i too am wise

you’ve made it this far

         at the front step of mystery

i am sweet enter me you are man

    answer my question of why all is all

tell truth at risk of enticing your anger  you know

       i too am wise

deep is the diamond there’s a reason He hid it there

     you are the key to unleashing continued life

but where did it go wrong the seed it falls to nothing

      where did i lose center when did i gain pain

look into me and dare say it is Eve’s fault

           i ask you are man where does omnipotence end

i am the vessel the chalice the grail in code stop chasing your tail

     let us grow together why place your foot on my neck

does it please you to see me ground into the dirt

    my legs are strong my arms hold the children from

      the poisonous suns

i too am wise

     man come into my center at times i too am harlot

         and i become like a god my brother man

  my mind gets pulled into a thousand places

          but i know that what the king wants

               i am your pleasure the reason you exist

enter my warmth the ecstasy of my womb engulf yourself in the holy

     mine are the rainbows the rains and the wars

       mine are the secrets kept between my legs

          fools who thought of taming me

              have not quite made it back

Abe Lincoln blues

I loved the balmy Monday mornings, skipping school and eating candy bars for breakfast. I loved sitting on street corners and watch people beg and drink and carry on. Some would scream and yell at invisible entities. I, a mere ignorant child, would laugh at them.

On some Tuesday mornings I might go to some classes, English and Art. Nineteen eighty six was also a year of self decline and so I would become an internal rager. I’d scream in silence and yell very quietly, almost apologetically and like a mouse. I was my own entity.

It was around the cold season in LA when I met Taino at the Cecil. He was a friend of spare cock Amos. I suppose by today’s social and political standards Taino was a transgender person. A male to female.

There were discussions about the Iran-Contra affair at school. But, I was too high to care. The internal me was asleep in a bigotry of soul, intellect and spirit. Something in me was hurting awful bad and illicit street medication provided a wave of relief like nothing else I could have ever imagined.

My city was filled with anger and deep pockets of despair and poverty. My city was also filled with anger and discontent and profound pockets of despair, pain and prosperity. I quickly deduced that money does not necessarily hurt or help, but it never brought happiness. Not the kind you feel when you hug a puppy or your mom sings to you or your Da stays up with you when you had fever. I’ve always remembered the first time I hugged a puppy. Taino and spare cock did the best they could with the other things I sorely wanted.

During the cold season in 1986 I also began to feel something toward God. It was a cartoon I saw in The LA Times. The Challenger blew up in the heavens and it was televised. It appears that the astronauts had touched His face. I was high and sad and uneasy. Internally, I began to cave into myself, to think too much, to question and to doubt myself. I began to imagine that God felt we were becoming too bold.

On a rare occasion, I was pleased to be challenged by my school principal to write a report on Abraham Lincoln. For years I thought he looked really bitching; all Emo before Emo was a thing.

Grady learned different perspectives of global political history that 1986. I understood that in some ways human nature and our own personal choices would always drive the civilization inside of us before any collective could flourish.

That year, I had my fist brush of psychological testing. My principal felt that I was confused for being of the opinion that the Union wasn’t aiming at freeing the slaves first, per se, but rather in uniting the country. My folks never got wind of the situation and if they did, they probably thought I’d grow out of it.


my way …

i loved the balmy Monday mornings skipping school and eating candy bars for breakfast i loved sitting on street corners and watch people beg and drink and carry on some would scream and yell at invisible entities i a mere ignorant child would laugh at them

on some Tuesday mornings i might go to some classes English and art nineteen eighty six was also a year of self decline and so i would become an internal rager i’d scream in silence and yell very quietly almost apologetically and like a mouse i was my own entity

it was around the cold season in LA when i met Taino at the Cecil he was a friend of spare cock Amos i suppose by today’s social and political standards Taino was a transgender person a male to female

there were discussions about the Iran-Contra affair at school but i was too high to care the internal me was asleep in a bigotry of soul intellect and spirit something in me was hurting awful bad and illicit street medication provided a wave of relief like nothing else i could have ever imagined

my city was filled with anger and deep pockets of despair and poverty my city was also filled with anger and discontent and profound pockets of despair pain and prosperity i quickly deduced that money does not necessarily hurt or help but it never brought happiness not the kind you feel when you hug a puppy or your mom sings to you or your Da stays up with you when you had fever i’ve always remembered the first time i hugged a puppy Taino and spare cock did the best they could with the other things i sorely wanted

during the cold season in 1986 i also began to feel something toward God it was a cartoon i saw in the LA Times the Challenger blew up in the heavens and it was televised it appears that the astronauts had touched His face i was high and sad and uneasy i internally i began to cave into myself to think too much to question and to doubt myself i began to imagine that God felt we were becoming too bold

on a rare occasion i was pleased to be challenged by my school principal to write a report on Abraham Lincoln for years i thought he looked really bitching all Emo before Emo was a thing

grady learned different perspectives of global political history that 1986 i understood that in some ways human nature and our own personal choices would always drive the civilization inside of us before any collective could flourish

that year i had my fist brush of psychological testing my principal felt that i was confused for being of the opinion that the Union wasn’t aiming at freeing the slaves first per se but rather in uniting the country my folks never got wind of the situation and if they did they probably thought i’d grow out of it

