The Mid-War Sessions Raw

The Mid-War Sessions
By Christopher J. Bradley
Completed: Wednesday, August 07, 2002
Foreword:
Thank you for reading, in advance, seriously. In light of the fact that fewer people are reading or voting these days, it is important to remember that the First Amendment should not be taken lightly, and that every person who has an opinion should learn to find their voice. I hope that my voice is loud enough for even just one person out there who might not be fully represented.
At present, the United States government is in a War with Terror. When will this war end? It is unlikely we will know soon, is the answer we have been given.
With the knowledge that we are all now given a global platform to speak our minds, I encourage you to share this work internationally, and to translate it. Perhaps by sharing in this way we might meet someday, in some words from Oasis as I spoke with a soul named Eva this evening “In a Champagne Supernova in the Sky.” I am looking to you for parcels of truth, just as you are seeking them from me.
Please join me in celebrating the life we live, even given the restricted freedom we have had in these carefully measured times, and let us all give thanks to those who have guided us toward spiritual enlightenment, in any peaceable faith known to man.
And for those of you who just like my ranting about the women I would like to meet,
“Make Love, Not War!” It works! Seriously! How do you think we ended aggression in every other circumstance? The time has come, for a booming echo of the booming echo. Let’s put on some Lenny Kravitz and “Dig In…You Know You’ll Have Yourself A Good Time!”
-Christopher J. Bradley
From The Fallen Rubble an Olive Branch Trembles
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 6:34:24 AM
From the Fallen Rubble
An olive branch trembles
In the grasp
Of the tear streaked eagle.
After the moment of calamity
Remains the silent voice of the enfuried survivor
To croak and groan in one voice
“Our war has begun yet it is not the answer.”
Tanks Amphibious Transports and Aircraft
All Are Loaded and Barrelled
The Treads grinding on bare earth
With Wings cutting Blue Sky
And Battlements Adrift on Dark Sea.
Beneath the waves are the Tridents.
Locked in Def-Con Synchronization
Prepared to fly given the command
“May God Keep NATO in Line.”
And yet the spirit lives on
In the corridors of corporate offices
In the audiences of the blockbuster screens
In the baseball fields of the Niagara suburbs.
In the smile of a happy engaged waitress
In the shoe stores and the outlet malls
In the Big and Tall Men’s shops
On the well lit Boulevard at dusk.
In the Blues Bars and Subways of Manhattan
In the Science Museums where the children run free
In the galleries of Art and Nostalgia
Through the radio and television networks.
In the International Space Station’s Labs
On the global wilderness of the Internet
On the tips of the tongues of the new millennium academic
In the grade school teacher’s lesson plans.
In the endless vending of cigarettes and prescription pharmacology
On Every dime or Quarter put toward a soda pop.
With Every bag of Microwave popcorn
And at Every Chippewa Sausage Stand.
It could be said that some boxes had been better unopened
John Denver’s little ball called war might never have been bounced
But as with every harmonic frequency
Friction will reduce the rippling
As the oceans of tragedy subside
And the Kingfisher finally discovers
A perch on which his branch
May finally come to rest.
Chi and The Art of Kawasaki Ninja Investments
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/24/02
They've tried to put me into reform school a couple of times.
I enjoyed the experiences immenslely
The fights over cigarettes
The stolen silverware
The whole shebang.
But I took a lesson from Chingachgook and the like
In silence to take my time
And in loudness to hammer the target with the whistling arrow.
They think you are stoppable when you move with slow feet
But they don't consider the weight too often.
Three hundred and sixty pounds creates a lot of momentum
A light car weighs only fifteen hundred.
And so I am a walking freight train
A wordmith with keys that lay down like hammers in the forge.
My sword will fit the gloved hand of a Marine
As well as it will fill that of any rogue poet.
I am going to rise above the curse of Hamlet
As I have a steel horse and he didn't
And take my Ninja to the edge
Of the envelope containing the Scrabbled market whips
Unending strips of ticker tape
Rattle unfettered
Beneath my toes
And the Iron Cage
Is truly made of little more than balsa.
For under the Osaka sky
There is a young girl
Who rides at sunset
Into the Banzai of a Chinese New Year
Her palm pilot hugging her leathered breast
With a screen flickering
Noisecontrol…
Noisecontrol…
And the Horizon falls behind her
While the rest of the world
Stuck in a UK panic
Wages war for her kind of freedom
And my name
Escapes her lips
In a warm embrace…
No Legacy for The Mainframe
11/22/01 3:02:53 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
Oh digital wonder
Your time is going
Far into the past
With the likes of the betamax.
