esteemed universe it’s me in America 20/20 it’s Thanksgiving Day i always wondered as a child why we need it one special day to give thanks when living in LA if you made it from your car to your front door without a mugging without a yoga advert with your self-esteem intact without the religious right up your ass without the politically correct police and no peace that was a time to be grateful esteemed Universe it’s me we’re in a pandemic 2020 i dream of Budapest but there’s no reason for me to i’ve never been i think about Vietnam and how my tax dollars are still paying for it but i am grateful i’m grateful for Tom i’m grateful for legs i’m grateful for old Mrs. Johnson who served for 9 years sewing on legs and pushing hearts back into their chest esteemed Universe it’s me from America we just had an election i’m grateful that in my long long time here on Earth i have not fallen victim to the illusion of democracy we have a presidency we just need a meat puppet every 4 years dictatorship cocktail anyone esteemed Universe this is me from Los Angeles California insignificant everyday person a little shy big mouth some brains left today on Thanksgiving i will walk through the streets i grew up in i have a lot of walking to do i look forward to the Twilight Zone marathon every year around this time but no such luck cable company wants me to watch horror flicks which in hindsight is pretty pertinent esteemed Universe this is me 20 20 i’m quietly politely gracefully ranting and ripping my brains out in a corner of this world joined but everybody else in America esteemed universe thank you for Pulp Fiction and Samuel L Jackson thank you for Allen Ginsberg and Billie Holiday thank you for the Blues thank you for the USA thank you for allowing me to be a rebel thank you for allowing me to question when it is not safe or fashionable to do so esteemed Universe i really dig the fact that i don’t buy the bullshit of the left or of the right they don’t know do they esteemed universe by the way i’m really really grateful for that elderly woman from Mexico who has nine grandchildren and pushes her shopping cart of steamed corn at 10 at night honking her bicycle horn feeding and nurturing kids in the neighborhood who are hungry after video games in exchange for $2 so that she can feed her own i’m grateful for her smile and her grace i’m grateful for her wisdom i’m grateful for everything about her which encompasses human decency thank you universe for allowing me to be who i am i don’t know how much time i have as America the great crumbles
Author: mbrazfieldm
tired like Kaufman
the sun is out she wears orange
freckles are her spots that cause chaos
upon the lines in the sand yesterday
the avocado trees gave without regret green
they were now the willows hang there
i just another organism single celled alone
yes the grass blades dewey with blood
from shedding flower cannibals deep among clouds
then the bus explodes its breaks the chosen
ones get off weighed down by sad
moons broken heart he a stoic far
beyond the grasp of the Neptune comic
ulcer

acid rain drop tear
eye field of grain
gypsy cloth for burial
standing we don’t stop
just beyond the starline
shelter roof of water
floor of heaven hell
grew cold of waiting
ulcer in the chiding
mouth of goddess in
between the deaths of
lives less killed our
candied bitterness let’s build
a temple maybe five
before the swallows fly
back stoned to nests
tipping over ashes was
the flowers of my
bed in hair graying
God particle
by Rob Banks
….another slow imprisonment of another
Case of someone’s deranged vicious
intent….silently I remain ill at ease
watching the sickness manifest around
me…daily….
Home is where the hell is…
story of my life…
Carnival music funeral laughter
waiting for impending disaster
if I keep moving I’ll find a way out
but sometimes out
is actually only going further down….
She adorns lofty heights
with the wisdom of angels deep within
her eyes….
Flatlined smile awake all night
torn apart inside
she always takes the time to try
a ghost materialized back into life.
thank you Rob Banks Pope of Punk
for giving me the greenlight to post this
lost patience haiku
turn around i do
poison from a blue riot
to war i accept
LA Blue by my window

utero nostri nova terrae tuae

grady’s psalm too point oh
wet sand stink in my nose
thoughts of another month gone
but funny thing
im walking on my city street
Master Reeves literature check
big ass cup of iced Americano check
sun shining on my head check
to the left of my short shank
a begging tent with liquor spills
to the right of my short shank
my jean ripped on a baby palm tree
traffic below the Wilshire boulevard bridge
connecting insanity and greed
sometimes an old woman will shake her fist
at the medical marijuana rig
going at a breakneck slow speed
at the corner the fruit vendor speaks
to his regulars about the Trump defeat
but i squeeze by avoiding getting sucked in
to consequences of a life so alien to me
well i’ve never been to Pensicola or
Miami FLA im from Californayay
my lips pucker out a lame refrain
then i wonder about Bettie Page
her life as a saint
it gets late
sky hued like wild honey
littered is my view
with COVID warnings
i reach to pick at the mask round my neck
in respect for a millennial child
with each crispy step to my place
traces of hurled up chow mein
discarded condom wraps
and leaflets notifying me Jesus saves
slumlord litigation

the news today
took my breath
away the public
secret man reaches
for my head
promises of peace
and wonder only
if i keep
my lips closed
shut and abort
my thoughts into
a holding cell
of never ending
purple walls dotted
with the fingers
of the poor
brave angels with
wings plucked by
the slumlords sticky
fly trap paper
even the Cecil prays
