Marketing to Millennials

wonder if my grandparents
had the sense of humor
to sign up for a seminar:
‘marketing to the boomer’

like the greatest gen and boomers,
gen x and now gen z
just another ‘gen’ in the pipeline,
or so it seems to me

in between selfies and sexting texts
who knows what they will buy
should we market to the boomers
or take our chances on gen y?

the old gen dies, it’s gone from view
boomers pass to millennial
does one gen ever welcome the new?
i wonder if, any will

© Copyright 2016 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

The American Dream

i woke up
from my American dream
things no longer
what they seemed
what was right
and proper then
relics now
of way back when
human kindness
in short supply
people so
impoverished
why?
how did things turn
so far around
to a time of delight
as others fall down
there must be a place
like the ones
i once knew
sanctuary please
is a dreamscape view
i woke up
from the American dream
and if i couldn’t sleep
i’d surely scream

© Copyright 2016 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

GRATITUDE’S LATE ARRIVAL

you’ll never know the price we paid
to get you where you are
you’ll never know what it took
to carry you along this far

so if your lack of gratitude
is some strange way of giving back
we’ll check the rear-view mirror
until your attitude’s on track

we will love you from a distance
as we have now all these years
in time you’ll learn life’s lessons
of pain and loss and tears

and when you finally know gratitude
for all that’s been done for you
may you know what real love means
before karmic bills comes due

farewell my child we let you go
it’s your life please–go ahead
may your dreams come sweetly true
in spite of all the horseshit you’ve been fed

© Copyright 2016 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

ALL THAT’S LEFT

in time we sip the finest wines
meet the wisest souls
we linger in love’s sweet bouquet
avoid the rocky shoals

the tide will try to pull us under
life will wrack and gnaw and grind
until finally we discover
the battle waged was in the mind

mountains scaled; a life fulfilled
time adds up as memory scatters
i realize now it’s all distilled
into what really matters

© Copyright 2016 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

i’ve thought a lot about death of late
how life and lives are so finite
it’s best to leave dead things dead
a focus on living seems only right

oh we can try to resuscitate
if there’s even a shred of life left
but i’d rather leave dead things dead
focus on living if for a time bereft

what else in our lives is at a last resort?
what do i behold just this one time?
i cherish each for i know time is short
karma’s glacial pace sublime

i let it go, sanctifying the space
knowing something better will take its place
perhaps i can really let dead things be
savoring each sweet memory

© Copyright 2016 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

REDNECK STRONG

up to my ankles in horseshit
i’ got bills piled up to my ears
truck payment’s due tomorrow
jest drank m’ last six beers
but i git along

the repo man’s got my number
he’s already heard my sad tune
guess i’ll pawn me somethin’ tomorrow
long as he gits paid by noon
redneck strong

i can find ‘seng in these hollers
them choppers cain’t find my weed
i can turn corn into dollars
on land i work ‘til I bleed
and keep comin’ back at ye’

so raise a glass
kiss m’ confederate ass
we’ll be the ones survivin’
strongest souls i ever know’d
lives right here and they’s thrivin’
in Appalachia

got a year o’ deer meat in m’ freezer
got a yard full o’ cut ‘n split wood
i got a whole war’s worth of ammo
my survivin’ skills ‘r damn good
on this land my forefathers stood
it’s here in these hollers i belong
here i can live, redneck strong

you might not like our point of view
best proceed at yer own peril
redneck nation still stands strong
y’ain’t got us over some barrel

we understand work and makin’ our pay
we know if we don’t
then we aint eatin’ that day
and i can fix anything
that don’t work
least i’ll damn well try

so best think about what it means
when you call someone that name
cuz we damn well earned it
you’ll never know what we overcame
redneck my ass, right back at ye’

seems we got a whole country
that’s hell bent on dyin’
smartest souls i ever know’d
lives right here and they’s thrivin’
in Appalachia

i’ll never let ’em git me
never let ’em come for my gun
just biding my time
git’n along just fine
we don’t call 911
here in these hollers
is where i belong
livin’ the dream
redneck strong

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

RELIGION COLLISION

sparks fly
poor children cry
amid religion’s divisions
people die

doctrine seems to matter
more than lives
what if we disagree
so nobody dies?

what if we gave
just a smidgen
invoking
no religion?

keep faith
free of paradox
giving peace
to each other
instead of gored ox

sitting smug in our pews
intolerant of views
that are foreign
full of derision
beyond religion

intolerance’ off-spring
came home to roost
laser-guided reminders
evil is loosed

militant jihadists
dreams will come true
when death is the goal
the drones are on you

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All rights reserved.