Everything gets smaller
The cellular implants are nearly here
If not already.
And you can carry the Vax of the eighties
In your pocket.
Legacy
I laugh at you
As I build my way
Into a new century
Where time
Gets infinitely longer
As circuits micronize and binarize
Even your Goliath
Will fall to my David.
Are there parallel universes?
11/22/01 2:39:21 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
If there are parallel universes
Am I also writing there?
And is it possible to send a letter
To the past me of the present
To let him know that he is not alone?
Does his hand ache like mine?
As he holds the round pen
Scribbling as fast as I.
Has he typed played the piano
Discovered electronic music?
Has he taken photos of rockets
Or danced for five hours at a stretch
While eating oranges?
Who are my parallel selves?
Will they join me in my journey?
Or will I join them in theirs?
And what of our brothers in name
But not blood?
What of them?
May they all succeed.
Discovering A Lost Piece of Boston
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/18/02 4:39:02 PM
It is about 4:39 in the afternoon
And I find myself sitting in an IHOP
An International House of Pancakes
On Maple Road in Amherst.
I was told to look into this when I was here
Before I left for Boston
By Bearded Bob
At the time I thought the world of him.
His description had been dead on
They are clean
And Lively
And a last remnant
Of the pancake houses of days past.
They outlived Perkins.
And appeared here magically this year.
I am glad to have somewhere to come
With good music
And bean town personality.
Even though the power outlets are a stretch from the ground
Looks like I'll have to charge my laptop before coming over
But at least they don't mind it so much
They are one of the few places that don't mind them
And they have plenty of space to work with.
I anticipate I'll have more to say
After I have my Terryaki Mushroom Burger.
Higher State on a Tuesday
12/18/2001 8:32:20 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
“This Is The Higher State Of Consciousness”
I Listen To Josh Wink As I Type About The Week’s Events.
3 Visits To The Chiropractor
A Flat tire
A New TV
Dinner at the Super Buffet
A Lotto Ticket.
Seatbelted driving
A Trip to Andy’s
A Jack The Ripper Flick
Some Page Building Over DSL
A New Tire Purchase
Spaghetti
Pizza
A Tomato Sandwich
Donuts
Bannanas
A Chimichanga
Coffee Lots Of it.
Messages On Deja Noise Control and A Worldwide Café
Postings On Everypoet
Problems With Outlook Express and Netzero
Two Well Placed Letters To Yahoo Customer Service.
Complaint Call To New York State Insurance division
Several Calls To National Benefit
No Answer
Fax Attempts
No Answer.
Sleep Lots of It
Corey Hart
Sunglasses At Night
Calls To Andy Scott and Adelphia
No Connection To Any Of Them
Powerlink Signup And Lord of The Rings Happen Tomorrow.
I cannot share my deepest thoughts here.
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 5:43:32 AM
I cannot share my deepest thoughts here
Not among the endless cups of boiling coffee
And blues singers wailing on the radio
Not among the cubicles in neat perfect rows.
I look often for a place to bind to
For a companion to comfort me
Someone who’s toenails I could clip
After a bottle of champagne in a warm bath towel.
We would talk
And I would tell her how she hasn’t been
The only one I’ve ever cared for
But that she was the first to ride
By my side saddle in the new Mustang.
But somehow I think
The fantasy of that whole stanza
In the greater work of my ultimate comedy
Cannot be fate or destiny
For as I improve I find myself seeking
After something more tangible
An individual who can be all of these
Wild urban debutante Jennifer Lopez fantasies
But that yet I can trust.
The Horse Shoe Crab
By Christopher J. Bradley
11/22/01 2:44:50 AM
Dedicated to Robert Bradley
There were fish swimming everywhere at the Aquarium
All different kinds of fish
Spiny Alien Zebra fish like you would never see
In the Saint Lawrence by the docks.
And there was a seal who did tricks
And balanced a ball on his nose
To throw to the dolphins in the big central pool
Of the big blue circular building.
And an electric eel that shocked
My Dad and I
In the darkness
On the hour.
The event that I can still feel in my spirit
Is my encounter with the touch tank
Where I had a chance to play with the starfish
And the big shelled and spiky tailed
Horse Shoe Crab.
