Food for Thought-Save Ferris

Save Ferris

I am still trying to save Ferris,
and hiding from Mr. Rooney,
while standing up to my dad,
over that stupid car,
as I am learning voo-doo economics,
in this elevated threat level,
Danke Schoen, my friend,
for I am far too young and clever,
to stop ever stop caring,
about a day
when we were young and daring.

-Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-Layaway is Back

Layaway is back,
Wal-Mart waits,
While the money gestates,
As people buy in,
To more consumerist sin,
Bigger and better,
Wider screens are what matter,
To watch those guilty of domestic abuse,
Make obscene money while on the loose,
We pretend we like to care,
While wearing jerseys in our lounge chairs.
But really we don’t give a flip,
As long as our lives aren’t challenged a bit.

–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-This Sunday Rain (A Poem)

This Sunday Rain

Preface:  I understand the need for rain; biologically, environmentally, and ecologically speaking.  However, at the moment, I’m sick of rain.  RB

This Sunday rain,
is more like a flood,
I expect to see pairs of creatures,
walking through the mud,
headed for some Ark like feature,
but will the angry ones draw blood,
when they find the Methodist preacher,
with his tied theological tongue,
urging his flock to get out of life’s bleachers,
and back into the non-existent sun.

-Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-Camus on Ocrcaoke

Albert Camus

Camus on Ocracoke

Camus is walking beside me,
but he says nothing,
he only looks toward the sea,
Albert mumbles these words,
“Qui se soucie aujourd’hui?”
“Today?” I say.
“Je pense”,
We stumble,
for meaning on the verge of Fall,
winter must come,
for people to crawl,
beneath the myths,
they think they sing,
to find the words,
in which they believe,
Summer isn’t a season,
that ever leaves,
it is an invincible place,
inside of the collective “we”,
a place to dwell,
ce n’est pas l’enfer
when the shops are bare,
our future sits not,
upon such silly cares.

–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-A Shakespearean Sonnet on the Cruel Month of September


A Shakespearean Sonnet on the Cruel Month of September

The late summer rains carry leaden air,
Vapors stalk me and they for whom I care,
Misty humors from the west make dark clouds,
Perchance, I only dream while nature sounds,
Anon, cruel fate awakes my sleeping heart,
Unable, I am to know where to start,
Opaque mysteries roam freely by my bed,
While beads of desperation drench my head,
Cruel month of September, won’t you leave?
Your nights bring me such pain on each new eve,
Alas, poor time close the September door!
With your humid vapors gone ever more,
Leave now, my soul, in shreds of autumn peace,
Before I embrace a cold winter’s sleep.

–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-Groucho Marxism


We are here today,
With the Homecoming Queen,
And Football King,
And just so you know,
Our sponsor is the 1952
Dodge DeSoto,
So my dear,
Where are you from?
“LaCrosse, Wisconsin”,
And what do you study?
“19th century English poetry”,
My favorite poem,
is the one that starts,
30 days hath September,
Because it actually tells you something,
While she laughs uncomfortably,
Groucho says, “But seriously,
Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
To which she says, “I don’t think so.”
Well I have had a perfectly wonderful evening
And this isn’t turning out to be it.
Perhaps it’s time for us to go,
I’m not sure I’ve understood though,
I think a child of five,
Would have no problem getting this,
Are there any five year olds,
Quite nearby,
Who can dismiss,
My confusion today,
Because I really thought,
I had something important to say.

–Richard Bryant