Just an old-timey foolio
Goofing off in schoolio
I could love you trulyo
If I got a chance
Words by Ira sung by Sarah
Paradise atop a stair, a
Geezer's head without a hair, a
Planet lonely for romance
What's New? by Cannonball
Autumn Leaves by Miles
The Very Thought of You by Wynton
Winsome winding wishful dance
by Richard W. Bray
Laughter like a desert spring
Perfection like a flower
Smile like a meteor
Shelter like a tree
Spirit like a forest
Brilliance like a star
Endurance like a mountain
Mystery like the sea
Refreshment like a rainstorm
Compassion like the sun
Beauty like a gemstone
Out of reach for me
by Richard W. Bray
I'm just a singer with some words
I rearrange the ones I heard
Town to town with my guitar
Nightclubs, honky tonks and bars
Love and longing, greed and pride
Dreams and jealousy collide
Sing it happy, sing it blue
Tell a tale and make it true
Let's sing a love song to the world
Full of happy boys and girls
Can't stop the misery with a song
But it sure beats dropping bombs
by Richard W. Bray
When truth melts your delusions
Like a pair of wax wings
Tumbling through your head
Go a thousand random things
Daily fabrications
Avoiding with a sigh
Things that you might notice
When you walk instead of fly
Peering down from clouds
Such a curious location
What one mistakes for clarity
Could be dissociation
by Richard W. Bray
You learned to hit a curveball
From another kid's dad
My tale is endless woe
A monument of sad
You can cuss me, you can curse me
You can put me in my place
You can slam the front door
In my stupid f---ing face
Every volume on the shelf is a song about myself
My whole universe is me and my shameless rhapsody
I thought freedom was heroic
It was just a cloak of lies
Only fools are gonna mourn
When the hallucination dies
I got no right to be proud
Of the man that you became
My only solace in life
Is that you bear my name
Every volume on the shelf is a song about myself
My whole universe is me and my shameless rhapsody
by Richard W. Bray
A lifetime of enchantment
Is all I ask of you
Dreaming of impossible
Because it's what you do
Tether me to heaven like the stars across the sky
Feather me with comfort and your lover's lullaby
Free me from a thousand woes
My flesh cannot endure
Shelter me with sunshine
That flows from you so pure
Tether me to heaven like the stars across the sky
Feather me with comfort and your lover's lullaby
You can be my proof rock
Solid as a stone
Even when we're miles apart
I'll never be alone
Tether me to heaven like the stars across the sky
Feather me with comfort and your lover's lullaby
by Richard W. Bray
There were always babies at the bus station and they were always crying. And these were not mild complaints. I couldnt understand how the least discomfort could take the form of agony. No other creature was so sensitive. The more I thought about it the clearer it became to me that what I was hearing was rage…
The rage of children seemed inexplicable other than as a breach of some deep and innate covenant having to do with how the world should be and wasnt. I understood that their raw exposure to the world was the world.
You dont think this is all a bit fanciful?
I do think.
How would a child know how the world should be?
A child would have to be born so. A sense of justice is common to the world. All mammals certainly. A dog knows perfectly well what is fair and what is not. He didnt learn it. He came with it.
—from Stella Maris by Cormac McCarthy
You're gonna wonder why
As you wander on your way
The unfairness of the world
Will make a body rage
Don't be scared of words
Watch out for stones and sticks
You won't get blown away
When you build your thoughts with bricks
Perpetual injustice
Is an insult to the soul
Evil is eternal
Resistance makes us whole
A thousand paths before us
So many ways to live
It's a wicked wicked world
When we forget how to forgive
by Richard W. Bray
The fish wasn't fresh The server was late The "hand squeezed juice" Was frozen concentrate The peas were canned It was domestic cheese The Chardonnay was warm And they didn’t let it breathe I’m such a good person. Can’t you see? The world depends on people like me To maintain decorum and decency The movie was dreadful The plot was stale The acting was wooden An absolute fail The mountains were awful The snow was cold It smelled like pine The rocks were old I’m such a good person. Can’t you see? The world depends on people like me To maintain decorum and decency The novel was stuffy A disgrace to the arts The story was filled With boring parts What a hideous house And don't call me a hater Somebody oughta kill The decorator I’m such a good person. Can’t you see? The world depends on people like me To maintain decorum and decency by Richard W. Bray
Dance, dance, for the figure is easy,
The tune is catching and will not stop;
Dance till the stars come down from the rafters;
Dance, dance, dance till you drop.
–W. H. Auden, Death’s Echo
Laughing in the face of evil What else can you do? Hold on real tight To what’s good and close and true You can only forgive What was done to you Everything else Is left to You Know Who The mind makes hell from heaven It makes heaven out of hell Own the space inside your head And keep yourself well A lot of things will happen You don't always have to tell Live your own story It's not a thing to sell Wish everyone the best Play your own part And dance every moment To the song in your heart by Richard W. Bray
I spent a whole lot of years In an imaginary race Learning to ignore What was in front of my face Forty-seven lies And a bottle of gin Tell yourself a story Every time you don't win I lived a sprawling dream I signed above the line Took a spin around the world With my head in my behind Forty-seven lies And a bottle of gin Like I never even saw All the places I've been Like a good little soldier I had a happy little life While every nephew and his uncle Took a turn with my wife Forty-seven lies And a bottle of gin I wonder if my son Is my next of kin Built myself a mansion Then I tore it all down When your whole life tumbles It barely makes a sound Forty-seven lies And a bottle of gin Tell yourself a story Every time you don't win Forty-seven lies And a bottle of gin Tell yourself a story Every time you don't win by Richard W. Bray
Laughter hope sock in the eye's Blog 