One More

I’ve lived here long enough,
and taken enough guff,
living in the city that never truly sleeps

For 15 years,
I’ve shed enough tears,
buried the dead while they still lived,
waiting for their final curtain call with 30 years still left on the clock,
Burying reality with sex and liberal doses of tina,
Chasing euphoria again,
And again,
And again

I gave my heart to the unavailable,
Wondering if I was even able,
To give what wasn’t given to me,
only to be sorely disappointed,
Expecting to be loved on equal footing,
Only to not,
Never knowing I needed to stop expecting too much for very little,
Operating on a loop,
Praying for relief

After leaving the church of the perpetual ego worship,
Wondering when my feet would completely touch terra firma,
Thoughts in the clouds,
Actions rooted in the baser of human instinct,
I realized I was 34,
No better than I was at 24,
My heart hit the floor,
Realizing I built the premise of moving here on sand,
Delusions of being the alphaQueen holding court in my head

I know now I don’t need to curry favor with anyone other than me,
That I have another chance to be,
What I want to be,
In good ole NYC

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

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Battle Cry #20

YOU WILL NOT REPLACE US,

the ones who seek equal footing with their fellow brother,
sister,
lover,
mother,
father

YOU WILL NOT REPLACE US,

as you seek disharmony,
fighting for what you think could be,
struggling to see,
truth in that old Bob Dylan spiritual,
“The Times They Are a Changin”

YOU WILL NOT REPLACE US,

the nigger,
the dyke,
the faggot,
the kyke,
the spic,
the snowflake cuck loving liberal beatnik,
who fought amongst the hatred of generations past who seek a place in the proverbial American discusssion called “how far do we need to come before you call us your brothers and sisters?”

YOU WILL NOT REPLACE US,

As you seek to divide rather than unite,
As you seek that perfect land Hitler strove for and drove into war only to lose,
As you seek communion with hate,

YOU WILL NOT REPLACE US,

And as history seals your fate,
Throwing your weight,
Behind the Orange Cheeto who sits ontop of a throne made of Russian blood, sweat and tears,
As you stoke and stoke and stoke peoples fears,

YOU WILL NOT REPLACE US,

as history will soon consign you to the ash heap of history,
progress will catchup,
Only to remind you,
It’s better to love,
Than hate your neighbor 

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Untitled #7

I feel old,
Gone are the days of my being bold,
Of throwing caution into the wind,
Of late night sexual exploits,
Of excessive drinking with glee,
Of living many a late night carefree

As if I woke up,
Only to discover the 35 year old man in front of my mirror,
Instead of the 25 year old queen I was seemingly not too long ago,
Wondering where did she go?!?!

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Crazy (for Mom)

You can’t fix crazy,
Nor can you faze me,
Telling me all is well,
When I know that as clear as the sounds of a ringing bell,
That for all the years that pass,
You’ve shown me things,
Just stay the same,

Yet I don’t blame you,
But rather the figure in the mirror,
The one who looks an awful lot like me,
Who should have let it be,
Letting the phone ring,
Hoping you’d get the point,
That I needed to find my own slice of heaven,
Instead of killing my soul,
Squeezing through the eye of the needle,
Hoping to fit into your heaven

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Manic Comedown

When you’re manic,
You start to panic,
wondering if after the comedown,
The dreaded manic comedown,
people will see you,
Either as the one whose soul feels oh so blue,
wondering if people will see him as the calm,
quiet type ever again,
wondering if he’s worthy around

or as the imbalanced one,
picking one sided fights he knows he’ll win in the moment,
never long term,
others simply wishing he’d go away,
a reminder of the oh so not so subtle frailties of human nature

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Truism #10

Just when I thought I didn’t have to worry,
thinking I’ll never have to scurry,
Rushing to pay my bills,
Life reminds me,
Especially when my face is red,
filled with intoxicating rage,
Knowing I put my business on hold,
to join the fold,
A rag-tag group of drunks,
addicts and the permanently lost,
to do the bidding of a man who doesn’t give a mediocre fuck,
He’s made his fast buck,

Never,
NEVER EVER do business with friends

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017