Willie Wystan Widdershins
Craves a crooked course
A crazy road is best for him
But not his baffled horse
Willie Wystan Widdershins
Goes East to journey West
And to his wife’s chagrin he
Makes three rights to take a left
Willie Wystan Widdershins
Often ends where he begins
Going round in circles
Like a fish without fin
Willie Wystan Widdershins
Is guided from within
He wears a happy grin
Always going where he’s been
by Richard W. Bray
You’re nasty, unnerving, disgusting, and icky
Revolting, repellent, distasteful and vile
You’re ghastly and grody, repulsive and sickly
You’re someone that I must live to revile
You’re not worth my time and better forgotten
You’re rancid, repugnant, rude, and morose
You’re hellish and horrid and morally rotten
You’re loathsome, disturbing, horrific and gross
You do not agree with all my presumptions
You’re heinous and beastly, obnoxious and wrong
I roundly renounce your detestable gumption
A mental asylum is where you belong
by Richard W. Bray
Money don’t live
And Money don’t die
Money don’t love
And Money don’t cry
Money and power
Money and fame
Money trumps Hearts
Money wins game
Money seeks money
Money gotta grow
Money burns hot
From down below
God hates money
I know it’s true
Look at the people
He gives it to
I walked barefoot to Alaska
Hoping I could please you
And with every single step
My resentment grew and grew
Gave up everything in life
Just to make you happy
So it’s totally your fault
That I feel so crappy
I’m a walking sacrifice
I carry my own cross
There’s masochistic gain
In every single loss
Existing just for others
Is how I seek contentment
I keep a full account
At the bank of resentment
by Richard W. Bray
You can’t send a box of sunshine
You can’t buy a pound of poise
You can’t purchase piles of pleasure
For deserving girls and boys
You can’t load a truck with love
You can’t take a piece of peace
You can’t give a ton of trust
To your nephew or your niece
You can’t hold a heap of hope
You can’t grab a jar of joy
You can’t harness all the happy
That your family might enjoy
You can’t find a font of freedom
You can’t choose a can of cheer
You can’t collect abstractions
But they exist when they are here
by Richard W. Bray
You said that
I was boney
You can’t ride
My pony
You said I
Was a fool
Don’t swim
In my pool
Neener Neener Neener Neener
Neener Neener New
You weren’t nice to me
I won’t be friends with you
You said that
I’m unstable
Don’t come sit
At my table
You said that
I look funny
You can’t
Pet my bunny
Neener Neener Neener Neener
Neener Neener New
You weren’t nice to me
I won’t be friends with you
Maybe I
Should try again
Do you wanna
Be my friend?
Dippy Dippy Dippy Dippy
Dippy Dippy Dappy
Give someone another chance
And you will be more happy
by Richard W. Bray
Skweeples aren’t people
Their foreheads are blue
They eat with their noses
And talk with them, too
Skweeples aren’t people
They laugh with their ears
They sleep upside down
And cry purple tears
Skweeples aren’t people
Their bodies are green
They play in the swamp
And they hate to be clean
Skweeples aren’t people
They live in old cars
They drink stagnant water
And eat lice and tar
Skweeples aren’t people
But they love each other
On Saturday night
They all call their mother
People aren’t skweeples
That’s easy to see
I don’t bother them
And they don’t bother me
Skweeples are skweeples
They do what they do
They belong in the open
Not locked in a zoo
by Richard W. Bray
Why swagger, then?
The Gnat’s supremacy is large as Thine —
—Emily Dickinson
I’m an influential person
I’ve got important things to do
I have a giant office
And I don’t have time for you
I’m an influential person
I am big and you are small
I have a slew of little people
Waiting at my beck and call
I’m an influential person
People do the things I say
If you aren’t here to serve me
Then please just go away
Pardon my existence
I don’t mean to waste your time
I’m here to serve some papers
You’ve been accused of heinous crime
Some of your endowments
Are certainly excessive
But your wisdom and compassion
Are not at all impressive
It’s a silly, silly man
Who does not realize
There are no little people
And souls don’t have a size
by Richard W. Bray
You live awhile
And then you’re dead
And everything
You did and said
Disappears without a trace
Welcome to the human race
Your days will wither
Down to dust
In wind and rain
And fire and rust
Stars burn hard
And then they’re gone
Their residue
Goes living on
Fire breathes
And ashes give
The universe is
Dust that lives
by Richard W. Bray
I was born to be a grownup
And I really dislike
The senseless sound and frolic
Of a gaggle of tykes
I’m a serious man
I do serious things
Got no time for games
Got no songs to sing
The stupid mirth and vigor
Of a roomful of youth
Annihilate my comfort
Like you’re drilling my tooth
I’m a serious man
I got books to read
Can’t tolerate those noisy
Little buckets of need
Living in a world
Of squalor and pain
Kids can make amusement
But it’s not very sane
So cut the happy hoopla
And the hullabaloo
Be serious like me
And miserable, too
by Richard W. Bray
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