BrooksLooks @ Inhospitable

Inhospitable

if we put down the double latte
move away from our little screens
try to become human again
if we remember what it means

generous employers decades ago
provided commendable steady work
benefits, pensions and raises earned
without armed workers gone berserk

honorable employees decades ago
gave a lifetime of blood and sweat
they earned each precious benefit
the ones we no longer get

the social contract fractured
when money became the goal
now we see where it’s all leading
as we face the social toll

we’re all out on the run today
searching for what it all means
thankful for our friends and family
for lattes and little screens

© Copyright 2015 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

BrooksLooks @ Snake in the Road

Snake in the Road

it started with a garter snake
flattened in the street
the harmless little garden kind
whilst squished, was rather neat

“they’re the good ones” people quip
“they couldn’t ever hurt”
like the big fat slithery black ones
down there in the dirt

let them go their merry way
in the herpetological code
but it’s open season on the highway
when they’re stretched across the road

in Appalachia
copperheads can make you think twice
the poison ones come at ‘ya and
timber rattlers are half as nice

but out in Arizona
the snakes have all turned pro
so you better watch out, out there
if that’s where yer plannin’ to go

see there’s twenty kinds of diamondbacks
they stare out of those rocky cracks
and that lightning fast Mojave kind
say your prayers if one attacks

sonoran racers and whip snakes
are colorful and mellow
but a coral snake bite is all it takes
‘cause “red and yellow kills a fellow”

it’s a queasy kind of feeling though
for even a ranch-worn drover
who sees a diamondback with tire tracks
when his pickup runs one over

there ain’t no moral to the tale
when it comes to deadly snakes
avoid ’em on the trail fer sure
but on the road avoid the brakes

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury / BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks @ Insha’Allah

Insha’Allah

don’t tell me it’s about religion
all i see is evil on the rise
violent false bravado
in your 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 every 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

BrooksLooks @ Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope by Brooks Bradbury

Kaleidoscope

running away
beyond these walls
smashing the glass
i scream in sterile halls

at the end of my years
i’m full of fears
so many tears
each piece of my life
was once crystal clear

now like shards
of colored glass
that tumble together
in time’s impasse

endless shapes
roll round and round
bits of my memory
broken, lost
no longer found

unfamiliar patterns
if i move from the light
darker by the moment
my soul’s final fight

unsteady hands
the pieces keep
turning, moving
i no longer know
i’m no longer improving

[she walked to where
the circled chairs,
a familiar stranger,
her husband of 50 years–
was waiting there]

tell me who you are again?
will you help me see?
did i know you once?
were you kind to me?

won’t you sit a bit
and talk a while?
hold my hand
i think that once
i knew your smile

my spirit shattered
i’ll escape today
over the wall
beyond my fears
if i break this glass
i’ll get far away

and leave shards
of colored glass
to tumble together
in my last gasp
endless shapes
go round and round
bits of memory
lost, remaining now
forever un-found

wait for me
i’m still right here
all my heart
all my fears
uncertainty and tears
where is my home?

when can I go home?

Dedicated to Dot & Frank and to The Elms’ Chestnut Cottage, Memory Care Alzheimer’s Disease Unit, Westerly RI

© Copyright Brooks Bradbury 2015

BrooksLooks @ Writing Poetry

20160928_205626Writing Poetry with a Pencil
Brooks Bradbury

I once wrote a poem
with a pencil
right on a white paper sheet
until a hand-me-down
Remington portable
made college life complete

clacking away on metal keys
that flew up square and neat
as a typed-out poem in parallel lines
appeared on my white paper sheet

a spool of black and red cloth ribbon
clicked along through a metal notch
it was as close as I had ever come
to the works of a fine Swiss watch

though clacking away faster and faster
‘til I over-clacked a little
it was at last too damned fast
and the keys got jammed in the middle

into the late pre-historic,
pre-techno age
things were still low-tech
and eclectic
when along came a thing
that became all the rage
high-tech and self-correctic
it was the best you could find
at last! the great one of a kind
IBM Selectric!

with its fancy silver alphabet ball
it turned every which way but loose
and my poem spilled out
on the paper sheet
my office, at last complete

alas now there was no excuse
I could put the back-button into use
it would truly save the day
mistakes were covered in little white tape
and I could keep typing away

then at the dawn of our digital throes
beyond palm pilot and stylus woes
behold the blackberry had finally come
soon we were addicted to typing
with each carpal sore thumb
and it now really grates
when my hip ‘ghost’ vibrates
I think I’m still crackberry numb

so I typed out my poems
then on the little white screen
but now I could email my work
if you know what I mean
honestly I could just scream

it didn’t stop there
iPhones and tablets
have us all on the run
the digital arms race
had long since begun
sometimes I ponder
what progress has brung
a poet with an S4 Galaxy Samsung?

