clouds linger high
we scale pavement
smiling faces grimace
yielding random thoughts
suplications gambles distraught
splendid sun bright
shadows between walls
dark with secrets
ghosts of yesterdays
progress thwarted suddenly
we but flowers
beating hearts love
hands create endlessly
civilization goes on
children delight wonderfully
men are themselves
women articulate negotiations
i say go
no will hangs
inside my soul
life looks good
my squint permanent
faith bottomless ahead
we look together
rationalizing lovingly quietly
in collective thought
together yet alone
Author: mbrazfieldm
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the office – Marisela Brazfield
on a rainy day the stink rises rancid savory industrial primordial sweet modern within the pillars of great society here i am with my outcasts we together in all of it on most days to suffer is a blessing a day at the spa a swim in a lake around here on most nights they […]
the office – Marisela Brazfield
urban media
we the people are our own R. Murdochs when necessary
I Don’t Want to be a Sad Ghost – Kristin Kory
My heartache only sings in the middle. I don’t want to be a sad ghost. I don’t want to start like a memory and forget how to leave. I don’t want to be the recurring dream playing for an empty room. I don’t want to be the hunger behind eyelids, so weightless and […]
I Don’t Want to be a Sad Ghost – Kristin Kory
field notes from a bankrupt hopebroker 2.26
if we could be safe in our seats we could share of our misery shed tears and sometimes maybe smile just because we’ve learned to navigate it doesn’t mean we deserve less than this we too like softness color flowers and art we too like chicory coffee and 5 dollar donuts we too understand the worth of work the taste of sweat and the temperature of let blood we are dignified in our wreckage we stand tall in your false shame we smile kindly forgivingly at your hollow grief for us today we sit on this humble chair where when asked we dissect our terrors and we remain grateful to this stoic chair for holding our hands as we let loose of our fears
flower haiku
Shadow in the Frame: I Cast A Shadow – Christine E. Ray
in lost hoursdim roomsi silently moldmy handsin front ofbare bulbsproject distortedshadow puppetsagainstlonely wallsmovementslowineleganta mourning dovepierced throughthe breastby melancholy’ssharp sterling thornbeats its wingsraggedagainst ribbedcageof blueunable tolaunchfly free © 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash
Shadow in the Frame: I Cast A Shadow – Christine E. Ray
words less spoken 