severance

December 17, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

night taxed with poisonous possibilities the last hour then no more a life not bad nor well just a life neither wasted nor nurtured discounted but exploited there are no moments of presence just movements toward screams and then nothing then the steepness of the fall over and over until someone’s heart bleeds and death is annoyed by my stifling of it and then is the rain her noise muffled weeping of the very archangels themselves condemned to look after me steps taken hesitation settles in the bone if only for the beloved the worth of crawling is afforded sealed in secret in the heart and mortgaged eternally in melancholic silence the severance begins

arté a morte

October 31, 2025November 1, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

negotiations are mostly difficult at mornings birth
then as she matures into treacherous day
i loosen the grip on my own hearts thin skin
mantra speaks the magic words
my hand shakes as i sign the dotted line again
understood the truth of you and my untethered existence in your universe
diligently i refrain from dispute
but accept the mortal wounds by evenings
song of sadness

scalding schema

October 5, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

years buried deep within the flesh of my eyes
but here we are
what can our relation be
the snows of ruin set atop my head
a mere empty mausoleum nursing images of the atrocities committed to a soul
and still you gaze up at nothing with such devoted stare
a foundling am i to you instead
what to say to stave off the pain of the roads ive dared to wander
yes into your eyes id smile and say no one will ever hurt you again
words a cocktail of anesthesia a wonderland never to reveal itself
my name for you is kid
i am your shadow your scout your secret service slave
kid you will never be alone again but the poison runs too deeply in my veins
good intentions this time will drive us both to a new and improved hell
where the earth is windy with dirt

inconsequential

September 22, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!” -Horatio-

with morning tied to her hem a silent dirge twinkles and spits out melancholy
have you held new born death in your hand
written down the time it came
at every moment locked eye with its void
shook your head at the quest for why
with the years death has softened with me
its sting dulls and calms down
as does a drowsy baby’s cry
just enough to hear the seeping of tears
the stones lucid now sit deep in the stomach
as to not allow grief to drag me away
the intention was to keep demise at bay
these hands have yet to hold cold death
the eyes have had their fill however
have you ever had to behold the violence
the hatred of ignorant minds
or race through mine fields of denial
excommunication and exile
a consequence for lefting their ‘rights’
this pain this isolation is the stain
an old wise pirate said only death is certain
with these bones i wander chaos underbelly
in the land where no one survives
the flesh and chosen unintelligible senses
continue to twitch and beg for forgiveness
the unwanted passport to do it all again

STRAW

August 22, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

there isn’t very much straw in the city
but if there was itd be soggy with tears
decent people tears bleeding heart tears
drug dealer tears whore and cop tears
the church folks would cry and everyone in between would have a good weep
wait there might be some straw in Compton
folks there have horses too not many know that
walking in the city can be hazardous to someone’s health it all depends if one swings back or has Harbor Freight pepper spray at the ready some old women have tasers the young ones have entitlement the smart ones move about their day
straw is not readily available with Cal Fresh or EBT GR only goes so far if you gotta choose between a rock or an ass beat some get both
but what there is in the city are cheap holiday decorations the Chinese devised a plastic wreath for every possible engagement a few years back contained within the safe haven of the 99 Cent Only Stores now found in the gutters trash heaps and several encampments
no there indeed isn’t any straw in the city

to hide

August 7, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

have you ever seen more dark than light she asked
his reply sarcastic and dry a yes without decorum in those shacks with open curtains woks and screaming babies (he realized all children cry in the same language of despair)
but it’s tropical down there she quips
not in Sam’s heart of darkness
what else have you lost along the way she’d like to know while searching for her own methadone
he chuckles guzzles tokes and chokes deep breath let’s out and sighs my sense of dignity my honor and my soul
a stare directed at the sun and down to her dirty finger nails while cupping the hem of her see through dress i lost my children she said
i’ve been hidden from myself and by my hand they have been guiding the scope of my gun my logic and mind his army green matches the color of gangrene settled on the meat of his left thigh
unsolicited and void of tone my daddy killed my momma is her response i think it was on account of that war poppa fought in 64
painfully he struggles to get up climbing the wall where so many have deposited their sorrows not looking anywhere in particular he searches quietly for another place to hide

tears in the spirit

July 5, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

there is no hope you’ve broken it
the heart can only take so much
it seems
tears well but never leap over anymore
tears in the spirit of the soul continue
to follow jagged reality that they won’t be ever repaired
my hands shaking slightly more each night
infected by your deceitful stripes
blue white red from toe to head my lady
you’ve betrayed me
luring me with poisonous tongue
rusing me with my own guile
until i bleed my own blood from me
America you hurt me
America my vengeful mother
America you spit on me
you don’t want the People to be
stare me in my face
curse me when i needed you
to tell me i must carry out
the execution of my own
freedom by suicide of my
spirit’s conscience
there are no waves of warmth
or golden fields of life sustaining grain
only green mile slabs of shitted on concrete
for you to watch us dying
off the fat of the land
America the root of our starvation
America high on meth and ignorance
America call off your pharisees
that govern what should become of me
just shoot me at the foot of dawn
at least then Anubis would be there to greet me
America who do you love?
America i know who you hate
America we are both lost
and i could not let you go down alone
since my first American flag enamel pin
at Disneyland such a long time ago (was it just a dream)
my devotion to you and none other
the pledging every morning began
as i followed you like a pack of wolves
my Doris Day Huxtables Elvis America
ever so closely America
you had me
then you let me go
America you beat me
you let my people shit on me
America you brainwashed me
through my nanny Hollywood
now i a dissenter infidel rogue
gypsy in my own land
your homicidal womb America
don’t forget
i your rotten fruit
has yet to be composted
by your deceitful self righteous hands
America, this a good bye
save your rehearsed tears
in spite, i will always love you

i do find home

June 15, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

at last home she is extraordinary
she is invisible yet love is wormhole dense
i slivered enough in the threads of horror
i do find home while i curl up in tainted blanket woven from fractures harbored in lie anger shame and pain
it wasn’t long ago he said i don’t know where home is but it’s there in the crook of her arm
in a peanut butter jar after one summons the elation of the first bite there is home and in the spoonful there are pearls of warmth created from His breathe exasperated when the draw is taken never to comeback for some lucky devils home has always stayed betwixt the cut salved over by tomorrow’s troubles home is also in an urban clover a city dog a drug den park pigeon 5 thousand broken visions in a burnt down van yet he stands home not necessarily needs foundation you see scars are bricks of testament to the home that lives in us as we die of the fat of the land
©mbrazfieldm 2025

american man

June 9, 2025 / mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

soldier is it enough to chain children take old women beat working men?
soldier is it enough to kill your brother sister father mother in their birth land?
soldier is it enough to wear a blindfold rancid with the shit of a man who wipes his ass with what is sacred?
soldier is it enough to allow your self determination to be sodomized by simple minds?
soldier is it enough to foist your fists upon those born beaten down and unrepresented?
soldier what is your pain that you willingly trespass righteousness?
soldier why are you angry in desperation to defend a country for a man who will decide you will be next to the slaughter block?
soldier why have you given up your mother’s kind teachings on how to be a real American man?