Creating and Organizing Lists
By Christopher J. Bradley
11/22/01 3:08:56 AM
I never would have thought
That organizing lists of items
In virtual space
Could be so interesting.
I have recently collected
A list of message bases
And lists of movies
And Recording artists
To place on-line
To enhance the value of my database.
As my library gets larger
Strange new opportunities might unfold.
I am already beginning to find fans in strange places.
One of them is a German racecar driver.
Who knows what is next?
Maybe I can get Gates to look down here
If I keep working at it.
The House that Jack in The Box Built
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/24/02
Dedicated to all of the would be couriers
Jack was a humble craftzman
He wore his Jester's cap
And Danced among the crowd for weeks
He tested the vibes of the product
And he liked it.
So he decided he would share it with his friends
And then found that they all wanted it
More people than he thought he knew
Started coming to him
So he started buying wholesale
And forgot about Peter
And the wood stacked up against the wind
But silicon was beneath him.
The market grew steadily
And after a while the house had a roof
Then running water
And a speaker section.
He had a Mercedes to get from home to the office
And a digital satellite radio
And the tunes vibrated at the edges of his ray bans
And the house was finished and sturdy.
Until the water came up the beach
And the Electricity that wasn't up to code
Blew the walls out in a blast of blue flame
And Jack's sports car exploded in the garage.
To see the look on his face
From across the ocean
As he wrestled with the sides of the box
Was like watching a mouse spin a wheel in a Habitrail.
And the music plays again
With each step
In the same boxes
On the same beaches.
Vaporware v. 1.0
11/22/01 2:32:41 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
From the gas station to the Bookstore
Or somewhere in between
I lost a pack of cigarettes
And now I want to scream.
But somehow in the midst of this
I've almost made my mind
Decide they're not the Ritz of it
Someday soon it's quitting time.
Potato Chip Breakfast
By Christopher Bradley
3/24/02
How many times have you
Found yourself
At 5 am
Munching on an open bag
Of Lays potato chips?
An interesting question.
French Onion dip is a delicious food
When you can find it on-sale
And someone doesn't get to the refrigerator before you do.
The container and the bag
Are perfect for snacking
When you don't have to worry about that troublesome extra person
That only seems to confuse you anyway.
Chips for one I say
In the darkness of early morning.
Let the paperboy earn his keep
And when he arrives tip him well
But don't give up the best kept secret
That one day he too will end up
With a bag a bowl and a nice big television.
Rediscovering New England in A Time of War
by Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02
And so today is the beginning of the new dawn
Of a time where the search for New England has been answered.
Quietly and with patience
I have discovered it.
It is hiding in the bank across town
And the church toward the river
And the café with the smoking lounge
And the bookstore with it's volumes upon volumes of common text.
There is myth that you have to find in the library
And spiritualism to be found through a maple tree
Or a pint of apple juice while shopping at the super market with your mother.
The apple does not fall far from the engineer.
In the community college the students sway
To the professor's hymns of economics or psychology
Running their fingers ruthlessly through each other's hair
Their joints break-stepping in Latin grooved Levi's.
The women and men and girls and boys
Move among each other in the freedom of the moment
Each with careers to pursue Or toys to trade
Japanese cartoons cards are popular among the children.
And a faintness of the birds and monkeys of Peru
Echo's up from the south via satellite cloud
While a hurricane of data washes the people of the moment
Throughout the Telesphere.
My homeland is slowly becoming a part of me
And I am accepting my place here
Proudly a twenty first century fourth generation Mohawk English
Sharing space with the likes of a spicy broth of brethren and sisterhood.
The ministers are not the only teachers of the young
They are just the most pronounced authorities.
We all learn from each other
And nobody really listens to the television alone.
I know that as I view my digital parchment
There are others awake in the early morning hours
Patiently waiting for their moment to bask in the summer sun
And find that we are all collectively important.
Our patriots triumph
In the playoffs and game of the century
To the parchment of Jefferson
And the pen of our Chief Executive.
If I alone could put an end to the evils to the world
I would make every effort on my own
So I ask Will you help?
And if so Can I shake your hand as a neighbor in good faith?
Finding an Old Friend on The Web
11/22/01 2:23:20 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
I found Pat's website on WorldTwitch
I was unable to find anything previously
Perhaps because I wasn't looking
I had been previously in my searches
Self concerned and not in expectation
of my friend's potential notorieties.
