Archive for September, 2019

I’m too old to be such a dumbass

September 29, 2019

I’m too old to be such a dumbass
Someday, I’ll pay
For each one of my sins
Catting and carousing
Till daylight
St. Peter’s gonna
Curse my silly grin

I’m too old to be such a dumbass
I’m sorry for
The selfish things I done
I left a trail of heartache
And hurting
I gotta say
I had a lotta fun

I’m too old to be such a dumbass
I’m about to bust
My weary frame
It’s too late for any excuses
I spent a lifetime
Shifting all the blame

I’m too old to be such a dumbass
I feel bad
For all them things I said
I’ve always been
A real late bloomer
I’m gonna change
Right after I am dead

By Richard W. Bray

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all the rythms of life

September 26, 2019

So it is in life—from sun, to moon, to earth, to night, to day, to you getting up in the morning and going out to play a game of ball. All the rhythms of life are in some way related, one to another.
—Langston Hughes, The First Book of Rhythm

That basketball was like a basketball to me.
—Basketball Jones

I toss it in the air
And sometimes it goes in
I share it with my friends
And get it back again

Shooting hoops alone
I’m never in a hurry
It’s easy to be me
Pretending I’m Steph Curry

Playing all day long
Till every muscle hurts
Pounding on the asphalt
Till we’re covered up in dirt

by Richard W. Bray

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Posted in Langston Hughes, Poetry, Poetry for Kids, Sports | Leave a Comment »

how many children did you kill today?

September 21, 2019

Washing out the spot
That never goes away
How many children
Did you kill today?

Staring at the basin
In all your distress
What happens in your head
Is anybody’s guess

Now you’re making speeches
Reciting practiced lies
I wonder what’s behind
The empty in your eyes

Where does it come from?
The hunger that devours
Destroying whole countries
For a little taste of Power

by Richard W. Bray

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Posted in If it sounds country, Lyrics, W.H. Auden | Leave a Comment »

but you’re not me

September 16, 2019

if i were you were you were you
—Wanda Coleman

If I was you
I’d grow out my hair
And tuck my shirt
In my underwear

If I was you
I’d get me a tan
I’d drive a red truck
And drink like a man

If I was you
I’d get a good job
Stop dressing like a fool
And looking like a slob

Stop acting stupid
Making up your rhyme
Get outta bed early
Chew thirty-seven times

you say a lot more
than you ever really do
who ever said
that i wanna be you?

by Richard W. Bray

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fake, fake smile

September 11, 2019

You’re a mean little phony
From your head to your shoes
The fake, fake smile
Of a fake like you

Your tongue is infected
Like the words you spew
The fake, fake charm
Of a fake like you

There’s a blade in the back
For everyone you knew
The fake, fake friendly
Of a fake like you

You said we were perfect
You’d always be true
The fake, fake love
Of a fake like you

Everybody learns
And now I know it too
The fake, fake heart
Of a fake like you

By Richard W. Bray

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everything that’s worth a damn is gonna hurt like hell

September 7, 2019

some say the most important thing is to calmly talk about your depression. wrong. the most important thing is to throw sand in its eyes, beat it with a sock full of quarters, then toss your depression in an Arby’s dumpster
—Beth, my spiritual adivsor

There ain’t no happy place
Where good times always last
You need to grab your misery
And kick its little ass

There ain’t no place to hide
There ain’t no happy pills
Don’t make up stupid stories
To wish away your ills

There ain’t no easy road
There ain’t no magic spell
Everything that’s worth a damn
Is gonna hurt like hell

Beat the blues down
When it bears its ugly head
It’s coming back again
Every day until you’re dead

By Richard W. Bray

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