my monthly cell plan continues to rise
and my poetry production to taper
it’s time to go back
to writing each poem
with a pencil
right on a white sheet of paper

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury, BrooksLooks

BrooksLooks @ Autumn

20171007_175232.jpgINTO THE AUTUMN

a wince too painful
not to notice
sudden stabs
of hidden hurt
presage one’s
reluctant arrival
in middle age
foretelling storms
an upside plus
bones pre-ache
reminding us
like an early warning
signal flare
to live it up
while you’re still there
a final fling
live earnestly and
honestly
forthrightly
we implore each other
and we allow
our time grows short
even now
hold onto me
the best is coming
yet to be
i hope
one day we will see
through autumn’s
arrival
auspiciously
we live forward
in a season new
life’s expectancy
comes into view
we’ll warm our hands
at life’s sweet fire
through autumn leaves
of red and gold
we’ll dance
and laugh
at getting old

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury, BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks @ Linger Here

Linger Here

linger here
in this moment
in this place
meant for you
a sacred space

a micro gift
for you alone
for your soul
a sunlit ray
synchronized
for you in time
here only now
along your way

fleeting moment
gone forever
if you miss it
you’ll not know
the very instant
joy presented
love and life
here all aglow

be ever ready
for little moments
that come along
arise to be
for life is seeking
your full attention
and little moments
set you free

© COPYRIGHT 2014 Brooks Bradbury, BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks @ Vantage Point

20180810_200108

Vantage Point

we’ve come so far

beyond paradigm

to where the few

know a rare place and time

complex new dimensions

misunderstood

yet seekers of truth

still seek the way

and the good

they cast 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 army on the run

and the price will be paid

by daughter and son

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks @ A Hall of Fame Father

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

BrooksLooks @ George Schuster

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George Schuster

greeted my share of kings and queens
those who star on movie screens
dined with rock stars, heads of state
the notorious and the now quite late

but a face encountered eons ago
with steely eyes I didn’t know
has stuck with me, haunts me still
his rare achievement of iron will

just a kid, I crossed the road
met him there at the end of his life
kindly, willing to the garage he strode
of course he’d sharpen my kid jackknife

he stepped on the metal treadle
the big stone wheel would start to spin
sparks commenced from the metal
fascinated, i would stand and grin

he asked if it was sharp enough
as if i really knew
these fleeting moments our last
i think he probably knew

back across the road,
sharp shiny blade in hand
my mother had her doubts with me,
and the knife
not with the kindly old man

see, he was a master mechanic
in the automobile’s dawning age
and back in nineteen aught eight
he drove onto the world’s biggest stage

around the globe in his Thomas Flyer
he drove with grit and plenty of tires
to Paris–an American Victory
George Schuster set the winning pace
Champion of the World’s Great Race

that’s the story unabridged and whole
simple kindness from a once great soul
a moment in two lifetimes
a sliver of each life
memorable moments shared
with only a simple knife

Copyright © 2013 Brooks Bradbury | BrooksLooks
http://brooksbradbury.com
Photo Credit: Jenn Czapla, 44 East Avenue, Springville, NY

BrooksLooks@ Why My Beloved Country?

WHY MY BELOVED COUNTRY?20190114_153943

another mass shooting
one more tragic day
another lost soul
shocked lost grieving
the rest of us pray

the media drill
rolls out the same way
who did the shooting?
what was his name?
who died and was injured?
are his parents to blame?
what were his motives?

a shrine grows
on hallowed ground
flowers are laid
between flickering votives
symbols of each light lost
at a profoundly steep cost

the soul of our nation
is now firmly at stake
there is a battle ahead
national ideals at stake

why my beloved country
have we not resolved
the issue of guns
have our leaders dissolved
why my beloved country
with tears pouring out
from so many eyes
are guns more precious
than our own children’s lives?

too little action
too many lies
through rivers of blood
anxious and anguished
our great nation cries
we can’t hold back
the flood of tears
in American eyes

