states

birds chirp
the last
song heard
before going
into shallow
restless sleep
pipes clank
neighbors laugh
dogs howl
window cloaked
in moon
sliced Roman
shades cardinal
red i
then find
the cacophonous
earth fading
from me
there is
a river
in the
anemic star
light its
ripples a
veil of
opal and
brass the
pit in
my throat
slowly calls
a chant
a prayer
of sorts
to any
available mother
to take
me in
the arms
of anything
before the
poison of
the hyacinth
breath of
the deep
seated night
will drag
me in
the undertow
of her
charms while
the nymphs
dressed in
Coco Channel’s
post C19
gray suits
flirt for
a like
enmeshed in
electric forgery
unnatural i
the feel
in this
cage of
bone nothing
but mud
midnight news
reporting blues
and the
porous truth
that soon
a derivative
of Pi
will flow
through my
blood to
buffer the
pandemonic messiahs
birds chirp
the last
song heard
before going
into shallow
restless sleep
pipes clank
neighbors laugh
dogs howl
window cloaked
in moon
sliced Roman
shades cardinal
red i
then find
the cacophonous
earth fading
from me
there is
a river
in the
anemic star
light its
ripples a
veil of
opal and
brass the
pit in
my throat
slowly calls
a chant
a prayer
of sorts
to any
available mother
to take
me in
the arms
of anything
before the
poison of
the hyacinth
breath of
the deep
seated night
will drag
me in
the undertow
of her
charms while
the nymphs
dressed in
Coco Channel’s
post C19
gray suits
flirt for
a like
enmeshed in
electric forgery
unnatural i
the feel
in this
cage of
bone nothing
but mud
midnight news
reporting blues
and the
porous truth
that soon
a derivative
of Pi
will flow
through my
blood to
buffer the
pandemonic messiahs

tired

time what is it really just illusions how can one waste what is a lie just a mist in a dark cold swamp a little village of my mind it sits there and wallows remembering memories that never happened like kisses from my mother i have full control when the birds sing time what is it exactly me thinks of time as the breath of the gods the heartbeat of the mermaids the haircut shavings of the gnomes in the forest deep green cool moldy forest located in the left side of my heart untouched by time still waiting still haunting time

Thursday morning

last night i hung out with Jimmy and Janis

and in the shower i sang about foxy Kentuckians

not sure if it meant anything at all but yet can’t help to daydream about his guitar and her vocal chords

making coffee the feeling persisted why am i still here

just feelings i guess no need to worry the squirrels are in the tree the sidewalk exists from what i can tell

i do an LOL i’ve kissed the ground so many times with my ball and chain gang of personal fools

could it be that it truly is just semantics me wonders whilst the refuse truck crawls by on Thursday morning

freed

she thrived optimally when lost in LA

salty sassy loose and Catholic tube top wearing even on cold days

mother of three husband gone missing foul play by the finest in town

she talked back and took what you had with scorn and laughs

yet in the sun light at the plaza when traffic is quiet beggars and convicts safe in their bags

she fed the pigeons ever so delicately threw breadcrumbs at them not like a DiMaggio but like a Pavlova

then they were fed no more

my trip with Azrael

you know the time is nigh
you won’t need anything
would you agree


yes i’m prepared
while we travel can i tell you
how i loved the cool walks
the strong espressos and
the smell of fresh baked croissants over at Figaros
and when i was young
i loved the life that was
fast hard strong and brutal

was that when you felt invincible
Azrael asked

i suppose i didnt really feel anything
can i tell you about all of the beautiful people
dressed in all the colors and walk
step by step
and the children
they the true celestial thousand points of light multiply in God’s eyes forever

did you incur any regrets after all you’re just a human Azrael reminded

time lost revelling in my hatred and my pain first of self then of my nature of my sins and my enemies my inability for many years to feel with all of me
and seeing that i was about to cry Azrael lifted me with warmth and ease as my last breath sweet with smells of incense drew from me a soul unique and we clasp hands into the light of eternity

M. Brazfield

Thanks to Susi and I want to encourage everyone to send Susi your work have a great Friday ❤

Susi Bocks's avatarI Write Her

afterglow art backlit bokeh Photo by luizclas on Pexels.com

dishonest 

beige
irate
hidden well
within myself
smile rejoice believe
reverberate inside
deeply bury sorrow’s babe
float through imagined normal life
ignore the toxic warnings to be
honest with my pain and let it fly free

to kiss me

silent warm spirit
icy wet sweet poison pot
draw those thoughts from me

fulfillment

aging hand unfolds
soft palm up to the skyline
caressing her past 

~~~

M. Brazfield is a Gen X’er born and raised in Los Angeles, California. She is an untrained writer and enjoys sharing her work on her blog WORDS LESS SPOKEN on Word Press. Her inspiration comes from life in Los Angeles, particularly Downtown.

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Queen Sun

gold hot life

resurrection giver

to sleepy weeds soon turned to flowers

spread queenly ample ultra violet thighs across asphalt parking lot

and in betwixt the cracks of crowded city streets

there too there is growth

nurse mother Sun antiseptic in your love

disease and sorrow annihilator

You smile and wrap around my shoulders through my sagging window

and i thank you

for Chester and Chris

it had been there
just around the corner
behind my left shoulder blade

it stayed through threshold
of the neo natal dawn
new like a kitten’s innocent purr

it was there quiet
like the other side of the edge
of that one last breath

it was there like Los Angeles smoke
silent thick cryptic with danger
then it showed itself to the mirror
of my soul

it moved as a molasses crescendo
choking me
too many door knobs closets
reminders silent distant
but hard hitting cold blade
walk past the hall red couch
sit i do heaved tear monsoons
afraid no more an impossible miracle
chest tight bruised palms
from the terror

vetting contingency plans of how not to let it loose