american
bombs
courageously
dropped.
everybody
feels
great
here.
imperial
justice
keeps
liberating
manifold
nonhumans.
only
pacifists
queasy.
reality
shows
transmit
universal
values.
we’re
xceptional,
you’re
zapped.
by Richard W. Bray
Tonight
In every bar
Drunken alcoholics speak
Of friends who really have
A drinking problem.
by Richard W. Bray
I’m an old curmudgeon
I get older every day
Got no time to spare
Get the hell out of my way
I’m an old curmudgeon
Don’t give me no crap
I’m mean and I am cranky
And I’m late to take my nap
I’m an old curmudgeon
Get off of my goddamn lawn
Holding on to every inch
Until I’m dead and gone
I’m an old curmudgeon
I’ve seen what life can do
Here’s a brand new dollar
Go and buy yourself a clue
I’m an old curmudgeon
And I have to stay on top
Sinking is just dying
And I’m not about to stop
I’m an old curmudgeon
I keep barreling ahead
Reflection is for cowards
And rest is for the dead
by Richard W. Bray
Like we Love our Kids
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
We broke some stuff and made some noise
We love our soldiers like we love our kids
Methods and motives are better left hid
Nothing’s too good for our girls and boys
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
Missed every birthday, but I always did
Send a little box of love and joy
We love our soldiers like we love our kids
The mighty don’t fall so much as they skid
Lives and countries have been destroyed
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
Love ain’t cheap, so what’s your bid?
Can’t you see how much we spend on toys?
We love our soldiers like we love our kids
War and kids: Patriotic joy
Up too close they begin to annoy
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
We love our soldiers like we love our kids
by Richard W. Bray
George Orwell
Auden and Isherwood
Manly War Romancer
Auden pronounces War is murder
Mister Orwell has a hissy:
Do not scorn the deeds of men
You damn, limp-wristed sissy
Orwell ran to join a war
Chris and Wystan sailed away
Orwell took one in the throat
But lived to write another day
Does this poem have a moral,
A message, or an answer?
Gladly lust for life unlike
A manly war romancer
by Richard W. Bray
Pride
If you don’t say you’re sorry
We’ll never speak again
And you will be so lonely
Without your favorite friend
I have my pride to think of
It makes a man a man
So I hope you’re on the brink of
Doing what you can
To drop your petty grievance
And put bygones away
You could be so happy
If we could go and play
by Richard W. Bray
Peripatetic Paul
Peripatetic Paul went to the mall
He went to the beach and the zoo
He went near and far in his very own car
Still he found nothing to do
by Richard W. Bray
Considered alone they’re simply two foots
But together they make up my feet
They endure wherever I take them
This pair is hard to beat
Daily I pound them with pressure
And each time I walk down the street
The entire weight of my body
Comes crashing down on my feet
Cruelly I encase them
In sandals or stockings and shoes
At home I keep them in slippers
Protecting from fixtures that bruise
I wasn’t designed to walk upright
But you won’t see me swinging in trees
I’m resisting all primeval yearnings
To return to the salty old seas
Supporting my frame for a lifetime
They’re loyal and faithful and strong
Through corns and fungus and bunions
My friends keeps moving along
I’m planning on keeping my tootsies
I’ll treat them with kindness and care
Publicly now I salute them
This most deserving pair
by Richard W. Bray
Adoles-Sense
Dad said my room was messy
So what’s a girl to do?
It’s a pity, but I guess he
Thinks he can tell me what to do
You’ll forgive my not extolling
Someone who doesn’t have a clue
I’d say the man’s a tad controlling
And he has ego issues, too
Of course, my room’s a private matter
Just like my mother’s cigarettes
She should be thankful that her
Kids don’t follow those footsteps
Nobody’s perfect, is all I’m saying
Please respect my point of view
Or I will tune out all your braying
Nobody tells me what to do
by Richard W. Bray
The Decider
I stepped into the river
It was wet and it was cold
My bones began to shiver
Just like I had been told
I stepped deeper in the river
And it didn’t get any better
I felt my body quiver
And my clothes were getting wetter
I kept descending deeper
And it didn’t feel so nice
I’m a plodder, not a leaper
But it felt as cold as ice
I continued on my quest
My parents did not raise a quitter
I would not fail this test
But the chill was getting bitter
I did not question why
As hypothermia numbed my brain
I’m not the kinda’ guy
Who is threatened by mere pain
They found my body on the shore
No more frigid quests for me
No more chances to explore
No more Brave New Worlds to see
It is true that I am dead
And it’s too late for revisions
But it never can be said
That I don’t stand by my decisions
by Richard W. Bray
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