white"
by Christopher J. Bradley

I saw the space girls today
Two of them
And then I heard Treble Charger
While I talked with them
About CK Be and One
And they traded comments
About Kate Moss and Revlon
And Moss' Baby.

It turns out I knew one from high school
And this is one of the best
Live versions
I've ever laid ears to.

They smelled happy.

By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 6:18:14 AM ©2003

When I was a kid
I used to punch deck on The Flipside
It was a CGBUG BBS
That I Reconstructed From CNET
Sold By Epstein.

The Whole Thing Was Really Pretty Simple
Compared With Today’s Technology
But It Gave Me The Measure To Write
And Keep A Few Maybe One Or Two
Users Interested.

We used to talk a lot about Gibson
And Star Wars
And Dungeons And Dragons
The Things That Keep People Guessing.

There Were Many Things To Discuss.
In any case
Now We Have The Flipmode Squad
With Busta Rhymes
To Rattle Off Riddims
To Tunes That Beep – Click – Beep
And Then Move
To The Beat With Their Logos And Emblems.

I Can’t Say He’s Mine
But I’ve Always Been A Fan
Ever Since Woo Hah
And The First Time I Saw Him
Tripping Out On Those U.B. Sun Stations.
People Use The Library Well There.

And Now
I’m Going To Tune In
To The Future
And Send A Flip
To The Globe.

"Move..Get Out The Way"
by Christopher J. Bradley

Move Get Out The Way
Oh No Fights Out
Someone's trying to step
On a 30 year old man.

Believe Me
This is curdled milk
And nothing is going to change my options.

Stay away from the children pal
Cause the ones I know carry weapons.

No Photos
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:04:51 AM

Don't photograph me
I don't want to be in any of your college ads
You've treated me wrong
You're making me take tests
I've already taken.

I've Stared your William Shakespeare
And Leibowicz
All in the face
And I don't see a bushel full of apples
On my front porch.

Much less
I don't even have a Front Porch.

Where's my promise of a life in the subburbs?
Where's my promise of a life with Milk in the Fridge.
Where's my promise of a baseball game in October?
Where's my promise of a family?

You've taken my rights as a person
And as a man
And now you want my photo

I'm keeping my image to myself
And you can take your white silk shirt
And use it to pull your own crank
Because it's not going to get me into a fight.

Next time your kid asks me for an autograph
You can pay full price for the limited edition.

Pepsi and Creative Writing
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:28:20 AM ©2003

When I was first starting out
With my creative writing class
Each morning without fail
I would open a bottle of Pepsi.

It was the “Choice of a New Generation”
And a great way to start the day.

I was babbling nonsense most of the time
And Scribbling down
Various Inanities.

This was the world as I experienced it.

Radio Steve
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:37:49 AM ©2003

Radio Steve is an awesome friend
When he has time he talks to me
He came to visit Christmas 2001
And brought me a big bag of Candy.

His mother father aunts and uncles
All work very hard
They are a very industrious bunch
And his sisters are very talented.

Steve graduated Oswego
And Lived in New York (Where I Visited)
And worked for a TV Station
In Public Relations.

Now he’s a newscaster
Full time at the biggest News Radio Station
I don’t doubt he’ll go far
After all he’s shaken hands with the mayor.

Spike Lee Joint
By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 6:27:56 AM ©2003

Hey How Long Till That Next Spike Lee Joint?
That Last One Had Me Bamboozled.
I was Looking Forward To Something From Him Soon
I Heard He Was Working On K-Mart Ads.

I Want To See Something Hip And Fresh
Like Do The Right Thing
Or He Got Game.
Denzel Spoke To Me In That One.

When’s The Next Time I Get To See
A Portrait Of An Aspiring Clocker
Who Escapes The PJ’s.
Like Some One From A Juantana Vera Dream?

When’s The Next Time I Get To See
The Fury And Ecstasy Of Summer Of Sam
Played Out In The Hot Summer
Of A Cooling Movie House.

Bring It On Spike
And Let The World Have It
Because We Need To Hear Your Voice
Bring The Power
To The People.

The Bills are on the Wire
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:15:48 PM ©2003

The Buffalo Bills
Are On The Wire
They’ve Got the hookup
For their Playoff Berth.

They are a demolition truck
With Wire and Adams
And they rip grass
Like Wasps with Reed.

The next team doesn’t stand a chance
With Bledsoe at the helm
And a killer running back
Like Reliable Henry.

I can see them land hooking
Into the Super Bowl
Possibly knocking out Oakland
Or Running Over Tampa.

Do you see what I see?
The Class Presidency 1990
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:35:52 PM ©2003

I stood up on a table
In 1990
To try to get people to vote
For me to Be
Class President.

I was running against
Eugene Williams and Tiffany Pisa
I thought If I won
It might turn my luck around.

Coach dragged me down
And pulled me by the ear into his office
And I got the lecture of a lifetime.

I was demolished in my white pinstriped suit
But I only narrowly lost
At least I can poke fun at that.

The Curtain Doesn’t Open
By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 8:26:24 AM ©2003

The curtain doesn’t open
On This production
Until I yell
And The Lights Come Up.

The Premiere Screening
Will Be Danced Upon
By Winona Ryder
And Johnny Depp.

The Story
A Raver In 93
An Allen Town Recovery Alcoholic
A Computer Tech in 95
A Student Graduated In 98
Web Published By 99.
A Political Maven In 2000.
Clean 10 Years In 2003.

It’s Nothing To Sneeze At.

Can You Say You’ve Pulled The Gamut Of The 90s?

I’m working All The Switches Now

Jim’s Running The Projector.

Look Out 2004.
The Matrix Is Done.

The Greens are In The Brocoli
by Christopher J. Bradley

The Greens Are In The Brocoli
And The Spinach
Of A Spanakopita
And the Lime
Of Old Fashioned Kool Aid.