Slàinte

there are matters in a lifetime
that never seem to mend
like broken hearts and let-downs
or when good things have to end

so we leave the hurts behind us
move further down the road
hearts grow stronger on the way
lifted up as each we unload

life goes on–it’s all you can say
new joys arrive in every day
lives are richer for those we’ve known
and the souls touched along the way

in the end we focus on good things
no regrets shall have their due
when we recollect only sweet things
as our old lives fade from view

and if you’re at the final service
raise some whisky in your glass
celebrate your life well-lived
the critics can kiss your ass

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All rights reserved.

Lame Poetry

Lord deliver me
from lame poetry
from cloying phrases
that are sickly sweet
don’t quite rhyme
miss the beat

Lord spare me from mediocrity
especially the over-wrought
terse trite holier than thou verse
what could be worse?

Lord deliver me
from lame poetry
from admonishing verses
that look down from on high
to us heathen souls
who live and die

Lord deliver me
from lame poetry
instead, give me poems
that move my soul
that shake my bones
that rock and roll
that ask the questions
i never frame

Lord delivery me
from poems
(including my own)
if they be lame

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

ME AND YOU

his step unslowed
his shoulders unbowed
his eyes still somewhat blue
he feels the passing years go by
as finite days come into view
a Sisyphus pushing
against time, defiant
he strains to move
the rock of age
his strength grows weaker
the rock more giant

her step unslowed
her back unbowed
her beauty still shines through
though she knows the toll
that life can take
and what’s been lost
in it’s swirling wake

two hearts beat on
against time’s tide
with scars incurred
from a wild ride
kindred souls
through time
and space
approach the golden stretch
of their human race

they know each other
forever true
all they have
invested
in their sacred trust
me and you

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

January 1919

There’s a bit of bacon in the teeth
And the mud is squelchin’ soft beneath
A pullin’ out of Couddes in the rain.
The same stone street in the same damn way
With the same dead drill to do today,
A hikin’ outer Couddes in the rain.

It’s light packs, helmets and gas masks too,
With a drinkin’ Sarge to drive each of us through;
Soldierin’ outside Couddes in the rain
I’d give my shirt for a decent smoke,
I’m tired and I’m stinkin’, wet and broke,
A drillin’ outside Couddes in the rain.

There’s slum to-night and my feet are sore,
Why ain’t I gettin’ my mail no more?
Squad’s eastin’ beyond Couddes in the rain;
The poplar’s black agin the sky,
The Skipper’s cursin’. God knows why
I’m pluggin’ outside Couddes in the rain.

A long hike home when the day is done,
The mist may lift and we’ll see the sun,
A comin’ back to Couddes in the rain,
I’ll bum a bottle of rhum to-nite,
And a little brunette to treat me right,
A comin’ out of Couddes in the rain.

© Copyright 1921 Brooks Bradbury

[ Coudes is a commune in the Puy‑de‑Dôme department in Auvergne in central France. My grandfather, Brooks Bradbury, wrote this poem while stationed there during World War I.]

Precious You

beneath neon skis
of powder blue
precious you

two lifetimes yet
days too few
precious you

on darkest days
a beautiful view
precious you

fireflies dance
in evening’s dew
precious you

a crooked road
a waltz for two
precious you

through it all
i stand by you
precious you

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury

Maple Road

there was a home that held all i wanted
a girl, two sons, one very human dog
i wonder if that house is ever haunted
by the great love i gave that catalogue

if a high heat my absent heart still throws there
be fixed and focused by time’s burning glass
a gentle fragrance should forever blow there
and flowers sparkle gaily in the grass

there is no need for flame or warmth of fire
no rosy hearth to cheer or snuggle by
there burns the sum of all my soul’s desire-
it was and is and will be till i die!

(An excerpt from the anthology “Backlash”, published by my grandfather, Brooks Bradbury, Copyright 1982, Southbury, Connecticut. Maple Road, in Pleasantville, New York.)

When All the Lights Turn Green

when the time
is right
and it’s time to go
to seize the day
you finally know
new horizons
calling
to places not seen
as the past
becomes a distant view
when all the lights
turn green
adventure lies
in moving forward
before they change
to caution’s glow
ride the wave,
be brave live on
face life’s
ebb and flow
new horizons
are calling you
to places
you’ve never seen
the past becomes
a distant view
when all the lights
turn green

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury

Being at Odds

i was at odds with the world today
and it was at odds with me
it didn’t go where i wanted it to
nor was i where i wanted to be

i’m going to call it an early night
to try and break the spell
out of sorts i can hardly think
please let tonight go well
so tomorrow we’re back in synch

i was at odds with the world today
and it was at odds with me
it didn’t go where i wanted it to
nor was i where i wanted to be