But now that I know what is possible
I will keep my eyes opened
A little wider
So that I might discover
Some more of my friend's successes
And add links to their publishings
To my list
So they can be there
Even in times when they are not.
How Her Fingers Danced
By Christopher J. Bradley
4/24/02
It was evening in the X-Ray lab
Of St. Mary's Hospital.
The air was cool outside
But I hadn't needed a jacket
For the long walk from the blacktop drive
To the steel cased entranceway.
There was no introduction
Just my name on a card
And some preliminary information about my spine
And within a few minutes
I was face to face
With the girl with dark hair.
She was like out of a memory
Clicking away at the keyboard
And I found it hard to look away
From her fingers
Snapping the Keys.
Individual Strokes to the plastic.
How her fingers danced
A Rhyhmic pounding
That would have been loud like a hammer
If they hadn't been dulled by the fans.
The Infared and medical papers
Swarmed around her as she wrote
In virtual space
Somewhere I hope to be
If this tapping ever ceases.
For a French Poodle
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/16/02
Dedicated to Pierre
Your fur crest
Rested high above your brow
When mom made you up
And you were brushed out right
Several times a year.
I remember how you walked
When your legs were straight
With a high stance
And soft shoes.
You danced
Not unlike Dixie Dust
But with more pride
In a white cotton moment
While the stones of our gravel driveway
Shifted under countless sets of new tires.
I will find you again
Dancing in her arms
When heaven reaches me
And she will introduce us both
To our Maple Tree
Which will blossom with fresh buddings
In the eternal Spring-time
Of Norwood's Winds…
As they race
To The Stars
Slowly Spinning
Above Our Home-yard.
Coreon Surface Pressure
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/24/02
Dedicated to Moby and S. Hannam
For what seems like centuries
You've kept us entertained
In a way that I would have liked to do my whole life
And the tension continues to build
As you leap to catch the five rings
That hold themselves fixed high above even you
In the stratosphere of the global village.
The battle call has been given
Flags fly high in every Nation of the world
And the enemy holds no post
While Jennifer Lopez struts on a passionate USO stage
We know that our struggle is both public and private
And the lieutenants in both sides are unseen.
So on this fifth anniversary
Of my friend's marriage
I reconsider what might have happened
If my car had never gotten stuck in the mud.
And I hadn't had a strange goatee.
On a cool and rainy march afternoon.
I felt like I stood alone in the midst of it all
Yet you were all there
Even those that I didn't know
And the music was still with us all
Vibrating under the tables
In the subways and headsets
Of the pedestrian streets
Of New York and Toronto.
Some say that the new media revolution is over
But I say it has just begun
For the few holding the strings now
Have to pass them on at some time
And what better time
Than when their children are churning up hay
From the muddy ground
On which we once tilled grain.
A piece of corn
Under the Nitrous enhanced lights
Of a summer circus tent
United our circle
And by the grant of the one who has called us to this earth
Will unite us once again.
There will be no regrets when we reach Oz
For the wizard will be revealed
And he will give us a heart a mind and a badge
And we will all find our own way to the place where we were raised.
Resources in a Bookstore
By Christopher J. Bradley
11/22/01 2:35:47 AM
Before I leave this place
I think I'll take in a page
And possibly finish my coffee
Which is larger than expected.
There are volumes here
Containing chapters and pages
Limitless
And yet I find myself
Making short strokes on legal paper
Considering what the future of the moment
might hold.
March 18th 2002
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/18/02
I don't believe I had noticed before
The drab looks on the faces
Of the college students
Of the region on March 18th more.
It was very noticeable this year.
Imagine the increase in consumption
That reliving that horrible day
6 months and 7 days earlier
Must have created.
Each of them looked like they were stammering
In a slow recoiling manner
As they stumbled on to the campus grounds at 8am.
And I do not wonder
That many still had it on their breaths.
What good would a peanut butter sandwich do
For lunch
When breakfast was at 4AM
In a pancake house
Or from a pizza and sausage vendor
Down near Franklin and Chippewa.
The Toxicity of March 17th
Takes away from the snakes fleeing Ireland
On that fateful day
Under St. Patrick's Stewardship
And I pray
That one day
The snakes will once again
Be cast out
Of the modern world.