The Lake Of Ophelia Is Green
And She Is Purple In The Water
But Hamlet Survives
Until The Task Is Complete.

“The Renegades of Funk”
by Christopher J. Bradley
9/27/2003 1:14:58 PM ©2003

The Renegades of Funk
Are here among us
And inside us.
We are changing the face
Of the planet
In the eternal groove
Of Pirate Radio
On Hip Hop Zulu Nation
With Voodoo Television
And Nitrous Exhalation.
I have them on my wall
In a collage of classic and modern cars.
And they aren’t going anywhere
They’ve just elevated in a stock split
And the unsettled pavement
Is going to rise like riveted Astroturf
Under a spiked heel.

They Say Don't Make Fun Of The War
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:34:47 AM

They say don't make fun of the war
It's hardly telling though
Whether we'll win or lose
I suppose the only way to know
Is if I'm not dead tomorrow.

What of my cafe?
What of my favorite place to eat?
What of my freedom to speak?
And read and write in public?

They're praying for me now
I'm a little helpless harmless one
But they didn't strip me of my flex.
Then I'm Stir Crazy
Like a bat eating a pregnant spider
Or a cat eating that bat
As it flies low
Or a Dog Chasing that cat up a tree
When they have to call in the police and fire.

The cat owner's sanity will be tested.

So they say don't make fun of the war
Nice Try.

This one looks good
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 9/30/2003 2:20:05 AM


I stumbled upon this link while doing some work
On getting all of my e-mail sorted
And I began to wonder
Maybe there’s something to
Substance over form.

It’s all just a part of
Mike Cevers Growing Pains
I suppose.
Because Believing In Something
That Isn’t Real

Can Only Let You Down.

Video Games
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:30:00 AM

To me Phantasmagoria
Is a video game
Hardly an artistic endeavor
But then
There can be beauty in the graphic.

I think Ghost Stories are the most telling
They tell of Ancestors trapped on the human plane
And that is where the thought
Of possibly being able to talk to them
Once again

Might be a beautiful thing.

Whatcha know about Jam Master J?
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:10:57 PM ©2003

What do you know about Jam Master J?
I know the story of Rock Meets Rap.
I know how to walk this way.

“But that boy’s white?”
You say.

And I Say
I grew up a Native American English
Syrian Lebanese and Welsh thang.

I’m kind of a mix
And Jam Master J
Knew How to Mix It Up.
I Won’t Forget him for it either.

The Jam Master knew how to rock it to the Bourgeoisie
And he’ll still be bangin’ kid
On the other side.

Whatever Peyton
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:39:52 AM

Whatever Peyton
You won two
Let me clue you in
To the pressure of my teams
And Kansas City
Have all also won two
And it won't be long
Before you have to face one of them.

Plan on getting sacked.

Battle Chess
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:22:53 AM

Battle Chess
was my generation's
Wizard's chess.

I watch as Ron sacrifices himself
In Harry Potter's game
On the television in the living room

And I think
Wouldn't it be interesting
If an Attraction like that

Found it's way into
The Oz of my hometown.

Defenders of The Crown
9/17/2003 7:56:53 AM ©2003

There were four of us
Ryan Martin Tony And Myself
Back Then We Believed
For King and Country.

In The Dark Ages of The Commodore
We Jousted
We Hurled Cattle
And We ate Pizza.

The Nights Were Long
Like Tonight
And The Soda Was Cold
And We Were Innocent

We Were All The Light In The Darkness.

Glenn and Rori
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:45:41 AM ©2003

Glen and Rori
Visited me in the Park
On The Picnic Afternoon
During Which Jason the Wolf
Showed Us Skateboard Tricks
On The Roof Of a Cooler Chest.
He Almost Ended Up With A Face Plant.

We Had Guns Containing Disappearing Ink
Called Zap Its
And We Chased Around Like Fools Trying To Soak One Another
With Water Balloons.

Tammy Was There To Keep Me In Good Spirits
If I wasn’t the host
I’d have snuck off with her somewhere.

Nobody Remembers That Afternoon better than I.

Jimmy Abodanzza
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:43:21 PM ©2003

Jimmy Abodanzaa was Jim Menkenna’s friend
I spent some time with these two in detention
One specific day being the day I stood on the table.

He was a fan of IRON MAIDEN and Madonna.
He was good at drawing Grafitti
And his father used to own a photocopier.

Jimmy Abodanzaa was smarter than he let on
And today stays in contact with Kelly who had a bonfire
In her back yard two years ago.

He is a New Yorker as well
But seems more reserved now
And more in control of things.

I am glad to see this in him
And wish him only the best.

Jimmy Menkenna
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:39:16 PM ©2003

Jimmy Menkenna was one of Rob Brown’s friends
I can and will venture to say he was the most visually talented artist
That I ever met in high school.

He also played guitar and liked to listen to keyboard music
He ended up in my art class one year
Where we designed plates and made clay sculptures.

When I ran for president
He drew Bart Simpson posters for me

I hope he is doing well right now in New York.

By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:48:16 PM ©2003

Karen was Rob’s girlfriend
She was a check out clerk for Super Duper in High School
That was where Rob Worked Too.
We spent time at Karen’s House On The Back Porch
On Some Dark Summer nights
Playing Drinking Games
And trying to make Playing card Pyramids.

Karen played many mind games
With Rob threatening the worst
Of terrible things at times
But she always kept her Neurosis quiet
To The Rest of The World.

Rob Could Handle It
He Was a Skater.

Psychosis Catch 22
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 9/17/2003 11:46:30 AM

I wrote my greatest work
While out of control
Some would say
“that’s cliché’”

But tell me
If it hadn’t been for
DNA and synaptic sizzle
Perhaps the artist wouldn’t have discovered his art.

Heller knew
And even though I never read him
I saw the movie.

And two hours of Trauma
Can last
a lifetime.

