the flicker

mbrazfield (c) 2023

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

mbrazfield (c) 2023

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

Terre Haute Indiana

mbrazfield (c) 2023

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

mbrazfield (c) 2023

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

mbrazfield (c) 2023

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

dreary, Edgar

mbrazfield (c) 2022

clocks blink
like my heart
losing battles
earning scars
once upon
the midnight
dreary Edgar
you are right
this city
sigh do i
this city
this
city
you’ve reduced
me to mud
my learning
laden with
phallic thoughts
executed by goddess
tongue
still dread endures
doubt obscures
midnight throbs
the aching
of the tribe
etches deeply
on the greasy
sidewalkclocks blink
like my heart
losing battles
earning scars
once upon
the midnight
dreary Edgar
you are right
this city
sigh do i
this city
this
city
you’ve reduced
me to mud
my learning
laden with
phallic thoughts
executed by goddess
tongue
still dread endures
doubt obscures
midnight throbs
the aching
of the tribe
etches deeply
on the greasy
sidewalk

skyline in November

when you died four days went by
until the living souls found you
grimace on your face and in the spirit comfort
you are gone sometimes awake at dawn i wonder where you are up in the skyline of the last picture i took
on our first train trip together
poetic in your cries for help you were
you’d cuss us out scream in ignorant hatred
then you’d say “you want a porkchop”
when soul one called it took 3 minutes
i thanked her she thanked me
we hung up wrote your final moments
as an incident report
no more angry calls or wasted lies
no more interrogations with misty eyes
about why the demons at your door don’t show themselves for me
i do remember our trip to Mickey Ds
you wanted cheeseburgers and OJ
we got our order and took our seats
while your eyes fled off in wonder
i did not know it then although sometimes i knew
that the more i pushed you to live
the deeper you fell into the belief
that your troubles would be over
after you visited the other side of that skyline in November

mbrazfield (c) 2022