MP3 Recordings at Andy's
By Christopher J. Bradley
11/22/01 2:58:23 AM
Andy has a powerful computer
He can run a high speed video game
While downloading music from the net
On DSL.
If I can I will visit Andy
And maybe burn a CD
If Favorites to mix into
Music CD's for my other friends
And family.
I hope he sticks around
To keep me updated on the latest technology
So that we can move forward
As the screens of the world
Become thin.
Cooper's Virtual Forest
 (Last of the Mohicans)
11/22/01 2:14:24 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
It breathed at me in the opening pages
And the English and the French
And the Native runners
And the daughters of the General took life.
Now I begin Chapter Two
And find that the story
Whose conclusion I know
Has left much unsaid
In VHS format.
I plan to journey into that forest
Page after page
Day after Day
Until I find myself surrounded
In the leaves of the paper
On which I write.
The Doris Day Movie
11/22/01 2:19:22 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
We turned the film on
On satellite TV
To keep my mother happy
On a day when my sister was leaving.
I found myself enjoying
The garden of Eden joke
And the psychedelic footage
That made the car chase scene
So patently not today.
Tide
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/18/02
I can actually remember missing laundry detergent
Having an urge to go out the store to buy it.
There is something in my current marketing class
That I need to understand
Why did I need it so much?
I've developed an innate need for the ridiculous blue colored liquid.
I use it to clean all of my clothes
Regardless if it is the type with bleach or not.
I've grown not to care about that.
For some reason using the crystalline powder that Purex offered
Doesn't fit the bill
Having both I would still choose Tide
And yet I do not understand why?
Ever since I remember washing my own clothes
I remember most using Blue Liquid
As a favorite.
Maybe it's because the crystals stick to your fingers
And all of my Chemistry classes taught me that when water touches that
There can be a reaction.
I have never tried mixing Purex with anything
But I do wonder at times what it might do?
Would it make orange juice fizz?
Not that you could drink it after that
But would it generate some kind of massive release of gas
Due to Acid and Base connecting in an unusual way?
To stay safe I think the best policy is to keep that crystal stuff outside the home
It looks too much like candy
And It can't be good for pets.
Who might get it up the nose.
The Tide has that neat bottle
Which keeps the blue juice upright
In that orange wave of a bottle
And it cleans like magic
Even those gnarly socks from last week.
So here's to Tide
And many fortunes
To It's makers
I'll keep surfing
Until your Wave Crashes Out.
Tangled Arms and Legs
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/24/02
It's been 12 years since that first moment
When I was so exposed
Found in the comfort
Of the caress of my bride to be
And then later
Drawn into the craze of a Canadian punk rock girl
In Red Blue Jeans.
Wearing a White Mesh fabric
That perfectly accentuated her perfect form.
The tangled arms and legs
Of a college summer
Contrasted with an underground winter
And the hamburger job that followed
Left me with the feeling that I'd given up something important
And that missing element then
Were my values.
I have now been able to carefully discern some of what they are.
And I am more cautious now when meeting these delicate creatures with their perfume
For they are not as delicate as they seem
They have their careers to think about
And the nail polish isn't for show.
It's kind of like sharpening your favorite blade.
Which in a sense I guess
Is kind of cool
But I need more than someone trying to get at my love from above
I need a level focus with them
And I need the tangle to turn into a union
With a proper dialogue
That doesn't come to an end.
Please
Whoever you happen to be this time
Let me hand you a rose
And I will remove the thorns
If you will put some Aspirin
Into the water.
Repaying Debts
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/24/02
As I repay these small debts
I wonder if I will become indebted again.
The time slowly trudges forward
And with it the expenses follow.
I have been given so much
And yet I find myself unsatisfied
With sitting in a room filled with life's toys
And furnishings given as gifts.
At a time when I am appearing in the newspaper
The shock value of it all keeps me awake at night
Watching Artificial Intelligence
And wondering about the significance of the quest for humanity in my life.
I was not born machine
And so I believe
If I can become more than an instrument of profit seekers
Possibly I can grow to brighten the world and my self-concept.
And so the question to be asked now is
Who do I begin my lending with?
So that sharing becomes more than
A glowing screen
In the darkness
Of night.
Pringles
By Christopher J. Bradley
3/18/02
They look like a bunch of people in a Pringles Commercial
Making faces about the fact that none of them can get to what's in the can
When in fact they could more than afford to spend their time buying another can
If they wanted.
