born
under
the
sun
clean
warm
life
affirming
she
shows
her
face
unto
her
father
who
greets
her
star
with
nightingale
song
flor
Author: mbrazfieldm
trees
in dream i walk PicoUnion
Lydia Lunch hair do
fringe beneath my eyes
the hotdog vendor burns
her inventory
hands in jean jacket pockets
a gold Volvo stops an inch from me
i wear tap shoes to hear a click
because the LAFD sirens sicken me
in the sky there is a subtle sun
negotiating with the trees
one particular tree caught my eye
as he bent in an uproar
almost majestic in size
he blocked me from Hyperion’s
cancerous sighs
chewing Bazooka Joe’s
careful of my side eyeing
in case the fentanyl groupies
demand my food bank box
the city tired as she is
steady her sidewalks remain
in spite of the oppression
‘and the wind began to howl’
protested from a Tennessee plate
Robert England cabin
suddenly the driver and i lock eyes
as lady Vyvanse begins to ebb inside
my pupils begin to show
but my dream turns out
is a hell bound reality
stoic
the magnolia trees
with hearty roots
ripping through sidewalks
i walk with empty hand
your face grey eyes fedora
button down vintage shirt
Dickie pants a reall bad ass
appears to me like a mirage
me a sick old girl
grown leathery tough
round my ages
im astonished how easy
its become to not give a fuck
when the Los Feliz sun my face kisses
then a mouthy bird with riot chirps
suck me back among those trees
those quiet late dark nights
when in your car
id give you head
pleading in my heart
youd love me back
yet as years
travel on my breaking soul
your face that i use to adore
is just as stoic as ever
Sun Valley ’77 in ’23
rocket pops blue tongues
raspberry lemon salute
sweetness in my soul
bitter beer hotdog
smoke woodsy lingers in my
ponytail swooshing
the hogs growl as the
jean and leather veterans’
eyes well up with Taps
the leathery feel
of my uncle’s tired hands
while i trace his scars
a little young girl
did see the poignant pain
his tribulations
forever brothers
gone away heroes to the
Elysium Fields
woman now i am
involuntold unto wars
of chemical kind
inventory i
do take cloaked in the doctrine
of recycled pain
standing wind i hear
not the cheer of victory
the dragon is nigh
troopers in the rain
wet uniforms drenched in tears
blood flows in bad will
poignant still are the
wounds only men understood
i still stand by you
fallen do not land
social napalm comes again
eyes stay vigilant
the flicker
the damp cold of the night
stuck to faces like wet tissue paper
in the alley where we smoked
being cool knowing all
i saw the flicker
invisible the signal
i shrugged it off
as too much alcohol
just the same
the flicker was there
tiny sparks of anguish
her eyes flashed
like wings on fireflies
then she slept
i took some steps
toward her head was brick
vomit eulogized the space
shoes torn and taped simultaneously
her wig tarry straw
7 of her fingernails fungused raw
morbid were my thoughts
approaching her in wonder
sounds escaped here and there
from her cavernous mouth
two lips as if she wore black licorice
upstairs above us
a hipster whistled
dark is the night he tweeted
the holy 18:28 she repeated
both bowed our heads to the flicker of our fate
her thighs
near the exits she stalls
pondering how to leave
the halls are all she’s known
selling pussy causing brawls
she says in sobbing whispers
before reporting to dad
i’m too old for this journey
legs bruised lips split by the cops
she mouthed off while raising her fists to the sky
then a shooting took over
so they let her off
with a warning that judged her
deep in her soul
later come problems
with bottles of booze
her daddy just told her
go visit Bruce
she stops at the station
to clean up her thighs
IG post
Terre Haute Indiana
here are we
the older youngs
free we are in cages of deceit
roaming their streets
coordinates
34.043926, -118.242432
live hear in death daily
hung tooth bad finger
blue the deal of song
we hum in hallucinations
good feet bad path
lay at your door step
cardboard deluxe
population dense
in invisibility
afterglow of probability
selling
taking
smuggling
gaping
puffing away social security
for us the Depression didn’t end
soup kitchen tourist
flop house nudists
we sweat it out
ashes torches broken spirits
smarter roaches
landlords watch the flock
Jimmy lost his luck
blue like artic ice
lips parted breath is gone
some one will call kin
near Terre Haute Indiana
anonymous alcoholic
dawn
it starts
bitter thoughts regurgitating
that’s how it begins
spinning gusts of pain appear
that hold me down to drown
fighting back the need to kill off
those words that bind the lies that shelter
self rage bitterness destruction hatred sadness anger doubt trepidation
until the moon in the inky sky releases the essence
of suffering to dreams pulling me deeper into putrid wading pools
struggling to stand on my two feet i raise fists in victory
i like to watch a woman
i like to watch a woman eat
so much of the female fate
deciphered by her rhythmic jaws
i like to watch her chew her food
she is grateful for the bounty
of the bite she thanks
her Jesus in her thoughts
i like to watch her throat roll down
the morsels of her offerings
sliding down to nourish
the body that will surely
have to fight again
words less spoken 