Sunday school

Photo by mbrazfield 2019

i’ve been having dreams of clouds and angels but in the visions the angels are grotesque explosive different than what tenet of organized religion has shown me they live everywhere in the liquor store the launder mat my potted plant Aunt Ruth’s Chihuahua they are meaty beings with fluffy hands some even smoke cigars my favorite is a Mae West look a like her name is Hortance she has foul language she does with a cockney accent too i’ve been having dreams of me falling through clouds and the angels fall with me i’m screaming my head off but stop mid air every once in a while to check my watch the guardian angels assigned to me smoke way too much pot they’re always late to pick me up when i’ve fallen through Dante’s layers the other day i did ask Fidel if the rumors about him and Che were true but Che floated in with three stiff mojitos we all just quieted down some things are better left to the dead my friend i’ve been having dreams of clouds and angels they hide in the fox holes of the sky boot camp for the war of good and evil amongst men i’ve bruised the tenets a little sorry Ma some things are just so boring some things are just for me to grapple and doesn’t Yahweh forgive our stuff anyway

to trip

shivering in the bedroom

trying to find a slightly less mended Chanel

middle aged

anxiety on my tongue

finger nail polished half chewed off

scar tissue protrudes on my left knuckle

the difference in the mosh pits was

we all beat

each other up together

the other morning i went out

to see some band play

they weren’t quite what i remembered

slower thicker grayer

yet still crazy

jacked up rockin

in some of our heads

high on beet juice and weed

when i stand in my room

i don’t want to just be rockin in my head

i should go to the beauty clinic

and laser off this scar

but i’m not ashamed by it

besides i might read Bukowski in the waiting room

and offend some old Barbie

i’d like to be banged by that bass player

and have him pluck on my thing

and then there’s Beck on Mt. Washington

singing Spanish riffs into the mike

the band has never heard of me

but we both know how to twirl and punch

and they have to go home to their wives

standing in my bedroom

my moves aren’t quite as swift

the best band i ever knew went disco

and the new bands lack the rage

i try to start the mosh pit

and give the bass player my number

but they twitter about health

things

yoga things

beet juice recipes

CBD things

i watch the boba settle in my milk tea

i know what my fate is

but it’s too gruesome to process

i won’t land the bassist

cloudy head

pic by mbrazfield 2019

i didn’t always know

that life would be

ok

i was never sure

who would be there

but

my understanding of the

workings of the world

would

arrive some day i

guessed a lot at

seven

so i watched the

war planes fly fast

t.v.

kept my heart curious

about how life could

have

been but didn’t quite

happen that way for

me

but i have ten

fingers and ten toes

i

can still walk and

talk although nonsense it

may

be and i can

laugh and sing off

key

and i can find

those old reels of

the

blitzkriegs and still feel

the sadness for the

world

my head those clouds

i somehow knew well

just

a child i was

lost in the luftwaffe

of

life’s adults who were

possibly less well equipped

than

me a little kid

mastering the power to

heal

a vesper

sun and moon greet and kiss

either side of their cosmic cheeks

today i don’t walk among the people

for romance style gain or art

it took time much of it

even heavy parallels to this universe

of squalor in carnival color

today i’ve come down deep

into the cracks in everything

so said Leonard

i small as i am look inside

the glass now empty the pipes

rigs foils all of it wasted away

in an instant of solemn mystic revolution

soft and quiet in the rancid room

on the corner of this street

sons of man queens and goddess

the stars are coming out

from the ancient rubble

from whence angels and demons fall

to look at me not my disease

i grotesquely beautiful in triumph

i’m over me released myself per se

to the right the ruins of the past

to the left the fragile bridge i’ll tread

across to take upon my care

the tender new i

made even by the equinox of life

shards

rain and Halloween 14 lost boygirl

LA let’s play East H is the oyster

let’s go nowhere what have i got to lose

streaks of time fingers and others touching

what was part of a dowry gone poisoned

my turn to burn the cancer of this pain

rage shame weakness and hate

the mark of incomprehensible

where did it go wrong

i’ll say it plain

they took my innocence

my sense of self

spirit and mind

and you expect me to shut up

the weed is grown

and life takes course

confusion sets the stage

and the ocean swallowed me whole

shoreline

the nutty wafts of kelp breeze

wrap around my body

looking at the waves they crash

the little crabs shake

their tiny pinchers at them

they all just laugh  

their foamy locks behind them

my fingers remind me

that i’m digging in the sand

i smile on my left side

two young lilac gulls screech

over some meaty mussels

my attention zooms in at the ferris wheel

closing my eyes

subtle waves of nauseous panic come

but you’re gone

your arms not there to hold me

your lips can not whisper

your hungry desires in my ear

your wandering finger tips caressing

the nipples on my breasts

as i whispered i want you

we both laughed

the piercings in your lips

they caught my hair

we clasped tattooed hands

the deepness in your voice

only for me

subtle wind moans

only to be cut by youthful laughter

holding my knees

those demons prick at me

your notes didn’t answer my questions