The Bicycle Was Freedom
9/17/2003 8:17:32 AM ©2003
by Christopher J. Bradley

After bike camp
My legs were ripped.
The bicycle was freedom
On a whole other scale.

I could ride all the way out Military Rd
To Visit Tammy
Or ride the other direction
To play RPG’s with Ryan and our friends.

10 speeds and flexible brakes
In those days were all I needed.
I had been used to carrying a spare tire
Just for emergencies.

What a trip it could have been
If they’d had small cell phones
In The 80’s.

The Front 242 Concert
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:03:18 AM ©2003

The Fall of my Senior Year of High School
I took Charlene Rob And Karen
To Toronto to see Front 242
We arrived late and missed the opening band.

It was at the Concert Hall on Yonge St.
We stayed in the balcony for the entire show
And watched black leathered Slam Dancers
Have at One another
Under the glow of the video Screen.
CGI was new then.

We used to think Car Crashes were cool.

by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/29/2003 11:59:22 PM

Today I drive down the Eisenhower expressway
Our city has always had yellow busses
And always will.

I see them in the morning
At the school
And I see them in the afternoon

As I drive to lunch.

Late in coming
The executive had prevailed
In establishing

The truth of the law.

Beige Zoot
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:33:30 AM

Back in the days
When kicks were the filet
And jazz noodled into your ears
My Zoot fit was Beige.

It was a riot
And Not Quiet
And the Horns went BeBopaloo.
But right to this day
In the place that we stay
We go global like a foot soldier troop

With 2 Pat on the Sears
And Steve O on the Gears
And Mike Setting the Tempo of Grind
With a Cancer Researcher
And His Friend The Med Boarder
And myself in the pages of time

My beige zoot
comes with a helmet
So don't think I'm not well put
When you find me out on the front lines.

Birds Encrypted
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:24:11 AM

My birds
Have ION cannons
And are moving
With the swiftness of
Aerosol chased

They are woven
In Traffic
With My Disks of Mishkal
In the heart of Alabama
On the Edge of Florida's Tropic Launchpad.

The O rings are burning
For My Two Fallen Shuttles
And The Skies Are Afire
With Their Grey Afterflare.

May The Raptors Avenge Them
On The Court of the Nations
While Carter Receives His Report
From Dashcle and Shumer.

I have seen the power
Of Air Force ROTC
And I have dedicated my statements
To Cool Vaughn
The Chicago Regulator.

Bob Hope
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 7/29/03

Bob Hope
Joins Bing Crosby
And Danny Kay
Heroes And Entertainers
Of An Era From The Last Great War
That Could Sing
And Dance
And Make Comedic Gestures
That Would Set Our Hearts Alight
Here’s To Their Christmas In The Stars.

Flexgrip You've Served Me Well
by Christopher J. Bradley
(C)2003 9/30/2003 12:31:33 AM

Through endless hours in lecture mayhem
And notetaking to the brink of extinction
You have carried me to the other side
To the place where the inkwell runs free.

Today is the beginning of a new mission
And I have you to share it with
Barring interruptions
And there is a new evening light
Shining through my sky blue curtains.

Let the Festival begin
And the acrobats and jugglers
Jesters and Mimes
Chase Through Victoria's Secret
With a Dog (Make It Small)
While The Man Under The Street
In Harlem Practices Politics
In The Age Old Impotent fashion
of those with their feet stumping
Mississipi with Kerosene.

Let The North Wind Blow South
And Freeze The Dead Brass Balls of General Lee.

We AMERICANS will live free.

Francis Scott Key
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 8/30/03

The other morning I had a discussion with my father about Francis Scott Key. I was amazed to
remember that he was a poet observing the battle in 1812 from a ships deck while watching the
explosions arc over the battlefield which is one of the reasons that we have fireworks on the
fourth of July today. Step forward a few years and every night we have fireworks at 10 o’clock
over the falls. It’s almost as if we are celebrating daily the events of that fateful battle for
independence and it’s impact on us all. The battle rages on. Today a bomb went off in Iraq
threatening to stir the entire country into turmoil further hampering our efforts to secure the region and making the situation that much more deadly for our troops and fellow Americans abroad. I strongly urge anyone to support the position of getting the United Nations involved but rather than as an aggressor a peace keeper. A good friend of mine whom I have included on the list tonight who is well versed in History reminded me that Einstein said that the war following world war III will be fought with Sticks and Stones because there will be nothing else left. I would tend to agree with that thinking considering that with the nuclear arms race still in full swing we are at greater and greater risk of potential global catastrophe.

I believe that in the days ahead if we take careful account of our actions and believe in our
creator as a compassionate one we may yet have a chance to extend our survival factor as a
species. Extinction is nothing new to the Earth. We need to be concerned about it now.

I believe the aims of Pat in his conservation efforts are noble and just and would like to
encourage him to step forward as a pioneer in the field and to write as often as possible regarding his interests in politics green ethics and the current affairs of avian creatures as they know when it is going to get cold. Winter is coming soon and it won’t be long before many of us want to climb under a blanket and do nothing but watch TV and eat Kettle Corn.

I have been riding my stationary bicycle lately and am losing a little bit of weight. I actually fit into a 2x shirt yesterday that I bought from Urban street gear. I have also been seeing my doctors and lawyers lately and my parents have acquired a car for me to drive. My friend Jerry actually caught the fact that it was missing an oil cap and saved me driving the engine right into the ground the first week. I really appreciate his helping me out with that and I am glad I have made and kept his acquaintance over the past year. Many people may think that it is strange that I would continue to go to Toms to visit the people that I do there but I have made some friends in the Buffalo community that are pretty bright and talented people and I am proud to say that I know them.

I miss times spent with Ryan and some of the other people I used to spend more time with but I
think that Ryan has more ability than I do to travel and get himself involved in follies of an
international nature than I have at the present time with some of the things that hold me to the
ground. Right now those include my finances.

