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

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