American Mohawk v3

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Location: Niagara Falls, New York, United States

Christopher Bradley is the published author of the Poetry Books American Mohawk, Dancing Over The Fury, and Alpha Zulu 15:00. His fully published autobiography appears at First Child of the Digital Age Chris owns the consulting interest Noise Control Research which has the ability to build websites for customers and tweak resumes for the iPhone. He has Written on the subjects of Raves, Sweatshops, Literature, Travel, and Music. Current Projects include expanding his interests in film review. Chris also edits an article every now and again in under the user name Chris Bradley. If you want to know more about Chris, read the autobiography mentioned above. You are likely to find good contact information there as well.


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About the Book

American Mohawk is a collection of poems spanning from 1995 to 2003. It covers travels and excursions from Chicago to New York to Boston to Toronto and the beyond. It talks about life in small town Buffalo New York in comparison. And most of all, it is about trying to find an identity in a world so often calculating. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

About the Author

Chris Bradley has been collecting his writings since 1995. With the encouragements of friends, professors, and others, he hopes to make a positive impact on a few lives by encouraging literacy. He has been published other places on the internet and otherwise. Chris enjoys working with WikiNews and some high technologies people in internet relay chat to develop interviews among those who know what's coming next. Do some googling, you might find him out there in the ether.

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The Neuroscience of Christopher St.

By Christopher J. Bradley

©2003 for William


Lady Ada’s fingers dance

On an ivory punch

And the cards fly

She is the first

Of the mutltitudinous

Modern day conquests of Babbage.

Our new Rome rises

The seeds scatter through the wilderness

Sowing the Grapes of Wrath of Milnet

In the home-brew clubs.

A hundred thousand Mitnicks are born

On the waves of fruitfully colored sand

Vacuum tubes shine Basic on the retinas

Of young wizards and fighters.

This is the Proving Grounds of deep space

The calculators have long since fallen by the wayside

In the currents of the war to end all wars

They will be the relics of an established author.

I am a young keyboard player

With a Commodore 64 and an RCA television

The magazine arrives and I trip my vision

Over the letters and sculpture on the cover.


William Gibson and Bruce Sterling

Inspired musicians and artists it said

Some of the kinds of artists

That took up the animal rights and other political causes.

The journalist pointed out the new move

From Industrialism to Informationalism

I had to come to terms with them

I asked my aunt for some money to buy a first book at Walden?s.

The flechette of his stylo needles text into thought

Case is fixing up at the Gentleman Loser.

Molly is tooled up all in leather with her deadly nails

3 jane is mixing up signals in the Spire.

Riviera is taking in the Scorpion Sting

The Hwang is cutting Black Ice on the Hitachi

Case is riding the back of a silver virtual shark

The Turings are being offed by the landscape spider drones.

Neuromancer is plotting a merge with Wintermute

The haunting spectre of the Finn is overshadowing his communiqués.

On the Sensenet riot hack by the Panther Moderns

The Masses are executed like code.


Time froze and I got to work

My BBS became Sensenet

My handle was Flatline

Suddenly dragons and outer space

Turned into Coding and Implants.

All of the colors became vivid

I had to get an IBM

The true tech heads came out of the webwork

The Matrix found me with Charles.

Bobby Newmark punches deck

While his mother?s hooked on stim

His problems with the vampires are many

With their shark cartilage makeovers

And their jet set whores.

The spirits of Ja are rattling out their Voodoo incantations

Of the fragmented archetypes of the

Voidspace archipeligoes.

While her eyes shine on the catfish farm

And her father?s polycarbon nightwing

Crashes during a Yakuza hit.

Turner sets tensor rigs in her hotel

To take out the flak Mercs

And ushers her into infamy

In the Davinci contraption Fokker.


That?s about the time I met Andy

The Star Wars role-player.

And the walnut hit the car

And we scattered into the woods

The party was broken.

One night we spent time in Andy’s garage

Fanning out the drums on a single snare

From the Violent Femmes

After I bought his 800k Floppy Drive

‘Let me get out Like I Blister in the Sun.’

Sally Shears is shopping with an Origami princess

While Angie Mitchell makes her Debut

Everything is Stim now

The world wrapped out in goggles.

A Chrome face hangs in the void cover

A ghetto cruiser has a skull headpiece

The judge is resting in the garage

This is Gentry’s turf and Bobby’s on a slab.

The Voodoo priestess is with her

And a miniature flying thing attempts murder

She is vanished into the night

Our Mona Lisa of the cybersphere.