As of December of this year if I have not succumbed to some untimely circumstance I will have
cleared up every single one of my outstanding debts to a collector or creditor. I have looked into
things and I should be at absolute zero and gradually climbing. I do not intend to fall back into my old patterns again and I can use all of your help and support to keep me busy and away from doing compulsive and foolish things. I have decided that I definitely have some issues to work on that require multiple forms of counseling and I have agreed with my current doctor to undergo more therapy with trying to discuss the problems that I have encountered over time.

Some of the good books I have been reading lately have been Charles Dickens “Great
Expectations” as recommended by Steve Schnepf (who has currently been accepted Full Time at
WBEN) and Orpheus Emerged by Jack Kerouac. I have been trying to do some reading out loud

Happy Belated Birthday
by Christopher J. Bradley

Happy Belated Birthday Superman
Our New World Has Been Sailed To A Second Time
And Gerhig has played his 1500th consecutive game.

Tonight I was lost in the pages of the Sprorting news
And rifling through pages and pages of other people's work
On the poetry thread
Building silver wires in the hair of two flowerchildren's

We are all over Calvin and Klein's billboards
And we are making a monument to the Native Land
Converted to fields of Gold

In the Casinos
And Oil Fields of the Reservation
The Forgotten Lands

Turned toward the west.

I find Santana
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/29/2003 11:57:37 PM

I find Santana in a Jersey Record shop
And in a peace band at a Zappa Cover show
And in the brickyard
With the hip hop Nation.

Of a New New York.

Overcome The Challenge
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 1:04:53 PM ©2003

I heard Saturday’s Speech By Grey Davis
And I also heard the chants building
The winds are changing
And I can perceive foul wind from D.C.

Those of you in California
Lift up your voices
Say everything you can
To Stop The Insanity.

After All
If Reagan Couldn’t Recall
You should have to refuse a Recollection.

Bill’s Sunday Sermon of the Truth
Should not be taken Lightly
There’s Nothing Wrong With
Shaking Some Hands
And driving home your Stake
Before your House Becomes Divided.

I’m Pitching a Tent With The Hair Club For Men.

Ray Charles
by Christopher j. Bradley

Today is the man's birthday
That brought us the downhome
Soul Town
Electric Piano sound.

I find him in the same pages of history
That flow through Langston and Maya.
He is a man of the city
And a man of Chicago and New York.

He had eyes
And could see with his ears.
He was a man
If only I could aspire

To have half of his smile.

Rise Langston Rise
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:38:30 AM

Rise Langston
From the Ashes of The Delta
Take a Knee On The Graves of Your Ancestors

And pray that all of their children
Not Have To suffer times such as these

We are in the midst of the Texas oil war
Mr. Hughes
The Stakes are high
And The Pot Heavy
We need you to transcend your times
And bring us anew to the future.

I need my place in the sheltered
Coverage of the Waldorf Astoria
Help me cut these chains
Shackled to my mind
With Poison.

Rise Langston
And bring your harem of strong women along
And let them fight the good fight
Live Free or Return to the Past.

By Christopher J. Bradley
9/30/2003 2:20:39 AM ©2003

I feel like I went to Rome and back last night. I learned more about linguistics than I think I’ve
learned in a while. Specifically the linguistics of 5000 years ago. My friend that I talk to at Tom’s is extremely gifted with World History and it is interesting to note that he has been to Washington several times. I didn’t know that until last night. I really wish I could get more of you to come and meet him. Someday we’ll all be synched up though I guess.

I know one thing for certain. I am spending some mad cash in Tom’s when I have it. That place
has been a great asset to me. I have met all types of people there that I never would have met
otherwise and I see the people that work there as the friends that I don’t think I’ve had since it
became so clear to everyone that I was somehow imbalanced. At least they can believe the truth
of what it is like to have ups and downs. And these people are real people they have children
and families and lives and they deserve the same respect anyone would give someone who
works for Oxy or Delphi or any other business. Just because they don’t earn 20000 a year
doesn’t make them any less productive citizens for their work.

The world is made up of all types of people and killing and war is not a solution to any of their
individual problems. And I will hold that position to the end. I have heard the message and it’s not on TV. It’s in the bookracks of the library and if you can’t hear it you should find someone to help you hear it. We are here and we’re here to stay

Send The Packaderms Packing
9/17/2003 7:36:28 AM ©2003
by Christopher J. Bradley

Get a tree branch
And flick those huge hind quarters
You’ve done everything correctly
When you can say you’ve sent the elephants home.

They should be driven back to Texas
With a Tractor trailer hitch
Maybe they can fertilize
Some Ranchero Soil.

Cause They Certainly Ain’t doin’ Nothin’ for Us
Behind The Grinder.

I want my friends back.

By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:07:17 AM ©2003

Spies are the truest weapons of war
They act within the frame of what you think you know
Until you wake up
And find a dagger in your chest.

There are spies for all parts
North East West and South.

Northern chill runs up my back
Eastern Senators ruin my pocketbook
Western directors try to steal my eyes
And Southern spies are setting up for the kill.

Hell Thanksgiving’s almost here
Where are the scouts when you need them?

The Birth of an Empire
by Christopher Bradley

This morning
A child was born
That would strike fear into the masses
And grip an iron fist over generations.
We feel him today in Monday Night's Revelry
And we find him on the steps
Of our capitol institutions
And we feel the leaves wrapped around our foreheads
We feel the reeds move with his whispers
And the music purrs in Octaves through our headphones.
The calendar seeps into the blur
Of my consciousness
as I consider the wrath of his successors.

The Liberty Bell Cracked
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/31/2003 5:40:19 AM ©2003

The Liberty Bell Cracked In Pennsylvania
For Me It was Only 3 Years Ago
For Others A Long Time Back In History
And Yet Others Not At All.

