Tag: thoughts

Poetry

Silver Linings

Bradley Ward

It hits you all a sudden.

A kick in the fucking teeth.

The idealism you were born with

Just ignores your reality.

You believe things can change.

It’s more than simple hope;

Invasive visions of futures

That, if they happen, happen slow.

When the silver lining

Is all that lines your pockets,

You’re always left spent.

Reframe the worth of energy.

Giving up won’t bring you down.

The picture you’ve been painting

Doesn’t recharge you anyhow.

When the silver lining

Is all that lines your pockets,

You’re always left spent.

Maybe I’ll give up on you.

Maybe I’ll give up on this.

Maybe I’ll just breathe for once.

Poetry

Old Road

Bradley Ward

One more mile to go
A short distance on this road
I’ll take this on my own
I’ll tread the dust alone

The forest is claiming lives
On the side of this road
Stare past the trees
Look to the skies
There’s joy in the stars
What a paralyzing notion
In the commotion

Poetry

Old Walls

Bradley Ward

Stare at the walls
The floor is in motion
This is where we make our stand

The doors are the gates
Portals to a world that’s crashing
We had the strength to move the mountains
We let them eat it all away

I’ve got to get a hold of my self
I can’t keep screaming into the pillow
Paranoia creeps its way into my mind

Somewhere
I’ll find my heart
The beating of the pulse
The burning in my lungs
Escaping breaths
Come swiftly, rest

Poetry, thoughts

Leaf

Bradley Ward 
The scrape of a leaf against the sidewalk
Rough, cruel, even inhumane
Yet somehow thrilling in the breeze
It is the knowledge of what something represents
That is stronger than the impression of its actual form
  
A person who cannot speak or gesture
Their mind firing on all cylinders
Often viewed as that fleeting, long-dead leaf
Yet filled with the color and beauty of autumn
Poetry

Is It?

Bradley Ward 
Maybe we’ve taken a long hard look at ourselves
Seeing with dry, burning eyes that this is not who we are
Or is it? 
Cynicism is the tissue that surrounds the scars
Conspiracy is the gauze that fills the void
  
Is optimism a shattered virtue?
With enough substance to make out the shape
But not enough to piece it together?
Poetry, thoughts

Strange Rituals

Bradley Ward

Strange rituals
The beaked mask
Is donned no longer
In its stead
Plexiglass and cloth
The same wall
Between sick and well

Will the hazmat suit
Instill the same terror
Centuries later
As the plague doctors of old?

Poetry

Change

Bradley Ward

There is never growth
Where the ground is not readied
Untilled soil
Is never ready for change

Descale the heart
Raw and afraid
Is the only way to listen
The only way to pray

Feel more than you think
The fear felt by others
Making your own heart race
Your feet in the same place

Poetry

Other Minds

Bradley Ward

I suppose we all have visions
That we carry to the dirt
High minded goals and creative urges
Most of which never come to be
Patents that are never filed
Books that won’t be written
Dreams that leave with the oxygen
From brain matter, in the end

Are the thoughts we have
Those which crossed other minds before?
The only difference being
We take the time to write them down
While the older mind wrote down others?