Beautiful Little Girl

June 23, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

to all my sisters and brothers with much love thank you Precious ❤

Hey lovely bloggers😊. Let me share a lil bit of my personal experience with you all. Twas fun writing this and I hope it helps someone out there 😉

Happy reading 😁

Growing up I was labeled as ugly because of my beautiful dark skin and nappy hair. Beautiful was something else but definitely not my skin color and myself. So I started having self esteem issue, self hatred and low self confidence. I often wanted to change myself into something that woul fit their description of beauty but I couldn’t change who I was.

Beautiful was that light skinned girl with long straight hair and a thin figure. Something I was absolutely not.

Growing up I realised that what I was exposed to when I was little somehow affected how I see myself and that’s sad really. When someone would tell me that I’m beautiful I’d have that voice…

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indications and usage

June 22, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

its not the lining of the heart or the medulla that is swollen it is pain of the spirit anger at the lot resentment at the lack of fairness and extreme abhorrence of the violence in my orbit of which you know that i know i cant fly its just wishful thinking a survival mechanism from a childhood taken so there is absolutely no need to pathologize my just being human i understand youre just the man with the accreditation and i can get that my other man under the bridges of my nation is working on the fly both bringing me the holy candy to take the edge away of the inevitable lesson of having to turn the other cheek but due to heavy handed legal messes summoned by the maternal book of ancient testament coming in direct conflict with the law of teeth for teeth coupled with Eve and Adam’s eye disease i bear the mark of all mankind and gift of favorite sons free will is not for you to harvest in the laboratories of supply at no discount price for first time users

just the flu

June 22, 2019August 15, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

the magic leaves sanity a sacrifice ill pay for it tomorrow you gotta get some help tidal waves before me the river banks have failed screaming angels in a rage the faces flashing in the night i look for her and i cant find her sweet warm jello fingers pushing buttons to the elevator going up can you smell the gardenias wilting beeping and the blinking of the medical equipment sent tiny shocks of stress directly to the head the only way to soothe myself after a stressful situation was to savor the sensation of my eyes rolling to the back of my third eye it started with strained nerves and jittery eyelids tiny tear drops oozing from the corners and then the dark flowing through pin-hole relief of my private world painted with French carnival colors golds were greens reds that were milky blood pink old ship ropes and Macaque monkeys like the ones in Tangiers i remember while riding on the ambulance that late summer night

Seth 3: Christina’s rebuke

June 21, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

the road she is cruel and with little respite

but i made it to Your house

with the help of Ruach Elohim

i can raise my knuckles to Your door

and knock to be let in

YWHW this is your daughter

the mother of the boy

who is now in your eternal care

i see his hands and eyes and smile

in the wild flowers waltzing on the ground

i traversed the firmament all this way

for You to look me in the face

and give me a reason

because i’m only Your daughter

and i don’t know anymore

did You give Abraham his bosom

from these stones that hold Your strength

my bosom is torn wide apart

forsaken forgotten and in pain

the glimmer in the joy of light

that showers Your front steps

no longer bring me comfort

YHWH

You and i know what love can be

we both sent our sons

unto the world of man

but only Your’s came back

where did Opa go

June 20, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 38 Comments

accordions were not of import to me

until you were no longer there

the caramel and gray plaid La-Z-Boy chair

sat gaping at the ceiling wondering as i was

where did Opa go

we didn’t really talk no one taught me how

instinctively you knew though

that i loved your oversized navy blue trousers

and your red suspenders

except for the lederhosen not my style

regret burns hotter at night

while i sit silently on the kitchen counter

alone in the dark sometimes with pained wrists

and old cracked ribs dislocated in my youth

sit along beside me good times

where did Opa go

time rippled down your face

porcelined and freckled

both by illness and by cure

you would stare at mom’s cat

as the din of Lawrence Welk

seemed to echo from the corners of the room

where did Opa go

remember when i was 13

my socks were old and dingy

five sizes too big

and as you shook your head

you took out $50 from your wallet

and motioned me to get new socks

i just shrugged and smiled

turning my back on you

Mutta’s fancy mirror

stabbed me with

your puzzled dewey face

at my ignorant rejection

why did i let go

Opa

plea

June 19, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

Mercy, nourish the brilliance of my tarnished soul

it’s just a phase

June 19, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

the drops fall warm

like a resentful first kiss

placed crookedly on my lips

two broken children

dressed in archaic cloaks of sinful fathers

embalmed in summer rain

clasping hands in the park

you pointed at fancy bricks laid by FL Wright

your hero

we heard laughter from in the trees

we filled our heads with fantasy

of being greater than dirty jeans

booze coke

and motorcycles

what fools we were

but happy in our foolery

we’d stomp round town

wild haired green eyed queen

to her mohawked crowned king

while in the dampness of the night

we went our separate ways

on the dimly lit corner by House of Pies

to harvest broken proper mothers

up from their latest shag designer carpets

flown in from Rome

and as we punched our way through

explosive broken fathers

on Monday morning

we’d all pretend that our lives were wonderful

arena

June 18, 2019June 17, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

el sol hoy es mujer

con un vestido de arco iris

las bestias de toda especie

se mezclan en el desierto ajeno

a todo lo que amo mas

los dioses de las estrellas

nacen y mueren en el mismo suspiro

pero lo que no cuentan

es que un suspiro es una eternidad

los ríos correrán de abajo a arriba

y la civilización esta clavada en una nube

fuera de mi alcance

pero a lo que veo

es mejor así

enterrarme en la arena

areia

o sol hoje é mulher

com um vestido de arco-íris

as bestas de todos os tipos eles

se misturam no deserto alienígena

a tudo que eu amo mais

os deuses das estrelas

eles nascem e morrem no mesmo suspiro

mas o que não conta é que um suspiro é uma eternidade

os rios correrão de baixo para cima

e civilização está preso em uma nuvem

fora do meu alcance

mas o que eu vejo

é melhor assim

me enterre na areia

sand

the sun is a woman today

with a rainbow dress

the beasts of all kinds

mix in the alien desert

with everything i love the most

the gods of the stars

they are born and die in the same sigh

but what they don’t say

is that a sigh is an eternity

the rivers will run from bottom to top

and civilization is stuck in a cloud

out of my reach

but how i see it

it’s better that way

bury me in the sand

204 months

June 18, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

stars

and

peace magic

the Tip O’Neil

years latch key cutie big

eyed wild eurotrash bastard child in the days

of secret punk band shows underage law breaking a menace to the lawns

the paint on my tiny nails chewed down to the stubs scratching like a cat on the urban totem hey ho

no go not tonight the breeze cooled by something in my heart the hocus pocus speaks in tongues the snakes charm themselves to the crowds and through my throat i swallow 10 inch nails

smokey cries old men die but come again tomorrow with light bulbs in their hands of poison from the gods made with resin from the Tree of Life and so we are like them only for a while until the mercenaries come asking for our ransom in the faces who just won’t give a fuck

our communal star doesn’t point to the north but rather to a place that’s nowhere we could have been babies in the manger with the beasts to keep us warm but my momma was no virgin and your old man joe the drunkard rolling stone left to follow an alice cooper homage band i miss the days of after school of which i hardly went and a chance to interpret Shakespeare at our leisure the stars we caught when we swung high are still there and we beneath them