The Bell Used To Rest Next To What Is Now First Niagara Bank
A Replica Anyway
When I was young
To Remind Us Of Our Freedoms.

I Remember Stopping By There And Looking Out At It
Through My Mother’s Car Window When I was Young
En Route To Round The Clock Restaurant
For Hamburgers And Cokes
With My Grandmother.

My Grandmother
On One Of Those Summer Afternoons
Gave Me One Of My Uncles Old Coin Carriers
It Was Metal And Could Be Attached At The Belt
He Used To Use It To Deliver Newspapers.

She Would Give Me Quarters To Put In It
When We Brought It Back By Her House.
I Regretted The Day I Was Unable To Help Her
And Thought A Harm To Her
All I Wanted To Do Was Read Her The Bible.
She Was Calmed By It That Night
Fearful Someone Had Broken In.

The City Can Be A Frightful Place At Night.
I Was 23.

But Then They Say
You’ve Been Told Not To Answer The Phone
She’s Paranoid.
Perhaps She Was
But I Knew People Who Were Stealing From Her
And I Never Had To Ask Her For Sypathy
I Wish I Could Have Expressed My Own.

This Past Year At Her Funeral
I Read A Poem About Her Wedding Dress
Photos I’d Never Seen Until The Day Before
The House Had Long Been Flooded Out.

And The Liberty Bell Cracked In Pennsylvania
Three Years Ago
Because I Had To Just Get Away From It All
The Mind Numbing Horror Of It.

My Aunt Is On The Same Rails.

War Equals Violence
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:36:42 AM

War equals violence
Shortening Violence to War
Makes It Sound Nice
Maybe I can clarify things

War is blood and children weeping
War is concussion bombs deafening old and young alike
War is murder and deconstruction of humans
With no regard for stabalization.

A victimless war cannot be won
The gunners in their turrets with their
Second day hangovers wouldn't have it any other way.

And that's speaking of the legal buzzes

War and pacification are not synonymous
See how they apply the Jihad to their turncoats?
We as global citizens
Must join hands and put an end
To not only war
But also purposeless terror.

Which I'm afraid to say War also perpetuates.

"We Choose To Go To The Moon"
by Christopher J. Bradley
(C)2003 9/30/2003 12:18:30 AM

"We Choose to Go to the Moon"
With A Spacecraft
Full Of Hallucinogenic Visions.

The Witchdoctor Provides His Insights
And Makes Us Ready For The Ascendancy
Of A New Level Of Drama

In The Taking Back.
Of The House That Always Should Have Been Ours
And The Disruptors Of Power

Will Be Disrupted Themselves
For All Power Belongs To The Omnipresent One
And He Is Not To Be Toyed With.

"We Choose To Go To The Moon"
They've Taken Us There Then
And They Are Going To Build Us A Tent There

And Serve Us Bottled Water
And Orange Juice
Straight From Florida

Enter My Covert Vortex
by Christopher J. Bradley

You have found my Ace of Spades
He is Ever Present
In Both Sleeves of My Jacket Pocket.
He Smiles Upon You All
With Both Jokers
In A Game
Where One Eyed Jacks Are Wild.

We Have Played This Game Before
But Humanity Has Always Triumphed
In All Of Its Splendor
Over A Lack Therof.

Good Regardless of its evenness in nature
Will always triumph over evil
And my Knights on the Dark Side
Will Rise Up and Win The Game
With a Good Defensive Parlay.

We Hold Down
Streets Blocks Zip and Area Codes
We Hold Down Nations
And Stations
And Global Communications Networks.

And We Are Americans
We Came Here To Stay
And We Came Here To Win.

Bears and Moose and Loons!
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 8:26:58 AM ©2003

We went on an exploration of the Northeast Lake System
About 7 years ago.
It was interesting
I went with Pat Alberto Arroyo Maria Lucia And Tatis.

Alberto and the Girls were Spanish
Having Arrived From Montreal Where They Were Studying English Abroad
Paid For by Anderssen Consulting.
It was Amazing To Talk to people From a different Part Of The World.

We Rented Our Canoes
And Purchased Lake System Maps
And Then Headed Out From Our Campground Into The Wilderness.
The Ducks and Loons Were on Our Horizon And You Could Hear Them In The Noiseless

We Traveled Like Indians Among The Jumping Fish and Surface Bugs On The Water
And the Splashes Kept Us Moist As We Traded Off Steering Duties.

About 4 hours into the journey I realized what a great deal of work it was going to be
As we met our first Portage
We emptied the canoes
And then carried all our equipment and the canoes over ground
Only to start again and continue on
To Our first Night’s Campground.

We did 2 Portages That Day.

At the campground we ate Peanut Butter and Jelly and Spaghettio’s From A Can

We had to carry Every Scrap of Trash with us
Lest the Bears Sniff It Out
Or The Preserve Become Littered.

We never saw a Moose
But The Idea That They Were Out There Among Us
Had Me A Little Spooked.

From What I had heard they are huge
At Night You Could Hear The Wild Dogs of The Woods Howl.

In The Moonlight
The Stars Shone Bright Against The Water.

We Pitched Tents Before It Was Too Late.
The Girls Were Conservative But Were All Over Alberto.
He Was A Man Of The World.

So We Slept
And Rose To The Excruciating Fact That There Are No Toilets In The Woods.
And That Workout Does Things To Your Insides.

Boston Lobster and Spade
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 10:56:17 AM ©2003

Ryan and I went to Boston
For Spring Break One Year
We stayed at The Comfort Inn
It was being remodeled and was cheap.

We went to several Irish Bars after St. Patrick’s Day
Because he wanted to see his “half of the city”

Some of the names of the places
Included Cheers The Purple Shamrock
The Black Rose and Kitty O’Sheas.
I Insisted On A Stop at The Arrow Pub (Across From Harvard).