© Brooks Bradbury 2013 | BrookLooks

BrooksLooks @ Tears in Chiricahua

TEARS IN CHIRICAHUA

Brooks Bradbury

November 2013

ANCIENT CHIRICAHUA

SACRED LONG AGO

NOW CALLED ARIZONA

THEIR ANCESTRAL HOME

THEIR MOUNTAINS AND

THEIR GRASSLANDS

THE PLACES

THEY ROAMED THEN

NOW ONLY TRACES,

OF ‘NDE CHOKONEN

GENERATIONS CAME BEFORE THEM

UNKNOWN APACHE HEIRS

NATIVE BLOOD SPILLED TOO OFTEN

DEFENDING WHAT WAS THEIRS

WHO THEN ONE DAY WILL ATONE

FOR THEIR BROKEN HEARTS

EACH APACHE BROKEN BONE

THEIR BODIES DIED YET SANCTIFY

THEIR CHIRICAHUAS STILL

UNBROKEN NATIVE SPIRITS

UNBROKEN NATIVE WILL

THEIR VOICES WHISPER IN THE SILENCE

SPIRITS ROAM NOW WITHOUT FEARS

WHEN IT RAINS IN CHIRICAHUA

IT RAINS APACHE TEARS

© Brooks Bradbury | Innspired Hospitality

BrooksLooks @ Sheboygan, Wisconsin

TRUE MEASURE OF A COMMUNITY
Brooks Bradbury
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. I would like to personally atone for wrongly imagining that Sheboygan must have similar attributes to the similar sounding “New Joy-sey.” Forgive my uninformed perspective.
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 Yankee 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.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

BrooksLooks @ Innkeepers

INNKEEPERS LIKE SLEEPERS
Brooks Bradbury
15 November 2013

IT’S NO SECRET
INNKEEPERS LIKE SLEEPERS
ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO RENT ROOMS
AND THOSE WHO DRINK WINE
AND THOSE WHO NEED TIME
FOR ROMANCE
LIKE BRIDES & GROOMS
AND THOSE OVERDUE FOR SOME VACATION
AND A LITTLE PRIVACY
ONE ASSUMES
THE DESPERATE FOR RELAXATION
AND RELIEF FROM CITY FUMES
THIS ABOUT COVERS
OUR WHOLE NATION

INNKEEPERS ITS TRUE
CAN REALLY VARY
BUT ALL GENUINELY OFFER
SANCTUARY

INNKEEPERS LOVE TO WELCOME EACH GUEST
THEY REALLY LOVE A FULL HOUSE
AND DREAM OF THE DAY
WHEN THEY CAN REST
IT’S THE GUESTS WHO COME BACK
FOR WHOM THEY ARE BLEST
INNKEEPERS OFFER ESCAPE
FROM LIFE’S TESTS

INNKEEPERS THOUGH
ARE A LITTLE OFF KILTER
PERHAPS ALWAYS BEING TOO NICE
MEANS THEY LACK SOME PERSONAL FILTER
OR THEIR UPBRINGING TAUGHT THEM
TO ALWAYS BE GIVING
OR THAT REAL JOY
COMES FROM HELPING OTHERS
WITH THEIR LIVING

THE WORLD’S INDEED A MUCH BETTER PLACE
BECAUSE INNKEEPERS WELCOME
THE WHOLE HUMAN RACE
THEN SEND PEOPLE BACK HUMAN AGAIN
TO THE PLACE THEY BELONG
AND BACK WITH THEIR FRIENDS

INNKEEPERS PERHAPS CONTRIBUTE
TO A LITTLE LESS TENSION
A LITTLE MORE LOVE
LESS APPREHENSION
MORE UNDERSTANDING
AND A REDUCTION IN STRESS
WITHOUT INNKEEPERS
THIS WOULD BE
A MUCH BIGGER MESS

HERE’S TO THE INNKEEPERS
A RATHER UNSUNG FOLK
MAY THEY SLIP INTO THEIR HOT TUBS
TONIGHT
FOR A WELL-DESERVED SOAK

IT’S NO SECRET
INNKEEPERS LIKE SLEEPERS
ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO RENT ROOMS
AND THOSE WHO DRINK WINE
AND THOSE WHO NEED TIME
FOR ROMANCE
LIKE BRIDES & GROOMS
AND THOSE IN NEED OF REAL VACATION
A LITTLE PRIVACY ONE ASSUMES
THOSE DESPERATE FOR RELAXATION
RELIEF FROM STRESS AND CITY FUMES
THIS JUST ABOUT COVERS OUR WHOLE NATION

