
I can hate life
And I can hate me
And I can hit you
So you will hit me
No laughter, no hope
Just sock in the eye
You looking for hurt?
Then I am your guy
by Richard W. Bray

I can hate life
And I can hate me
And I can hit you
So you will hit me
No laughter, no hope
Just sock in the eye
You looking for hurt?
Then I am your guy
by Richard W. Bray

Let Me Tell Ya’
Cinderella:
Let me tall ya’
Her prince is one happy fella
Ichabod Crane:
Don’t lose your brain
Enough to drive a guy insane
Frankenstein:
No friend of mine
Scarin’ people all the time
Hercules:
Golly geez
He can bench press eighteen trees
Mother Goose:
On the loose
With stories for the kids to use
Winnie Pooh:
How do you do?
Got some honey just for you
Charlie Brown:
Don’t be a clown
Kick that football. Don’t fall down
Mr. Ed:
He often said,
“Don’t make me glue when I am dead”
by Richard W. Bray

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

Carl
Sarah Fitzgerald
Sarah Fitzgerald and her brother Harold
Went to the park to play
But no girls nor boys and none of their toys
Could be found that day
For a monster named Larry and his cousin Jerry
Had scared them all away
So Sarah decided the two should be chided
And she had much to say
She marched to their dwelling, the one which was smelling
Of grime, garbage and gore
Though her brother pleaded, young Sarah proceeded
To walk right up to the door
Their uncle appeared, looking quite weird
Drenched in the blood of a boar:
“I’m not sorry to say that the two ran away.
They don’t live here any more.”
Harold told Sarah to leave it alone or a paira’
Dead youngsters they’d be
But Sarah declared that she wouldn’t be scared
By a monster or two, nor by three
Harold was prudent, an erstwhile student
Of monsters and their history:
“In Nineteen-oh-two they made a big stew
Of children like you and like me!”
Sarah was headstrong, “I will get along
With or without you around
And I’ll have you know that I’m willing to go
To the village where monsters abound”
Poor Harold followed, all fear he swallowed
As they journeyed to menacing grounds:
The City of Doom, a patch of great gloom
Where hideous creatures are found
As they entered the city where nothing is pretty
They suddenly started to hear
Wails and groans and hideous moans
Her brother quivered with fear
Several gargoyles and ghouls sporting boils
Grew increasingly near
Sarah’s pace quickened, the musty air thickened
But she knew her quest was sincere
An ogre named Carl said with a snarl,
“These two wayward youngins’ are mad
But here you are, you’ve traveled so far
Without your mum or you dad”
Sarah inquired, “Sir, help is desired.
Some monsters are making me mad
That hooligan Larry and his cousin Jerry
Have been cruel, naughty and bad”
The cantankerous ogre stared a cruel glare
And veins bulged out on his head
Harold shut eyes. The kid realized
The two were soon to be dead
Carl shuddered and shook. Poor Sarah couldn’t look
The air was frozen with dread
They thought he’d explode or perhaps he’d implode
He began to chortle instead
“My dear, I must say you do have a way.
That’s the best laugh I’ve had in a while
You deserve to be praised in various ways
For remarkable gumption and style”
What then ensued can only be viewed
As a case for the Odd Monster Files
(Folks who were there are likely to swear
That he even broke into a smile)
“You know, I reckon, someone should beckon
Those two young rascals to me”
This was no sooner said than the two lads were led
On a chain for all to see
They proceeded to plead that their dastardly deed
Was merely some young monster fun
The cousins then learned in quite certain terms
That their kid-scaring days were now done
Now Sarah’s revered and heartily cheered
Whenever she comes to the park
The children can play not simply all day
But even when it turns dark
Now Harold tells all that it was his call
To boldly and bravely embark
On that fateful day when two kids went away
To protect all who play in the park
by Richard W. Bray

I Tried
I tried to clean my chimney
But it covered me with soot
I tried to wire my speakers
But they smoked and went kaput
I tried to lift a dumbbell
But I dropped it on my foot
I tried to tip my waiter
But his pockets were all full
I tried to wear a sweater
But I’m so itchy from the wool
I tried to ride my horsey
But I saddled up a bull
I tried to wash my car
But it began to rain
I tried some jumping jacks
But that gave me a pain
I want to do what’s right
But it’s driving me insane
by Richard W. Bray
Frannie’s Fortress
Frannie’s best friend moved away
This made her very sad
When other kids went out to play
She stayed home with her dad
Naturally she felt her
Heart had hit a wall
So she sought herself a shelter
From torment, big and small
Frannie figured it was best
To keep her feelings gated
She’d build for them a fortress
To be locked and palisaded
She planned a sanctuary
Where a girl could find refuge
This stronghold would be very
Fortified and huge
She would make herself a maven
On battlements and forts
To build a bulwark and a haven
And protect her lonely heart
She’d defend her citadel
With fulltime guards on call
And no one could even tell
If she ever cried at all
As she began to write
In a notebook on the floor
Daddy was a welcome sight:
“You have people at the door.”
Sally, Ann and Mary
Came to see if she could play
They had themselves a very
Funterrific day
Daddy said, “I made some lunch
And all your friends can stay.”
The girls all drank some punch
And Frannie put her plans away
by Richard W. Bray

Walter the Wombat
Walter Wombat went to the store
To find his family some food
The sun was shining, and what’s more
He was in a wonderful mood
When Walter got to the market
The lot was nearly full
As he maneuvered his car to park it
He backed into an angry bull
The bull stepped out of its Audi
And stomped right up to his car
As Walter prepared to say, “Howdy”
He noticed it had a huge scar
This bull didn’t look real pleasant
So Walter prepared for a fight
That’s when a ring-necked pheasant
Marched right into their sight
“Of course, y’all don’t know me”
Said Fred with a glint in his eye
“But I was wondering who could show me
Where worms fall out of the sky”
The bull looked down at Freddy
As steam came out of its nose
And the little bird got ready
To defend against terrible blows
“You really don’t want to perturb me”
Said the bull with blood in his eye
“And it’s a real mistake to disturb me
When I’m about to gore this guy”
Fred said, “I do beg your pardon
I surely do hate to bud in
And I guess I should be startin’
Home to be with my kin”
The bull turned its head quite slowly
Offended by Freddy’s words
“Did you just call me Shirley, lowly
Ring-necked little bird?”
“I believe that you’re mistaken”
Said Walter ignoring his terrors
No bird should be forsaken
For simple linguistic errors”
“The two words surely and Shirley
Are a pair of homophones
So before you get hurly burly
And speak in angry tones…”
But the bull was through with talking
He began to snort and stomp
The world was suddenly rocking
This bull was ready to romp
The bull chased after the wombat
Who headed straight for the stream
He preferred swimming to combat
He had no wish to be creamed
They both ended up in the water
But this didn’t cool off the bull
Which pointed and reared for slaughter
Until he felt the pull
The current quickly took him
To an ocean miles away
The bystanders there mistook him
For a surfer who’d lost his way
This story that I have selected
Has a moral over for you to mull:
Always stay cool and collected
And never back into a bull
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
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Best Friends Forever
Sally and Kathy were Best Friends Forever
Till Kathy told Sally’s secrets to Heather
The girls are refusing to speak to each other
And Sally is home crying to Mother
by Richard W. Bray