i often forget his smile the glint of his eyes pulling an old dog eared letter i touch his cursive delicate but unintelligible there are no particular ideas in the tight ringlets of pale black ink his mind was full of scorpions she never returned to him they both mad with ego and one uppance i progeny alone i with a heart full of wasps
Author: mbrazfieldm
dama de fogo
from the depot 🙂
heart
under
your beating
laughing rhythm
burns the fire of
joy like no other at
watching the delft blue beyond
spread away in grandeur pageant
so the lady of the golden light
may dance for the ushers of Nirvana

there is always hope

in preparation
time sits on the shelves
next to all the dreams
just an index finger’s length
out of reach
her side of the wall
sustains the portraiture
of her bloodline
his side the world’s articles of hate
never knowing of each other
going about their life
the wall that separates them both
in between the unseen darkness waits for them
patiently there void of light
and when that time marches from its sitting place again
to guide their souls into the other world
the ego skin from them will finally be shed
flagelación cerebral
from the depot 🙂
me
gusta caminar de noche
preferible
sin la luna
esconderme
en mis pensamientos
reír
como niña como nunca pude
pensar
en dulces y juegos
y olvidar todo lo que fui
flagelação cerebral
eu
gosto de andar a noite
preferível
sem a lua
esconda-se
em meus pensamentos
ria
como uma garota como eu nunca pude
pense
em doces e jogos
e esquecer tudo o que eu era
cerebral flagellation
i like to walk at night
preferably without the moon
hide in my thoughts
laugh like a little girl like i never could
think of candy and games
and forget everything i was
whole of a part
from the depot 🙂
the rain has stopped and the sidewalks smell like dog piss and dying roses but i like the fragrance of my clove cigarette the stop lights change every two minutes nothing strange i can’t place my emotions today i feel pressured to rub elbows with the crowd across the street but i can’t i don’t feel well my body pains me and i want to cry taking a few steps away from the Tropical i breath in deep a few yards away is a pile of rubbish the bright colors make it look magical and comforting looking at the clock across the street it’s time for group and terror grips me around my ankles and chest again again again my head fills up inside with doubt and shame like a sinking vessel i try to be brave my hands shake and i grind my teeth nostrils flare and i anger…
View original post 93 more words
body parts
from the depot 🙂
to the boy from other poems
if we never fly
if we never dream of life
in other directions
if we never tilt our hats
by Johnny’s tomb
if we never smoke Cuban cigars
and tango with Tom Waits
if we never see each other again
know that you were enough to make me happy
for Vicente
from the depot 🙂
I
crows
gather to drink
water from
the dirty street
i sit in
waiting
II
footsteps
upon the
main entrance
of the lonely
church
tread on holy
III
visions in
my head
i see the
cock will crow once
more and
they will come
IV
to find us
where we
are
gathered in the sacred
house and
take us with
V
their dirty
decrees
it happened
in the east first
it’s in the
west now
tired