INNKEEPERS IT’S TRUE
CAN REALLY VARY
BUT EACH OFFERS
A WELCOME TO SANCTUARY

© BROOKS BRADBURY / INNSPIRED HOSPITALITY

BrooksLooks @ The Poisoned Well

POISONED WELL
Brooks Bradbury

DEEP IN THE CORNER OF YOUR MIND’S DARK ROOM
GROWS A FEELING OF UNCERTAINTY
A HINT OF DOOM AND GLOOM
TEMPERATURES, WATER,
BLOOD PRESSURE RISING
FLOWER’S STRAIN TO BLOOM
ICE IS MELTING
TREES ARE CRYING

THERE’S POISON IN THE WATER POISON IN THE WOMB
THE STATUS QUO IS JUST A ONE WAY TOMB
GOD ONLY KNOWS AND TIME WILL TELL
TAKE ANOTHER CUP IT SURE TASTES SWELL
ARE WE LIVING IN A HOUSE WITH A POISONED WELL?
IGNORING ALL THE ROADSIGNS ON THE ROAD TO HELL

AS IT ALL COMES DOWN OUR PATHS DIVIDE
AMONG THOSE WHO HAVE AND THOSE DENIED
RANDOM SHOOTINGS IN THE SUBURBS
IN OUR SCHOOLS AND ON OUR STREETS
OUR INDIFFERENCE BROUGHT US HATRED
GANGS AND MOBS AND MORAL DEFEATS
CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF EARTH’S RISING TIDE
THE EXPLANATIONS WERE REALLY ONLY LIES
IT’S CRYSTAL CLEAR IN THE NAYSAYERS’ EYES

THERE’S REALLY NO TELLING HOW FAR YOU FELL
GOD ONLY KNOWS AND TIME WILL TELL
LIVING IN A HOUSE WITH A POISONED WELL
A FELLOW TRAVELER ON THE ROAD TO HELL
HAVE ANOTHER LADLEFUL SURE TASTES SWELL
MOTHER NATURE’S CRYING ‘BOUT HER POISONED WELL

THE TRUTH IS CLEAR
WE’LL RECEIVE AS WE’VE GIVEN
IT’S OVERDUE NOW
TO CHANGE THE LIVES WE’RE LIVING
THE WORLD’S PROBLEMS LIE AT OUR FEET
WE’VE GOT TROUBLE IN OUR FOOD, TROUBLE ON THE STREET
WHO WILL SAVE US NOW?
IT’S SUDDENLY MUCH CLEARER
THERE HE IS BEFORE US,
THE MAN IN THE MIRROR

RIDE THE STATUS QUO
AT YOUR OWN RISK,
IT’S JUST A ONE WAY TOMB
POISON IN THE WATER
POISON IN THE WOMB
REALLY NO TELLING
HOW FAR WE FELL
GOD ONLY KNOWS
AND TIME WILL TELL
WE’RE DRINKING FROM A POISONED WELL
TAKE ANOTHER CUPFUL
SURE TASTES SWELL
ENJOY THE RIDE
ON THE ROAD TO HELL
GETTING LATE, TIME TOLLS
A TIME WORN BELL
HAVE ANOTHER LADLE FROM THE POISONED WELL
ENJOY THE ROADSIGNS
ON THE ROAD TO HELL

WILL THE LIGHTS COME ON?
IS ANYONE OUT THERE?
WE’RE SO FAR BEYOND,
DOES ANYBODY CARE?
SO LATE TO MOVE
OFF THE PATH WE’RE ON
APPROACHING DAYS OF RECKONING
WE WILL ALL STAND ACCUSED
OF NATURE’S LAST BREATH
AND OUR EARTH SUFFUSED

IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?
LOOK IN THE MIRROR
WE HAVE TO DRINK
IN THE PLACE WE DWELL
WE PUT THE POISON
IN OUR OWN DAMN WELL
IT’S ALL MUCH CLEARER
WE’RE THE ONES THERE
IN THE MIRROR

BrooksLooks @ The Chiricahua Cowboy

CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
Brooks Bradbury
1 September 2013

THE COOK REPORTED LONGHORNS
WERE COMING IN THE GATE
SOME BUCKAROOS AT BREAKFAST
SOME WERE IN THE BUNK HOUSE
THEY WERE SLEEPING LATE

