sounded like you wanted to try, but you've already got plans

stand alone in the place you called home

funny, in that it's not

the closest is more often an orange poison in an orange juice bottle

schemed, planned, parties full throttle

time to stop, blood clot oops

bring out your bedazzled battalion, purple sneakers

divine beaters of archaic realms, dream backwards

fast forward to the past I've already seen

lick it bean, not so keen for gallons

kegs of that smell, our cologne exciting your secret

tallons of diamonds and gold, whip it back and snort

talented girls, more to know than your forward friends

you fall asleep when I wake for work

nobody talking just a rumbling down in dirt

leaving this house, can't you see what I won't

don't postpone this awkward discontent

malicious software downloaded, upload to mainframe of brain and heart discoloured, childish pink and red initials scrawled all over my skin and thoughts. distraught in my contorted rocket ship, hardship endured with tough exterior, rough edges and so delicate,

two..

one

take off,

you fall asleep when I wake for work

uninvited postman delivers news, return to sender, return to sender. bring me flowers, shut up for ages, pages and pages of the same shit. tear it, torn up, burning up to a fire with flame and naming of names. solace inside my letter, but you opened it uninvited, undecided and this adoration doesn't help. distracted with compact solutions, isolation. desolation. complication. mediation. deterioration.

why did you fall asleep when I woke for work?

passed out in my wasted tights
neon green liner breeds outside the lines
fresh bruises waste time

faulty beacons a constant rhyme
airplanes pass overhead, stealing people
operations with complications
situations and interrogations
lengthy questions with short answers
our tapestry ignored
pull apart, open heart surgery
insert yourself and stamp 'here forever'
pretty pink ink left with clarity
curiosity murdered any faith
spontaneity left me with cravings
pavement an only comfort
this tuft, my dirty friend of weed
rest our humble head of cotton candy
weakened seam: painful as hell

and God followed me with a blood on his hands

the kind that seeped and retreated like a freed tortured soul

His ambivalence of us reaped His suffering, what a Man

down my own road He followed, the gutters swollen

tide was coming in, the ocean filled with red regret

people didn't try to swim, they understood consequence

but did they understand the path that lead them there

back home they thought it was a joke

there were slash are no linguistical barriers

to where do they look for such injustice, such influence

origins of red sea, I'm flooded with interest and boredom

when is it enough, when do scars heal and why don't they

playing hopscotch on wounds superficial

perpetuating social intolerance to a new low, supported by millions

and brunette and caramel

everything that smells good

and cocoa and ethnic

all that it should

but deceit and travesty

pretense is too clear

but ambiguity and translucence

come here, come near

no hesitation no excuses

don't speak to me

no disillusions no picture perfect

give me colourful truth

a time to miss

and a time to be missed.

to be missing times

a time to kiss

and a time to be kissed.

the kissing time is now, smooch.

a distant touch,

this touch of distance.

epic in distant motion, across ocean.

..

a frozen flame.

creatures nurtured as fear grows, heightened senses and tall fences
weighted, grounded and without strength

how do I get to these lengths;
clean lines, clear cut copies
an energy from inside that doesn't help, an envious thought, spewing from depth, so inept, clarity is scarce and hidden

on the wane

That God awful ex feeling.

Carry me in search of light, without darkness to follow. Bring me to a conclusion that is conclusive. Make ends meet where beginnings ended.

Coming in last.

Totally eclipsed and underneath everything that was. Time, and time again swept beneath and forgotten without thought. Conscious of decisions made, and even planned.

Glee in hindsight.

Envelope me in bandage of your angst. Tighten, excitable. Conclusive stimulation. And, if it helps, I will strum you a song on my ukulele. With and without, und for and against in black and white contest of marriage. Same or similar, comparably different. Guess of Prada; Sun of Moon.

It has been dark of late. Recent moon poops and rabbit holes of treacherous nature. The dimly lit square lay dormant for none hath crossed paths. Lucky. Or without luck? None have crossed path, so how can they know? How can they say. [!]