Somehow we found with the patience of the night auditor
A good place to eat Lobster and For this I am eternally grateful to him.

For there was no other significant point
To the entire excursion.

Chaos Table
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:40:19 AM ©2003

I’m writing atop the chaos table
It looks good thrice a year
Right now it’s got everything on it
And nothing of immediate use.

I could unwrap the Wired Magazine
Or Sift through old newspapers
But Then if I were doing This
My pen would be silent
Contributing to the unrest.

I stare at sixteen cans of colored clay
And think back to art class
In high school and making little men
As though I had Zeus control
Of The Fates.

We all fall sometimes
To our portraits and portals
Mine just happen to be static
While the graying chalk face
Fades under soft white luminescence.

Cigars in October
by Christopher J. Bradley

I remember one October
Smoking a cigar on the front porch
To Scare the little trick or treaters
Away from Smoking.

I think I scared their parents
More than I scared them.

A Night On The Drift
By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 (c)2003

November 1996 Around The 22nd.
The Car Was Parked In
I Had 700 Dollars In The Bank
And 10 In My Wallet
I Went For A Bus Ride.

I Had 1 Sunglass Lens In.
A Topcoat
All You Needed In the Winter Chill
With A Sweatshirt.
The Buffalo Night Was Actually Pretty Warm.

I Walked In To The Homey Allen Town Café
From Niagara Street’s Stop.
All Of The Players In The Neighborhood Were There
The Chess People
The Teacher From A Numbered School
The Girl In Her Fatigues Fresh From ROTC.

I’m Watching The Television
Clinton Is On
Giving The State Of The Union Address
The Secret Service Are In The Aisles
And The Speech Is About To Conclude.
I Stand And Watch Patiently
To Make Sure He Leaves The Stage Safely.

Chip Is There
I Try To Sell Him One Of My 2 Watches
For Thirty Bucks
He Offers Me Five
He Complains To The Owner When I Refuse To Sell
I am warned that I will Have To Leave
If I pester The Customers.

I’ve Been A Good Customer There For 3 Years.
How Can This Turn On Me?
Catherine Walks In As I am Walking Out.
I Walk Down The Street To The Smoke Shop
And Buy A Carton Of
Benson And Hedges Special King Light Menthols.

I Walk Back To The Café
Set Them On The Bar Stool
And Offer The Cigarettes To Her As Her Wedding Present.
I am Escorted Out By The Owner
An Ambulance Is In The Middle Of Things
The Police Are There
I Am Hauled Away In Public.

There Is No Where I will Go Again
Like That.

By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 7:26:23 AM

My aunt and I
Took In Fireworks Friday
Down Under The Helipad
At The Trading Post
They Went Off at 10 PM
As They Do Every Friday In Summer
In Niagara Falls.

We Listened To The Articulate Piano Meanderings
Of Tori Amos
While The Blasts Rained Down
A Show Of Independence
In The Cataract City.
They Lit The Casino Night
Like The Exploding Depot In Supercop On Saturday Morning.

It’s Been An Interesting Weekend.

Five Subject Notebook
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 9/29/2003 6:34:45 PM

I used to write
Chemistry and Physics
And Global Studies
In These Things

They Were Always A Mess
With The Papers Falling Out
Of The Pockets
All Over The Place

And They Didn't Hold Folders Well

That's The Primary Reason
I Switched To Legal Pads
And Blank Folders
As Long As They Were Different Colors

Because Colors
Are The Spice Of Life

By Christopher J. Bradley
7/27/2003 6:03:51 AM ©2003

I talked to Frist last night.
He said that America Dominated in WWII through Attrition.
We were the only country to win a war and come home.
Sounds pretty significant.

While we are victorious in wars.
We suffered casualties.
Nothing said we should have to do that
And so He is of the opinion
That France is no good.

I can’t blame him.
You don’t see me reading about France.
France has had its moments.
But the moment it turned its back on us
Was the moment it lost its credibility on the stage.

Vivendi is going in the toilet.
No Surprise.
Hollywood’s Not going to put up with that shit.
Neither is Vegas.
Not that I am a subscriber to their connections.
I can barely scrape 2 cents together.

Think about it for a moment though
Would you want French Propaganda Streaming Into Our Theaters?
Let them eat it.

There should be a Microsoft pictures company
Someone who could show the world the reality behind the machine.
No one ever buys anything they can find for free.
It would be a justification for the world as we know it.
A true image of what’s really going on.
We are getting seduced by the machine
And it is drawing us closer and farther from one another
By the pixel.

Believe It.

Let them steal the title American Mohawk.
Make a Full Blown Action Thriller Out Of It
Whore It Until The Nation Bows To The Grace Of Daniel Day Lewis.

Go Cubs!
by Christopher J. Bradley

(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:26:44 AM

Wish I could decide
Between New York and Chicago
I like their baseball teams equally well
I remember walking at night
Past Wrigley Field
Headed for an old theater club
Called Medusas
Where they played
Industrial Music
By bands like Front 242
And Skinny Puppy
While I was there
I heard Two Beats Ahead
Who had a multi-media presentation
With Televisions
And videotaped performance clips
Of Atom Bomb destruction.

The Cubs will always be remembered by me
As Richard Pryor's team
Of Brewster's Millions
When he had the opportunity
To make as much as he could
By spending all that he had.
It's a wonder that things don't work that way

Green Tea and Bongos
9/17/2003 7:17:35 AM ©2003
by Christopher J. Bradley

On Allen Street
The 3B’s Café
Open Until Early Morning
Served Snapple and Mystic Teas.

Once I had a Tarot Reader
Look Into my Cards
They Never Tell You Anything
That You Can Recall The Next Day.

The Night That I tried Green Tea
I sat Playing The Bongos.

Into The History
Of A Grown Man In A Tie
Came The Heart Of His Tribal Essense

Even Though
It Was Nothing Like Dancing
In The Shrines Of Science.