PRIT’ NEAR EIGHT MEAN CORRIENTE
AMBLED UP THE OLD DIRT ROAD
POINTY HORNS A GLINTING
THEY LUMBERED TO AND FRO

THEY WERE FREE RANGE BEEF WITH ATTITUDE
AND IN ONE BY ONE THEY FILED
SOMEHOW THEY GOT PAST THE CATTLE GRATE
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 THE RODEO HEIFERS
ANOTHER RATHER BULLISH ONE,
HE KEPT EYEING ME

THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
HE SAUNTERED INTO VIEW
HE WORE HIS LEATHER JACKET WITH 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 HE WAS ITCHING FOR A FUED
THE CHIRICAHUA COWBOY
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
IN THE SAGE, FRESH COWPIES STEAMED
THE HEIFER HUDDLED THE OTHERS THEN
WEIGHT WAS SHIFTED
HORNS WERE POINTED
THEN THEY THUNDERED IN

ALL OF A SUDDEN THE BRAWL COMMENCED
BULL WHIP 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
THE BUTCHER’LL MAKE IT RATHER CUT AND DRIED
AND HE’LL MAKE SMALLER PARTS OUT OF YOUR WHOLE
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

BrooksLooks @ Saying Goodbye to Pam Torres

FOR PAM
PEOPLE COME INTO OUR LIVES
AND WE’RE FOREVER CHANGED
THEN A DAY ARRIVES AND WE MOVE ON
LIVES ARE REARRANGED

YOUR LIFE SO RICH AND VIBRANT
TOO SOON BECOMES THE PAST
GOLDEN DAYS WE SHARED TOGETHER
THEY’VE SLIPPED AWAY TOO FAST

HAPPILY OUR LIVES IN PARALLEL
ON A RARE SWEET STOCKBRIDGE HIGH
ENJOYING LIFE AND LIVING WELL
YOU’RE THERE ALWAYS IN MY MIND’S EYE

SADNESS REIGNS YOU’RE GONE FOREVER
WE SEE IN OUR REAR VIEW MIRROR
ALL THE GIFTS YOU SHARED WITH US
NEVER SO MUCH CLEARER

YOUR SOPHISTICATION
YOUR CALMNESS UNDER PRESSURE
YOUR GENTLE WAYS AND KINDNESS
AMONG YOUR GIFTS WE’LL TREASURE

YOU HELPED US ALL IN COUNTLESS WAYS
YOUR LIFE LIKE OURS AT TIMES A STRUGGLE
A MOM A FRIEND AND KIDS TO RAISE
MUCH TO RESOLVE MUCH TO JUGGLE

YOUR DEATH IS OUR REMINDER
THAT OUR DAYS ARE ALL FINITE
WE’LL HOLD ON TO YOUR SWEET SMILE
SEE YOU EVER IN THE BEST OF LIGHT

YOUR FRIENDS NOW CLOSE AND FAR AWAY
THANK YOU FOR YOUR GENTLE WAY
FOR DEMONSTRATING HOW TO LIVE
HOW TO LOVE AND HOW TO GIVE

OUR LIVES TURNED OUT A MEASURE BETTER
BECAUSE YOU’VE COME OUR WAY
WE WISH YOU STAYED WITH US FOREVER
ALAS GOD’S TAKEN YOU AWAY

GOOD BYE DEAR PAMELA WE BID FAREWELL
WE’LL CARRY ON AS TIME WILL TELL
WITH YOU THERE ABOVE WE VISUALIZE
HEAVEN’S NOW MORE ORGANIZED

LIFE’S CURRENT FLOATS US ONWARD
TO PLACES WE NEVER KNOW
WHY DO PEOPLE WE CARE SO MUCH ABOUT
HAVE TO COME AND GO?

Copyright Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks, 2 August 2012

BrooksLooks@ Appalachia Rising

Appalachia Rising
Brooks Bradbury

born into uncertainty
none too clear since then
self-reliance separates him from
the beginning of the end

tempered on a blue ridge
he survives on what it gives
shotgun shells and venison
Appalachian man still lives

mocked for no good reason
maligned, misunderstood
Appalachia man laughs back
from pristine southern woods

wild beauty still surrounds him
heir to Cherokee lands
Nature still his wealth and pride
his strength is his two hands

Appalachian Man is rising
a new tide lifts him higher
moonshine and wild ginseng
fuel this raging fire

Appalachia rising,
the day has finally come
there’s more to this than meets the eye
a new day has begun

a time and place thought feral
Appalachian man is rising
ignore this at one’s peril
Appalachia rising
been beat down too damned long
Appalachian Nation rises,
a million people strong