blizzard
of
thoughts
tapeworm
of
my
soul
what
now
take
steps
the
cave
awaits
Author: mbrazfieldm
contemplation haiku
fire
cracks
wood
dry
lights
the
sky
stars
for
your
eyes
strong
hold
the
heart
thanks
you
composing a dirge
shame
like a flower
blush
bleed the rain
silence
hums the snow
thrust
against complacent waves
dusk
winter grows tired
morning
falls like silk
tired
rest now still
rarity
little green cactus
kneeling in the sunlight
coffee soil all around
its white pot-bellied pot
heart calm palms dry
no dust storms in the lights
crooner serenades me
tells me about the days of wine and roses
that have left an unclear life
thoughts dawning
eyes drawn into a book shelf
toys pictures memories
rubbing elbows with Buk and the Bard
while the cats purr the moment away
still my heart calm
arteries stretching out like tiny arms
shut my eyes and wonder how
i can be happier
trilobite, us*
hey its me
standing here
watching pixelated faces lecture me
Mrs. K spits
as the psyche creaks
politicos burrow into the livers
the decorated soldier begs in vain
dog puke dog and starves to death
and any one rich man holds the Sun hostage
we’ve arrived
mutated as this
guilted to breathe it in
carefully engineered rhetorical prison
abandoned lots with broken earth
and wifi chambers force my heaving love to transfer through a tiny yellow ball
long gone by the days of my defense of common sense our bloods leak out of the pipelines
cut from this
mouth cannot afford to feed so we label it starvation chic Spring collection 2021
from a city where His houses are closed but the fuck joints spread eagle open
and instead of elevating our children to a sacred garden
your success plan exclusively gives us their early termination option involuntarily of course
beat into this
bleeding and punching at it punching at it punching at it for this
self sacrificing to it
choking like it
mutated
berated
humiliated
because of greed
used by it
raped and sodomized by it
sold down the sewer by it
indentured to it
turned stupid through it
sterilized by it
the soul cauterized
hands plucked off
the tongue
the dust
the micro wave
broken fists bow to the 5G gods and all of the ROC’s men
somnambulant diagnosis reach for the
SSRI’s
SNRI’s
MAOI’s
we’ve voted into this desperate resignation
we’ll pay into the bottomless recession
that put together with our farthest most ancestors brought back from heaven cant help us from debt
commandments will be outlawed
turn in thy neighbor will be a passport to breathe one more 8 hour pain filled day
charity will be useless
schooling will be punished
the Statue of Liberty shall pawn her torch for three dollars
God particles will slice time wide open
the horned beasts will be the priests
because hell hath no fury like the secretary of state scorned
the new world order hid away Galileo’s brain
law will pass
nature will pass
we will pass
men on fire will eat men of eternal flames
those who are spared will be consumed by the madness of the NYSE silent bell
space stations will be the new sub stop
packed lemmings with visible dog tags
shooting off operation warp speed go go go to build castles in the clouds for them if there’s a future Florida
lord Silly Con forbids your show of common grace Queen Squad will soon order you off with my head simply because she can
*this offering was inspired by the prophetic genius of Bukowski’s Dinosauria, we
5 line haiku
crumbs gone
hungry blue Jays ate
moss bone dry
sun light dwindles
cast long stare
sunset five hours long
hearty moth cornered
gray wings horizontal rest
lantern burning down
quilt my American confession
i have nothing left for tomorrow everything is almost gone inside of my head
i am overwhelmed overtaken
i am just one person
i am struggling with this quilt that i have stitched over an entire lifetime
my fabric squares each a segment and time a lesson a book a song a smile anything shiny anything dull
i stare at my quilt
today it looks tattered
i see a little blood stain
i see big pools of blood
in my eastern squares where a lot of intersectionality began
i see struggle little wrinkles threads pulled to the side giving way
old old cotton that has traversed the generations
to the west of my quilt i see trails like the topography maps
blood gold hard labor fires metal beasts
i see part of the world coming together
a tic tac toe board the X’s over the O’s over here
the powerful always on top drawing the line over whoever they feel like
tonight i’ve turned off the volume on my tv set
i click from channel to channel and in my head i make up stories
i make up narratives and conversations for those people on the screen
those who are better than me