Happy Birthday Charles
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003

Happy Birthday Charles
I am your Buffalo Soldier
I smoked my first menthol cigarette
One night when we were out and shining

Your daughter is a beautiful girl.
I hope she is married and happy
She deserves the best.
And she is probably very talented with Literature.
I am aware of her ability to understand
Even the most infinitely ingrained subtleties of Marley
From only our first meeting.

Ted would have known
Being from Hawaii with all of his
Macadamia Nuts.

Man those cookies are still good.
On all of the shelves of the Blackstone Starbucks.

I can hear the Evanescence of your Wine
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/29/2003 6:43:07 PM

Let the Angels wings of these words I send to you
Find you and bring you up from the depths of your miserable horde
And free you from the cantor of the rabble.
For you have been swarmed by the spirits that startle you from within and without.

You are beautiful on my TV screen
With your Jellyfish and Plasmatic ways.
You have fallen from great heights to reach me
When I was always there
And will always be.

Find me in the green Leaves of Grass
On a picnic blanket
Under a white balloon called Love
I can hear the Evanescence of your Wine.

"Just Because"
by Christopher J. Bradley

I remember that gift
I still have it in the closet.
I hope you learned enough to get by
Without me.

I could have been so much useful
If I'd just grown up before sinking my teeth
Into Chicago Deep Dish pizza.

Lexington Override
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 8:46:09 AM ©2003

When I went to Disney with my friends
I slept out in the Van in Lexington
There was no room for me in the non-smoker’s apartment.

I will not forget this fact
And even though Kentucky is the Blue Grass State
The Two Nights There And Back were Terrible

But Then
My Noting It here
Makes No Difference To Anyone Of Conseuqence.

Phone Numbers Rot
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/17/03

By now you'd think they would have
Worked out a way for point to point communication
That didn't require phone numbers.

Whe happens when you write down
A Wrong number?
Do you just lose that person for good?

Why do you get charged for an information call
If the number you request is unlisted?
This is theft and it is wrong
And it should not be tolerated.

Screw the phone line
Go Cellular Exclusive
And let the phone company eat it
when they try to tax you unfairly.


The Boy Scout Popcorn Sale Dinner
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 9/19/2003 6:30:20 AM
Last Friday

My mother and I attended
A dinner for training for a fund raiser
We had great rolls
Salad with Chef’s house Italian dressing
And very well spiced spaghetti

For desert we had French Vanilla ice cream

They were trying to promote an upscale sale
But my mother knew that her customers
Would never go for an eighteen dollar pack
So she opted for the lesser program

I was just glad to go along
I got some exposure to some of
The Erie county troop leaders
And I went home satisfied.

The Falcon Stamp
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/31/2003 5:09:33 AM ©2003

Three falcons flew across a postage stamps cover in the dead of night.
The writer momentarily looked upon the stamp
Before placing it on the envelope for the world to see.

The writer thought
Might the falcons have been discussing the Raptors of the Sky
Like Pterodactyls yet able to disrupt landmasses built by men
In the realm once only by them.

Or would they have been discussing how men talk
From those strangely shaped objects
That they carry in their pockets?

These falcons they might have been wondering about their own intelligence
Or the sky even higher above their window in the atmosphere.
Thinking of Voyager or Pioneer and the planets.
Are we really alone in this big oxide landscape.

The writer attended to the paper for a moment
And then sipped from his mug
Lamenting the loss of his lack of wings
And took a drag on his finger.

Someday the smoke signals will fly up to those heights
And the avians will find their mice
Skittering about in the gravel

And someday
The letter
Will reach
Its’ destination.

The Ripe Blonde Rose
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:12:58 AM ©2003

The morning was sweet
The sun dithered in through
My striped Yellow Curtains
And in the measure of an Instant
We were joined.

I thought all during this
Event of coupled bliss
Of the things I would
Share with her in the coming weeks.

She was my Blonde Rose
Her scent like that of a Ripe Pomegranite
If I were a rich man
I’d have given her Pearls.

It was no use thinking for tomorrow
As the sun glinted in her brown eyes
And we both gasped
Sweating together
In the cool of winter.

The Voice Mail Card
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 11:17:30 AM ©2003

Back when I was working at Computer City
As a Cashier and Stock Boy
I discovered the perfect Toy
It was a voice mail card.

As I Became A Salesman
And All of the Prices Fell
It looked as though I could afford It
So I went ahead and bought it.

The installation was easy enough
But using it as an every day item
Was kind of difficult
You would have to play with the mouse too much.

It was very interesting to see
This first generation of hardware work though
It was the only Prometheus of it’s kind
And it made me Breathe Fire.

Well Fed
By Christopher J. Bradley
7/26/2003 6:26:56 AM ©2003

Someone sent me some ugly pictures in e-mail today.
Not so much in the content
But in the presentation.
They targeted people who are overweight.

It wasn’t a nice thing to do
He knew I am overweight.
There is nothing I can do about that fact.
I can barely walk.

This man has no respect for other people
And what goes around comes around.
Some day he will get his due.
Maybe he’ll die fat.

White Board Lie
9/17/2003 7:21:28 AM ©2003

They suckered me
Oh yeah
They suckered me good
To The Tune of Fourteen Thousand Dollars.

And They Accepted My Check
With Hungry Eyes.
They Showed Off Your Whiteboard
Miracle Of Chicago
But When I Got There
Taught Me Fortran 77
And Told Me I’d Have To Shred Old Documents For Them.

No I Read Free
You Can Take Your Textbook Stores And Shove Them


May Eggs Fall Upon You
And Break!

Back Packer
by Christopher J. Bradley (c)2003
9/29/2003 6:32:58 PM

That's Him
Little Man
Walking Up The Drive
Backpack Strapped To His Shoulders

That's Him
Thats my Brother
Happy To Be
Out of School Again

He's Working Through
His Math Homework
Now Science
Now Spelling

That's him
Little Man
Sick of School Like Me
And Its Only The First Week

But He's Strong
And He's Brave
And He's My Brother
And He's Growing Up Like a Man.