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

Insha’Allah

don’t tell me it’s about religion
all i see is evil on the rise
violent false bravado
in a madman’s mad disguise

so keep your eyes to Allah
so you’ll know when the time is right
to kiss your jihadi ass goodbye
when the drones fly over at night

die you radicalized league of fools
as you revel in your lies
tell them over and over again
until each suicide bomber dies

just try to threaten freedom’s reign
our free speech never lost in vain
if you choose to kill
because you think it’s Allah’s will
your religion so aggrieved
you’ll die a gruesome death deceived

so best keep your eyes to Allah
to know when the time is right
to kiss your jihadi ass goodbye
when the drones fly over at night

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury

Vantage Point

we’ve come so far
beyond paradigm
to where the few
know a rare place
and time
complex new
dimensions
are misunderstood
yet seekers of truth
still seek the way
and the good
casting a glance
at the growing storm
faraway
fanatic rants
jeopardize
the safe and warm
will we make it
to the other side
will we rise above
the rising tide
can mankind cope
do we still hope
or is what we’ve achieved
threatened
on a slippery slope
it’s a race to the finish
to know how it ends
evil diminished
ill will portends
we build our walls higher
swarms of drones fire
evil’s armies on the run
a price will be paid
by daughter and son

1. © Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

HALL OF FAME FATHER
Brooks Bradbury

Our father who art in heaven
he went there straight away
you see three golfers were waiting
for one more soul to play

they decided on a format
no mulligans gimmies or ties
they all put in a dollar and agreed
to play it where it lies

God took out his one iron
and teed his ball up high
he drove it down the middle
“Good shot God,” quipped the new guy

Chuck couldn’t have been any calmer
as he put his ball in play
he crushed his drive 350 out
God said, “You’re still away.”

As they walked God turned to him,
“Chuck you’ve lead a model life.
Your faith has been rewarded,
by your family and your wife.

You were a tireless coach and teacher,
helping others on their way
you held a straight and steady course
I’m glad you finally came to play

You never over did it
You wasted neither words nor tears
you never gave up you soldiered on
A devoted father all these years

there was Briarcliff and Beacon
those Hudson River towns
Fort Lee Virginia and Canton New York
and moving’s ups and downs

Springville’s Griffith Institute
you loved those years there’s no dispute
I moved you on to Syracuse
in your time there you paid your dues

from city schools and racial rage
to Hamilton College and a bigger stage
that little country school at O.C.S.
it was all a lot I must confess

retirement in the land of pines
ended your New York state of mind
moments shared at Pinecrest High
your final football gift goodbye.”

Chuck said, “God it was quite a ride,
and as I take a final talley
I really enjoyed every challenge
even the Mohawk Valley.”

God said, “Thanks for that Chuck,
I put you where I needed you
in one continual test
sometimes I have to leave folks where they are and move around the rest

Chuck said, “God, I’m grateful.
and let me thank you first
for all the golf I played down there
from Orchard Park to Pinehurst.”

God then realized while he spoke
Chuck moved two strokes up
and on the 17th Chuck drilled a birdie putt
to the bottom of the cup

God said, “How about double or nothing Chuck?
It seems you’ve beaten me today
Chuck said, “Happy to make it interesting.
God, you’re still away.”

As they hit their drives on eighteen
Chuck walked in a magic glow
back at the top of his golf game again
friends and family missing him so

Heaven’s gained a rare Sportsman
A true Hall of Fame husband and dad
Now that he’s playing golf with God
we feel only a little less sad

We’ll join you in heaven one day Dad
free from earthly cares
until then you’ll remain in our thoughts Dad,
forever in our prayers

© COPYRIGHT 2014  Brooks Bradbury  ǀ  BROOKS LOOKS

TRUE MEASURE OF A COMMUNITY
Sheboygan, Wisconsin
April 22 2007

To the Editor of the Sheboygan Press:

You kindly welcomed two New Englanders to these shores last summer and as first impressions are important, I thought I would share mine with you. Once we decided to follow opportunity to the Midwest, I confess to consulting a map to find Wisconsin in the first place.

From the New England perspective, Wisconsin lies somewhere near the Arctic Circle and the weather must be really horrible there. I can say now the weather is about the same as New England and there are plenty of other differences we have come to celebrate. Sad to say that Wisconsin rarely entered my young northeast consciousness. It did happen occasionally when the Packers were on TV. As a young Packer fan, I imagined Green Bay to be a remote ice-covered city with Bart Starr as its leading hero. I know I had some of this right.