They live in rented houses
Where they can smoke drink and do whatever else they please
Yet they have to come out in public
And intrude on the space of people
Who intend nothing more than to attempt to better themselves
Through text.
Damn them.
Those who can afford to live alone
Should be required to
And leave those of us
Who can afford only to live
Under the magnifier of public scrutiny
Out of the photo tube.
Buy yourselves another can of Pringles
And let me finish my damn cup of coffee in peace.
On Getting The Cat Stoned on Catnip
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 5:51:34 AM
I sit in the big black leather chair
In Andy’s Apartment on occasion
Watching Entertainment tonight
While he finishes up a video game.
I watch him follow the cat to the center of the floor
And somehow he can innately tell
That the intelligent Grey fur ball is
Asking for its fix.
The small cup on top of the television stand
Is loaded with the stuff
It looks like chewed up Grey confetti
And he takes the substance in his thumbs
And gives the cat a pinch.
The cat’s back arches to the to the floor
And it rolls its’ head and neck in the stuff.
It’s like an electrical shock to his disposition.
He writhes in enjoyment
Licking at his coated patches of hair!
And to think
This very cat
Single handedly
Burned out his
Computer Monitor
With fuzz.
Looking For The Right Girl To Marry
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/6/2002 7:04:54 AM
The Right Girl For Me
Would Not Be Interested In Substances
Or Shallow Conquest
Or The Pursuits of Fiscal Bondage.
More Importantly
Of She Would Be Actively Seeking Spiritual Enlightenment
And She Would Understand That I Enjoy Consumer Technology.
She Would Be Interested In Watching Major League Baseball
In The Skydome In Toronto.
She Would Enjoy Traveling To Visit Friends
But Her Goal Would Be To Live In Her Family’s Hometown.
She Would Require That I Be Responsible
And Give Me Plenty of Reasons To Stay Healthy
So That We Could Enjoy Long Fulfilling Lives
She Would Tolerate My Many Musings Over Science And The Infernal Machine
And She Would Be Romantic And Poetic
And Enjoy Candle Light Dinners.
And She Would Sing To Me
Just Every Once In A While
Even To The Radio As We Drive
She Would Bake Cookies With Children At Christmas
And I Would Carve The Pumpkin On Haloween
And She Would Have Good Conversations With Me
Not Expecting Me To Be As Intelligent About People As She Would Be
We Would Write Out Birtday Cards Together
And Find Our First Home Together
And Share Moments
That Know One Else
Would Have To Intrude On.
Except of Course The Dog
But He Sheds So Who’s Counting?
Gyros and Dreams about Gyroscopes
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/6/2002 6:58:13 AM
For Each Passing Day
That Passes On and On
I Wish Again and Again
That The Gyros Wouldn’t Be so Tempting.
And While I sit Here
Drinking Coffee And Smoking Marlboros
Given To Me By A Friend
Who Fills Out Crosswords
I Find That I Am Deeper Into
The Mindset Of Studying War Vehicles
Than I Would Like.
And That Every Turn A Veteran or Ex Veteran Approaches
I Am Glad to Know However
That I Am Not Alone In My Musings
Over High Tech Fighter Planes
And Other Miscellaneous Elements of Hardware and Software
I Do Wonder However
Who Will Be Receiving
Their Orders
Next.
Which Edge of the Universe?
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 6:07:52 AM
Which edge of the universe
Will we travel to from Hollywood this year?
Will we journey into the outer reaches of Vega?
Or will we travel smashing back to Earth on a hurtling Asteroid?
Will we survive the next potential Nuclear Winter?
Or find ourselves in the depths of the Atlantic on a caterpillar drive Submarine?
Will we find ourselves along the fault lines
Of a living Mars?
Or between the Loops of Jupiter?
I believe that these tested markets
Are ready for a fresh perspective
Another Fantastic Voyage
Perhaps among the Synaptic Surges
Of The human Mind.
After all
We are in the midst of the connection
Between Man
And Machine.
Physical Therapy
11/22/01 2:28:14 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
Perhaps the best thing that could have happened
In this whole travesty
Is the physical therapy.
I am finding myself walking more now
Even though my back is sore
And I am also finding myself
Stretching and excercising more
In an attempt to heal.
My excercises include wall slides
Shoulder pinches
An exercise bike
And stretches on a theraball.
I have been able to lie on my stomach and read
For the first time
In a couple of years.