Dirty money intervenes, and I'm drowned in glory. Beautiful sex embellished. Calm, kind of cold and hungry for music and movement sex. Give love and utter sensual, tasted victory and lick your moneys. Red tulip on lips of moisture and slippery attributes. Drums, drums, drums. Could it be alone and sex in one. Body upon movement, being paid. Paid for the movement and the money sex. Financial benefits where sex doesn't play, and music is doing it. Hastily. Backing away of beauty, and then some.

after a performance

take this body, gentle
manipulate and strangle with intention
define, refine and align
endless pathways with untold consequence

object not, embrace what can could should
advance in ways accidental
solutions found yet never absolute
hold dear concept, with forgotten fear

now enter domain in focussed thought
unparalleled being, being is only so
totally conscious of actuality and dream state
never let me leave

Thomas A. Bradley.

banter blogging

Hey there. How about some April 4th banter blogging.

Yeah?

Well, here it is foreigners.

-------------- April 4th

10:12pm

i regret the past, not as is but as could have been
i miss the past in all hindsight glory
the sentimental aroma that still surrounds certain places
the irrefutable evidence of absolute love

an undeniable lure that is rooted so deep
beyond addiction, this is natural
recognise this simple adoration
it is real, palpable; be touched

10:20pm

an image without light
a sound, inaudible
moments in time
that are unforgettable

direction didn’t matter
the way was paved
unspoken trust
could have been blind

10:35pm

temptress of tired promises
a sweet fragrance
of no parallel, no equivalent

to my discontent;
total inhalation
of the most vile glamour

within an inch of perfection

--------------

Thomas A. Bradley.

P.S. Thank you for the easter egg hunt Zoë! Such a babe aye. And shit.

[untitled]

Hello, hello.

a pretty digital flower

This is the newest in my wee verse slash poetry collection. 

Without a title, as yet, she is an angsty number full of wonderful description. I wanted to try something different, in my style of writing. I decided I was only allowed to edit two things when I was done, no refining as I went [even if things didn't always make sense as far as content and vocab went] 

What became of such restrictions, I think, is quite interesting. Enjoy, and don't read into things too much.. Find pleasure in the words as they are, don't contextualize, read in search of colour, shades and temperature. Find yourself immersed in a thousand words without implications and intended significance.

------------

hanging above what seems heaven
streams und creeks of absolut
but I don’t know God
intellect tells of fiction; sagacity conquers

this is a rope, not your hand
do not attempt a saviour’s position now
you’re far from late, so overdue you’re on time
in time for standstill, to smile and see the fallen

tunes play, only.. i see them now
i am beyond audible vocals
i envision chords, orchestral sensation
you begin conducting and i crave atonality

i require shades of turquoise
the ultimate in green on rivers
will flow without boundary or course
but on sentiment and nostalgia

if curves present, you turned away
and lost sight of me in peachy bliss
for now, rapture compells me
my rope is taught no more as i plunge 

into consummate elegance; peachy and turquoise

-----------

Thomas A. Bradley.

Jan 14th, 2010.

summerboy

Summer of twenty ten; wow, what a way to chill out after a massive year overseas. 

It was lovely to come home and  relax into country life, despite missing the city atmosphere and general acceptance of such an extrovert as myself. I found myself a little lost, again, returning home. Almost like crawling back into a shell; so cliché.

Here's a, somewhat, fictional taste of my summer days.

6th january 2010

hey you can be my summerboy

play toy, bracelet ‘round my wrist

feel me twist and writhe in bed at night

no fights in spite of unknown light

lay next to me, the morning coming, 

dawning soon, monsoon; it’s raining

tears of sweet bliss, kiss and lips

hands and feet, that swerve and curve

with minds of own,  golden throne

sit down, I’ll wait for royalty

to come to me, sickly sweet melody

you sing, from chest my chest

polystyrene, mean machine

cracked and floating away from me

on train, waved into eve 

"~makes bird bath/zoë sound~ one more little chest kiss.."