Milwaukee remains pretty murky in the New England mind, although we share the same passion for beer. Beer dulled the pain of so many losing Red Sox seasons and is no doubt helpful here. New England must be a little murky in the Badger mind as well, someone asked us if Connecticut was on the east coast. OK. Fair is fair. Now happily situated here in Sheboygan and regularly getting the ‘blue bag’ out to the curb on the right day, we have endured our limit of conversations with those back home who over-reference “cheese heads” or who wonder why on earth we would come here. It seems I think it best at this point to keep them in the dark. Other than our family members, we left behind a diminishing sense of community values, baked beans, bad air (from cars), traffic, general indifference, lobster rolls, littleneck clams and hills.

And this is what we have already gained: genuinely kind neighbors with real honest-to-goodness values; an unreal work ethic; incredible artisanal cheeses; a very special Mead Library; sunrises over Lake Michigan; Leinies and brat frys; walleyes and fish fries. Removing our family members from the equation, we feel blessed to have traded up.
It has been humbling to discover foliage, cranberries, quaint towns and even a popular ‘cape’ (Door County) actually exist in the Midwest.

And it has been serendipitous to walk along the beautiful Lake Michigan beach here without having to pay the Connecticut shoreline’s $40-per-family-member-to-walk-here every summer fee. We amuse ourselves each time we discover any noticeable change in topography (OK it’s pretty flat here…) that reminds us of a real New England hill. We hope to hike in the Kettle Moraine one day, but to us hikes always mean some significant change in elevation.

All kidding aside, the real measure of our new community is block after block of well cared for properties, and kind people who have time for each other and who share their time and talents for the common good. There is much to love about New England and in a way, it will always resonate as home for us. I hope one day you experience its natural beauty in places like the Berkshires or on Block Island or in any of its myriad picturesque towns and villages. Back east though, hardly any of our neighbors knew each other. It is blissfully different here. One night, I was coming home from work dreading the time after dinner that would be necessary for me to repair the old snowblower in order to clear the driveway after a recent blizzard.

I turned the corner and to my wondering eyes the driveway had already been cleared of snow! My joy turned to guilt when I imagined my wife may have borrowed a snowblower and done it herself (gulp). I walked inside to learn she hadn’t — our wonderful new neighbors had! Incredibly, another neighbor had delivered some delicious homemade soup and to top it all off there was a welcoming gift of homemade cookies from yet another! How happy we felt to have arrived here.

So you see, it really isn’t a “horse apiece.” There is much good to celebrate in Sheboygan beginning with the Midwest’s firm grasp of values, of a community working together, and remembering that the simple things in life are really everything. There are many things we wish were different in our country today, however there is so much about Sheboygan that we hope will always stay the same.

CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
Brooks Bradbury
1 September 2013

the cook reported longhorns
was coming in the gate
some buckaroos at breakfast
some were in the bunk house
they was sleepin’ late

prit’ near eight mean corriente
ambled up the old dirt road
pointy horns a glinting
they lumber to and fro

they were free-range beef with attitude
and in one-by-one they filed
somehow they got past the cattle grates
like a farside cartoon gone wild

chiricahua cowboy
he’s on his horse again
we never know why
we never know when
but he’s the hope of arizona
least from gleeson to portal
the chiricahua cowboy
he’s the one that gets the call
any time ‘r oyster’s are up against the wall

one was udderly female
it was plainly clear to see
queen of rodeo heifers
another rather bullish one,
he kept eyeing me

the chiricahua cowboy
he sauntered into view
wore his leather jacket with fancy fringe
smelled like beer and last night’s stew
boxer shorts and cowboy boots
his pants still in his room

he had spurs a whip and forty-fives
and was itching for a feud
the chiricahua cowboy
who lost big at love and poker last night
he was one big angry dude

he was ready to settle the score
and put those beeves back in the pen
the beefly duel was coming on it seemed
out in the sage, fresh cowpies steamed
the heifer huddled the others then
weight was shifted
horns were pointed
when they all thundered in

all of a sudden the brawl commenced
bullwhip cracked and bullets flew
eight corriente turned tail to run
in the end they met their bovine match
he blew smoke from the end of his gun

chiricahua cowboy rounded ‘em up right then
they were beaten as hamburger

as he locked them in the pen
“next time you come round here
some butcher’ll make it cut and dried
makin’ small parts out of your wholes
and wallets from yer hide!”

chiricahua cowboy
he’s on his horse again
we never know why
we never know when
but he’s the hope of arizona
least from gleeson to portal
the chiricahua cowboy
he’s the one that gets the call
any time ‘r oyster’s are up against the wall