Credo Ut Intelligam

Credo Ut Intelligam
Above all else, think and reason. See with the eyes of your heart.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Autolux - Asleep at the Trigger

Outside of Catalina

I have developed a fa├žade of puka, conch shells and mother of pearl
I tossed myself into the waves outside of Catalina Island in hopes of making my way onto your shore
If you come close and listen closer you can still here the ocean in my voice
And when I close my eyes to dream
I watch the iridescent shimmer shake like your tail feathers do
and like you do for me, I wish to lull you hypnotically
Into a false sense of security
©2010   j. k. bradford

“you were always my favorite drug..even when we used to do drugs” scott wieland

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Friday, October 22, 2010

James 1:23-25 The Mirror Forgets

I have to remind myself of what is confirmed as factual
Not that I doubt or question it; I simply allow the phlegm of life to
To create a slippery slope of forgetfulness
I have to keep firm in mind that over and below, from another to the other side are the waving hands of passerby’s
Claiming greener lawns under false pretenses
Jail cells hidden behind house facades with white picket fences
But, I have given that a try, and it is a vehement lie
I see the banner flags of standard folks
 A worldly menagerie of malignment and self plotted confinement
Tossed about by misery; inkling for companionship and camaraderie
A single real moment of unfettered intimacy
I have forgotten before, and then in an instant remembered
Dodging the deceiver’s machete wielding; hungry for dismembering
As before, I kicked myself and quickly huffed upon the burning embers
That nearly flashed out of existence without my constant attention and persistence; to what needs be done
How we forget, when we turn away from our own reflection
Where our allegiance lies
How quickly we can come undone
Even with the mentorship of the Christ; Jah’s only begotten Son
So, I say to myself: This is to be expected
I must take a hold of the tools made available and read, study, reflect
And speak to Him, share with Him everyday
And then
Make an assessment of my own engine;
Is it in working order: Check
Oil: Checked.
An evaluation of wear and tear; Check
 Tires kicked; Check
I have to remind myself of what is important; righteous and therefore true
I wish I could stay firmly tied to the anchor of action
When I sequester my will but still my imperfect person breaks through
And its 1 step forward, and sadly backwards 2
©2010 J. K. Bradford

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Copper Penny

I have always been your proverbial cinnamon penny
Not worth much, but I will shall shine and spend only for you
I fear in your silk purse of coins I am frankly one of many
Still I would like to believe that it simply isn’t true
For a tickle there is something that strikes me as funny
Although the idea of it leaves me dejected and blue
If I told you I knew of your poor conduct and misbehavior
Would you claim my words were meant to batter or bruise?
Because I have always been your personal copper penny
Not worth much but I willingly give you a penny’s luck
If I could I would love to venture elsewhere
But in the corners of your purse lining I always seem to be

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Monday, October 11, 2010

Stay Tuned My Love, Stay Tuned

You wondered what new blunder I could muster that could possibly render you aghast and asunder?
Stay tuned I will let you know
You question what of any of the many lessons could like a meal be fed into your head for quick digestion?
Stay close and I will let you know
The years of slip and falls into the arms of one another, shielding the other from the storm and the thunder
When outside it was freezing cold
Now you presume I would disclose what just may loom behind the roses, sweet talk and perfume?
If I told you I fear you would go
So stay tuned; I will let you know….eventually
©2010  J. K. Bradford

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

for Delaney

The race runs shorter than you know
With age comes wisdom of such things
Like gulls that ride the warm gulf stream
Life can quickly takes to wings
I wish that I could have been  good
A better Father who was there for you
But time may have run out now for me
And therefore little that I can do

The race is coming to an end
And I come in second behind my shame
The only thing that I give to you
Is painful memories and my name
Life can quickly take to wings
And fly above this world so cruel
I wish that I had been a better man
Instead of a now dying fool
©2010  J. K. Bradford

Tiny Vipers - Dreamer / THEY SHOOT MUSIC

Monday, October 4, 2010


A poem about the journey instead of the destination.
I hate driving on the freeway
No distractions
Just cell phone criminals
skid marks and carpool swimmers
These days,
I tend to drive in the slow lane
Which my mother hates
I guess it is because subconsciously
I want to exit the freeway
As soon as possible
Like body language signals when you cross your legs
Towards  the exit signifies being uncomfortable
and wanting to leave
Freeways represent everything that is cancer in our society
Instant gratification;
or as close to it as is possible
Not enough hours in a day
and too many people with hypertension
I hate freeways because it brings out the worse in people
The power trippers
and the control freaks
the kings of the road
and the blissfully oblivious
Having two people in the car doesn’t oblige you to occupy the diamond lane
and being in the diamond lane
doesn’t give you license to claim it as yours exclusively
What ever happened to stopping and smelling the flowers?
I appreciate time constraints
and work related complaints if we are behind the proverbial 8ball
Why can’t we take the road less traveled whenever possible?
Enjoying the scenery
and lowered blood pressure
Amaze yourself at what you learn about your community
Eateries and architecture
and alternate routes to all places relative
Getting lost can be a way to find new trails to destinations
Surprise revelations and epiphanies
So instead of laboring day in and day out along the 405, 5, 10 and 91
Pop in an audio book of Robert Frost and investigate that street you always wondered about
or take the streets to work for a change
©2010  J. K. Bradford

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Ignoble Dreamer

It seems to me that your memory, seamless slips easily in between
Barriers unseen to overwhelming oceans of envy in green
For those who hide the very things that I constantly try to glean

It seems to be that your misery easily whips the cream in between
Carriers being presented as friends, acquaintances e’en
And who truly want you to come clean; here is what I mean:

You are my attention and Lydia tells the tale
and I
I gather the listeners and bewail the plot as it fails
To thicken and did I bother to mention the wind in my sails
stops blowing me away long enough for the ocean to drown my love?
For the ocean to slowly drown my love in briny soup and wistful gales?

But there is still Lydia, and me wishing the song forever to last
Sweet sonic Lydia and Margot with the So & Sos,
As Tall As Lions to blast, while I for once and for all sit empty; crying
Mourning your almost love and my almost not a fool
My heart felt beauty poured out in meanings viewed as crass
Again I fall apart at the seams
As I think of and ignobly dream of the past
~2010 j.k. bradford

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Heligoats--A Guide to the Outdoors

Your Heart's Winter Coat

Mystery, it is just me
In the whisper of your own wit and winsome logic
I am here for a second nestled in the lining of
Your memory
And intertwined in the lint of your hearts
Woolen coat pocket
A half eaten snickers bar and a haphazard
Hypnogogic half hearted
Mystery it is just me
Dull and downhearted in the nap of your carpet
I am here careening out of control still in love
And co-mingled in with the tobacco stained
Fingers and thumbs
That runs through your locks as they shine in the sun
Mystery, it is just me
But you knew that when I offered my false apathy
Then retracted and replaced it tragically
With a long overdue act of responsibility
What could it mean?
That I have become some how a less worthless human being
Than you remember from previously?
Maybe, it is a mystery
©2010  j. k. bradford