Walter and The Moon Buffet
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 5:59:32 AM
It’s about a year ago summer
And we’re walking into the moon
A Chinese Buffet on Sheridan
My Mother My Aunt and I.
And I spot him there as we are seated
The half Cuban half Puerto Rican Pizza Chef
Back from The Allen Town Days And Sal’s
He’s having a great time with his friends.
I wish I had the physical time
And instance of circumstance to get up
And ask him how he’s been doing
But I don’t.
I hope he doesn’t recognize me
Instead.
But he remembers
And after all of the Emperor Chicken
And Pork Fried Rice And Mussels
He does say hello to me.
As I am smoking in the front
Waiting for the ever resilient ladies
In my life.
The Bubble Tea Café
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 6:17:10 AM
At the advice of a couple of
Asian Raver Fraternity Dudes
And A Girlfriend
I Ventured Into The Bubble Tea Café.
The Place Was Very Toronto
Stylistically – Lots of Fashion and Car Magazines
Lining Its’ Racks
And Tables.
For 3.15 I had a drink
Whose name I can’t pronounce
Made by a Thai barkeep
Who told me about the tapioca balls
At the base of the cup.
It tasted like an Iced Cappuccino
With the added benefit
Of the Consistency
Of Tapioca
A memorable taste
That I will have to try again.
A Message From God in Webster
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 6:22:36 AM
I drove into Webster on a clear Saturday morning
In my beat up ’99 Saturn.
Hoping to find Jodi
After a Stop for a Juice and and English Muffin
At the Princess.
I successfully avoided a run in with a Pimp there
He was harassing the waitress
Trying to act like he owned the place
And surfing through newspapers with his girl.
When I left cautiously
I headed down Main Street in Webster
Planning to stop at my friend’s home
But on the way there
The voice on the radio said
In a blaring and triumphant voice
From the depths of everywhere
“Mustangs!….$299.00….Webster Ford!”
So I stopped at a Friendly’s along the way
And bought a bagel and got directions.
I was the first customer to drive up
And walk into the showroom
To negotiate.
The salesman was slick and savvy and Italian
From the final price we worked out
You might think I’d have bought a Ferrari
But I am convinced
Every Minute I drive into the future
That the voice of God has visited me
At least once
In Recent Days.
Ambulation in Amherst
11/22/01 2:09:42 AM
by Christopher J. Bradley
After speaking with my therapist
I decided to go for a walk again
As prescribed.
The walk was more relaxing today
There were fewer people
And I thought about Christmas
As I passed the singing Bears of the Boulevard.
I stopped to charge my cell phone
And buy a pack of Milds
And now I sit listening to Bing Crosby
At the bookstore café
With a pen and paper
As I did a year ago.
Holly and Glitter Leaf
By Christopher J. Bradley
11/22/01 2:51:15 AM
People decorate each Christmas season
With Holly and that indefinable metal coated leaf stuff
That hangs at the center of wreaths
On front doors.
And they buy and give candles as gifts
Oh what we wouldn't do without candles
Candles can be wrapped with that silver stuff also
And centered in bunches of evergreen spines.
To be placed on holiday tables
For Thanksgiving and the 25th.
The candle without ornament
Would still symbolize life
But with ornament I believe
Is a designate of our value for life.
May the candles keep alight
And the doorsteps keep bright with tinseled decorum
As we shine through this holiday
Regardless of the whims
Of those who would try to change
Our way of life.
One World Indivisible
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/6/2002 6:48:17 AM
Nation Upon Nation
Democratic or Otherwise
We Are United Under a Common Mission
A Statement That All Life is Worthwhile
Regardless of Moral or Ideological Position
Mindless of Pigmentation or Enlightenment
That No Man Woman or Child
Should be Un-Necessarily Sacrificed
In The Pursuit of Greed for Power or Wealth.
That Every Living Species Both Plant and Animal
Might Be Considered The Most Valuable Contribution
To Our Spiritual Harmony.
For It is not without caution
That we should proceed Ethically
To Preserve The Greater Goods
Of Health Prosperity and Spirituality
For Every Member
Of the Global Citizenship.
We pray to our heavenly advocates
That they might bring us closer to
Spiritual purity and vision to protect
And Nurture Future Generations.
That The Saga of Our Home Planet’s Histories
Might Be Told
Long After we Have Passed Into Spirit!
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