Food for Thought-The Wal-Mart Blues


The Wal-Mart Blues

We are heading out tomorrow morning to our new church on Ocracoke Island, NC.  We made a run to Wal-Mart to stock up on a few supplies before the trip.

Beer bellies and bad tattoos,
26 check-out lines and just two working,
I got the Wal-Mart blues,
Flip-flops malfunctioning,
You don’t need no shoes,
keep on walking,
I got the Wal-Mart blues,
Leave your cart in the space I’m parking,
Cut me off while I choose,
The biscuit I hoped to be eating,
I got the Wal-Mart blues,
Customer service manager smirking,
When I tell her the news,
My lawn mower ain’t starting,
I got the Wal-Mart blues,
All over searching,
The automotive center for clues,
Bald heads with pony tails lurking,
I got the Wal-Mart blues,
The cash register ain’t checking,
A Dude on steroids tries to schmooze,
The cute pharmacist who just started working,
And I still got the Wal-Mart blues.

–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-The Misanthropic Misadventures of Myles Mayhew and His Moderately Manageable Mother


The Misanthropic Misadventures of Myles Mayhew
and His Moderately Manageable Mother

On a mostly moderate Tuesday morning clear,
Before the start of school,
he asked, “Mother dear,
have you seen my mathematical tools?”
To which she sneered,
“The calculator, abacus, or protracting rule?”
“No, I fear
something much more useful,
a sundial, the ultimate in time gear,
covered in precious jewels,
surely the whole class will cheer,
and I’ll be no fool,
Mr. Mugglywump will not jeer,
Farney Farnsworth might drool,
as my awesome wrist nears.”

–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-There’s Hole in My Argyle Sock


There’s a Hole in My Argyle Sock

There’s a hole in my sock,
Whatever will I do,
How can I walk,
With gum and chew,
Or attempt to talk,
While I’m very blue,
As those who gawk,
At the in Argyles in my shoes,
My socks are bound for dry dock,
The only path to choose,
Though not an angry walk,
I’ll pick green and blue
and dress ad hoc.

–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-The Original Hipster’s Apostles’ Creed


The Original Hipsters Apostles’ Creed

I have no doubts about the Original Hipster,
fabricator of the cosmos and this terrestrial sphere.
I am convinced of Jesus,
the Original Hipster’s only boy, our main spiritual landlord,
who was brought into being by the movement of the Hallowed Spirit,
born of the untouched mama of all humanity, Mary,
brought way down low by Pontius Pilate,
was martyrized on the cross, dead and gone,
spent the weekend in Hell,
one, two, three days in the grave he lay,
back again to say, “Got your text.”
Then the time comes,
he rides the great elevator home
to take his seat
at the Original Hipsters
right hand side,
to make the call,
on the walking dead
and living right.
I believe in the Hallowed Spirit,
a gathering of everybody,
a party of all God’s geeks,
forgiveness that never stops,
coming back at the end,
and staying past closing time.


–Richard Bryant

Food for Thought-The Flattened Circle of Time

The Flattened Circle of Time

I believe in the contemplation of the real,
As I hover around the flattened circle of time,
Bearing witness to the indescribable march
Toward nothing and everything,
The moment of supreme unawareness,
When the silence is shattered
By the ill-formed words
And lingering tastes
Of a thousand sleepless nights,
Grasping for an unseen glimmer
In a darkness to dim to see,
To faint to stumble,
To narrow to crawl,
A victim of my species,
Symptoms of an early fall,
Shuffling toward eternity,
As another night calls.

–Richard Bryant