By Christopher J. Bradley
9/19/2003 6:43:21 AM ©2003

Belief is a raindrop
Some might day they are God’s tears
But I see them as His message
That He hopes that we will get the message
The message of Truth.

The message that God will
Never again destroy man by flood
I saw it in the colors of a Brilliant Vibrant Rainbow
Across Niagara Falls.

The poet sings of the truths
Of the rainbow
As the tears of joy in the drama masks rain down his cheeks
Like a fountain
In the global amphitheater
Of the universe.

by Christopher J. Bradley

It almost seems like
Something greater than co-incidence
That the historical date
Of the first printing press in America
And the proposal of the Declaration of Independence
Line up on September 25th.

Maybe there is something to that whole
Word thing...
"Don't tell me what the Poets are doing.."
We've been writing all this time..

Early Morning Rising
By Christopher J. Bradley
7/22/2003 3:59:30 AM

Early morning rising
From the slumber of night’s stillness
And the cold of a lonely keyboard under monitor glow.
The birds make the first sounds of morning.
They invite me down to my stoop.
To whistle and chirp with them
In the daybreak
Full of drifting sunny clouds
While my smoke wafts up to meet them.

Tonight I’ve been reading autobiographical Kerouac.
And the coffee has settled on my stomach well with a Greek Salad.
There were discussions about cell phone plans and
Violent Tattooing in the coffee shop tonight.
I watched my friend fill out her books.
Some aboriginal Australians filtered in and out
Drinking Canadian Beer.

During those measures in front of the beat screen
I pop off a few lines of what it’s like to be alone
With the best option being a morning with the birds.
It’s as if they remember me from the Faire arcade days
When I would feed them on my lunch break
With whatever excess bread I would have
My Bible never far from my right hand.
They always accepted their gift
And fed their families well.

One of these days
Time will catch up with me
And I’ll get to reading Great Expectations
And the whole world will begin to gain clarity of a sort.
It will mean I’ll need to spend more time in bed
Even when it’s a lonely place.
I know the night time is meant for those who share it

But with the world at your fingertips
Haven’t I at least convinced you?
To share a moment…?

Don’t think twice about it.
We are empassioned souls in our own ways.
And I am sure
We’ll both find that right person
Because Death has no Victory
When Love has Conquered
On a turn

Of the Daybreak.

Lighten Up
by Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 9/29/2003

The world is a brighter place
Than a Bridge Over Terror
And An Alleyway Of Sex.
We have Rainbows Too.
And We Are Going To Make Them Shine
In The Smiles Of The Survivors.
You Can't Bring Me Down.
I've Got My Savior.

Lord You Don’t Have To Carry Me
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 7:31:56 AM ©2003

Lord You Don’t Have to Carry Me
I’ve found you
In The pages of the entire Library

When I call
You Come Into My Heart
Your Angels Abound
Thank You Lord
For Keeping Them Strong.

Like A Mighty Maple
In Autumn Or Spring Garb
You Stand Before Me
Your Leaves Scattering Me
To Where I Need To Be
To Find Your Path

We Are Not Forgotten Lord
You Have Shown Us That There Is A Brilliant Beyond
A Golden Sunset On A Path
Of Birch And Walnut
Carefully Tended by Squirrels
And Sparrows.

Ruby Tuesdays
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/17/2003 12:22:28 PM ©2003

One day I was shopping at Galleria Mall
For No Reason At All
I bought some small scented candles from
Yankee Candle Company.

I needed a place to sit and rest for a while
So I went into Ruby Tuesday’s to sit down for a while
And drink a Soda.

Tonight I met a good person who works there.
He prayed with me that the depression would lift.

Sending a good man on his way
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/30/2003 2:13:08 AM ©2003

When my acquaintance left the café
Rather then immediately preach at him
To go with God
I chose to leave him with something I thought
He could immediately understand
Being that he has something of
A belief in chance
Which in my opinion
Is a lesser sin than vanity.

I call it the parable of the Roulette wheel
He is concerned that he won’t meet the right woman
So I told him
That the Roulette ball only spins for a finite period of time
Before it lands and locks into place
Meaning that at some point in life
He is bound to find his mate.

And then I flashed him a sign of Peace.

The Hands That Stretch The Rainbow
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003 9/30/2003 12:08:16 AM

Love is in the birth of the Sun
Of The Hands that Stretch It
Across the Dancing Mists of The Air
While We Sit In Boats
Fishing In The Cool Waters
Of The Saint Lawrence
As Innocent Children
Of The Coming Digital Age
And When It Is Here
Our Children
And Brothers
Will Outlive Us
To Carry On
A Message Of Joy
In The Truth
That Those Hands
Will Not Crush Us
Under The Seas.

Thursday Midnight
By Christopher J. Bradley
9/19/2003 6:38:59 AM ©2003

Natalie Merchant sings over Star 102.5
I’ve met Joe again
And he is calm and collected
Considering the awful treatment
His old employer has given him.

A guy like Joe deserves better
Hopefully the coming weeks
Will present some new and prosperous opportunities for him.
I have said a short prayer for him.

Dear Lord
Please help Joe secure a creative job that can afford him
Happiness and good health and bring him the fortunes
Of a respectable man. Thank you lord for your guidance and assistance
For Joe.


Very Nice
by Christopher J. Bradley

Miracles Happen Every Moment Of Every Day
With Every New Child Born
Onto A Special Event Horizon
Take For Instance
The First Child Of Each Year
Whose Life Is Entered
In A Wash Of Fireworks.

Believe Me
We Are Not Only All Miraculously Born
But Chosen
To Do The Good Will
Of Our Creator.