have spilled a lot of bleach a lot of indigo a lot of oil
a lot of grease a lot of dirt a lot of bills a lot of vomit a lot of shit
onto my quilt
i don’t know how i can keep myself warm or cold or hot
i don’t know how to press buttons day in and day out and wait to be told what to do
i have lost my needles in a haystack in the world ran by wires
i don’t know where i am most of the time
i try to hang on and i look at the trees and they have branches and leaves
i tried to examine how the leaf stem sticks to the tree
i try to articulate argue examine breakdown pull together any instinct
of how the tree and its leaves stay together
i don’t know anymore
when i look at butterflies or hummingbirds they look gray
when i look at the grass or the flowers they looks black
when i look at my hands or my face it looks red
when i look at my feet and my veins they look blue
when i pass through my doorway every night i’m alone
i feel like my quilt squares are falling to the floor
while doing the laundry i meet my neighbor
she’s covered i’m covered but we’re both naked
our quilts in our baskets all have the same snags the same wear and tear
i a professional i a quiet person she a mother she a beautiful hard worker
yet our quilts make us sisters
her quilt is jagged my quilt is jagged
we look at each other but we’re really detached
we are left there for all the civilizations to see
for all the viciousness to scratch at
and we look down and we say excuse me
after i take my quilt from the washer i bring it back home
it looks the same as i seek for solace looking at my corners of the ceiling
wondering when the cobwebs might come in again
it’s so dull with no life no little creatures to give me purpose
no little creatures to cup in my hand or cup in a cup
to put outside so that i can smell some kind of air
i returned to my tv screen and turned up the volume
and there are hundreds of different colors different words and different weapons
different levels of hatred and anger and selfishness
i look to see in a crowd
in the sea
wired humanity where the unpluggables are
where my tribe is not on any one side of an aisle
i will not be on any side for any style
i am who i am
i turn away and pick up my quilt with its little squares
i remember fondly when i was four and a fried chicken drumstick hit the bee and flower square
and left a permanent shortening mark
then i look up toward the middle of my quilt
a Bohemian style square i see where there was a cigarette mark left by an old boyfriend
on the other side of the quilt with the tasseled square with cuts in it where i hid my money when i was 12
to run away because life was too hard
little did i know what i know now
toward the left side of my quilt there’s a blue velvet square
in the middle bleach marks from days lost to Neil Y’s needles
then toward the top the darker squares with the solid bold yellow flowers
that’s where most of the cotton stuffing is
hand stitches coming apart exposing nothing
i think of my neighbor and how we both looked down
to me she’s my neighbor a woman
to me she is somebody she is a life
i look pass the cemetery skyline and i can see all of the headstones
flower vases peppering the hillside
those were people alive one time or the other
zigzagging in and out of my own life
i wonder what their smiles looked like
i wonder what their voice sounded like
abruptly my meditation cut by a police siren
another fight somewhere down the road
i draw myself back on the tv screen
orange men
white men
brown men
black men
pink men
red men
yellow men
all kinds of men
all kinds of women
everyone just as righteous as the other one
do they see me
do they see my neighbor
do they see her children
do they see her pets
do they see the babies in the neighborhood
do they hear their cries
do they see their daddies as they comeback midday because they lost their jobs
do they see their mommies trying to type on swipe screen buttons
asking for help to feed the family
do they see the old man
do they see the old woman
can they hear what they’ve experienced
what’s going on in Chattanooga
what’s going on in Beijing
what’s going on in Australia
what’s going on in Anaheim San Antonio New York or Canada
what’s going on in the Middle East
what’s going on i wonder
i stop as my voice cracks and quivers
when i lay down and close my eyes
i relish the knot in my throat the hot tears sliding down my eyes
as imperfect as i am as imperfect as i have been defined to be
by the powers who were and those to come
i can still see the humanity
and i can find hundreds of thousands just like me
the people’s helios

night walk haiku
extending yawning branches
buds golden green
my thoughts flanked by moonlight