Poetry

the functionalism of dandelions

/ mbrazfieldm / 31 Comments

supple eddies of wind

caress and tickle the yellow

little matted heads

and their thin arm stems

shooshes it away

they stand firm rooted in packs

patchy green grass

sprinkled with crinkly caramel leaves

some dandelion families

those of five and six

adopt a stray apple tootsie roll candy wrapper

that found its way from Halloween

a few rebellious dandies flourish

in one and two and they grow up pretty hardy

before being crushed under a running boy’s tennis shoe

i like those that grow up nice and tall

with shiny pea green fuzzy stems

that little Mexican girls harvest on a Sunday

to place on the altar of the Virgin mother

when they end their day in church

then there’s the really rugged ones

with sparsely yellow tufts

they are angry little spiky things

surrounded by the trash cans

punctured by the littering

wrapped in sheets of rust

those end up having to bear the brunt

of needy cats and dogs

looking for a litter box

this thing

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

the thing it is fantastically big

dark with some pockets of rainbow

like an oil spill choking oxygen from the sea

this thing it creeps upon me

looks me in the eyes until my glance falls

to the ground beneath my bare feet

such a crazy thing it is comes when i need to rest

and like a vine above my dreams there it hangs

menacing the angels and their holy valor

the thing it swallowed my St. Christopher

when i was three it crush my compass too

ripped my maps to smithereens

left my raft broken in many places

now that i am old and sunken in

this thing still haunts me

it shakes me shrieks at me and makes me cry

i have tried to fight with fire water and dope

then i thought i’d be nice and slept with it

but to no avail this thing grew denser and denser

not even the sacred doves could pacify it

but like all who have come before me

and to those who come this way

i have learned to exist amongst it

this thing my fearful monster

i chained to it

both night and day

desperado

/ mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

when the armor sheds

and the spirit is bare

he likes to sit on a swing

legs spread across the grass

thighs dangling between heaven and earth

he doesn’t have to plot

on how to bear the brunt of sin

when the struggle rises yet again

instead yonder down by the willow trees

the children playing hide and seek

remind him of when he was a kid

teetering between his mother’s hallowed hand

and the inevitable curse of becoming a man

Venice beach man

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

i love the way you look at me

almond blue eyes laden with innocent sin

i love the way you steal a kiss from me

and sometimes hold me down

by my cat-like wrists

and tell me how you’ll take me

i love the texture of your ear

on my tongue rugged and sun burnt

crisped by the sea salt and the sand

i love to hear the song

of your primitive throat when you cum

i love how you scold me when i’ve had

one too many of the L36s

and i respect you

as a man who tells it how it is

with compassion while you grieve

for the slow motion death of my free spirit

at your service

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

i pluck a lullaby from notes that the wind makes

and i sing in la-la-la’s just for you

i pretend that the fellas can hear me too

as the warm sun makes me take off your old army shirt

hold on i got a text

but before i scroll on screens i loved your stories

of bayonets and the history channel’s gruesome blitzkriegs

and when you’d sit in the garage

crying hysterically like a heart broken woman

i would weep too by the old fig tree in the afternoons

why do we fight when we fight each other

and when we fight ourselves will the world be better off

room 5307

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

time marches like ants in a row

seconds stop to greet each other

disrupting the flow

blood swims in the veins

circulating with the aide

of medical hope all know is

just hollow

thoughts flicker in and out
off and on about all the things
universal in continuums of time

there are scratch marks

on the legs where the itch

laughs with determination

caverns in the deepness of the mind

thoughts some bland and some strong

demons torture with hallucinations

of what the heart despises more

the noise they make

those tendrils as they wrap

their wicked fingers round

the mind unquiet with grief

an LA woman

/ mbrazfieldm / 20 Comments
Pic by mbrazfield (c) 2019

im no different

i too bleed

i too drink

i too breath

i too think

i too speak

i can wear

a suit and

shiny diamond rings

i can fuck

a woman or

a man if

i want when

i want there

is plenty to

go around in

this town i

can steal beg

borrow die live

catch a disease

have a cock

sewn on or

my pussy stitched

shut i can

love and hate

worship and sin

i get tickets

and big debt

i can write

and wait tables

sell the story

make you cry

or laugh depending

on how i

feel about it

i too can

show passion for

the things that

make society gag

i can figure

things out for

myself and buy

a house and

marry three men

i can walk

the streets alone

very late at

night and see

the children writhing

engulfed in their

pain euphoric to

the all great

equalizer who comes

when she wants

only and claims

those who have

had no time

i can watch

sit back relax

or run scared

out of my

head from the

boogey man or

woman you can

be just as

oppressive baby don’t

tell me no

look in my

eyes my queen

i give you

a description of

your cloudy soul

i can fight

but there are

some things that

i will die

for and won’t

think twice about

it my freedom

my voice and

right to be

me not a

victim or a

trophy i refuse

to be shackled

by diagnosis political

label or join

the sorority of

hypocrisy and vanity

yes i am

a woman free

now i understand

when i got

called rock headed

it served to

break that glass

ceiling and shoot

me to the

infinate frontier of

my own agency

my own democracy

i follow my

drum and i

will share all

with my sisters

but i will

never apologize for

who i am

how i am

what i am

why i love

when i go

where i stand

in this anthem

i proclaim equality

sunrise prayer while whistlin’ to Shonen Knife

/ mbrazfieldm / 10 Comments

Lord it’s me

Grady the Rh- monkey

tuesday morning

Chicago scene

eyes are watering

but it’s not the wind

i haven’t talked to You

like i think i should

just want to thank you

again and again

life flashing

on the right side of my brain

the train car rails

are really cool

if i had a stray thought

it’s all because

of the architectural allure

but i’m mouthin’ too much

arigato for all you’ve taken from me

arigato for all you’ve given me

arigato for all those whom i’ve battled

and for those who have kicked my ass

for all the ones i’ve hurt

and the things i’ve thrown away

thank you for the violence

and especially when peace runs through me

thank you for the fight

thank you for the lessons

thank you for this river

and the beggar by the bay

for the nature

and the phantoms in my bed

and thank you for looking down on me

when my demons ring my bell

homenaje moribundo

/ mbrazfieldm / 12 Comments

From my bleeding heart

Rain the cries of a bottomless love

In ardor and pain and sweetness from the guava fruits

Destined to wither and die on your ground

Angel of cruel deliciousness

Knocking on the broken door of my memory

As I agonize in the thought of your becoming eyes

Hell does circle me every day and brighter at night

Lady of the circulating endless ecstasy

Only you can allow me to die in peace

Image by mbrazfield (c)

estimada novia de colores

en las garras de la pasión

mírame en los ojos

un color come el mío

te juro no los vas a ver

eres el suspiro de la vida

que nace y muere como la Coatlicue

quiero ser libre en tu prisión

y nunca escapar dulce peregrina señora del altar

de las cosas más sagradas en su naturaleza perversa

píntame con tu arco iris

columnas de nuestros padres

las madres ya no van

y siguen su camino

quiero que hagamos amor

en Saturno

y con uno de sus anillos

hacerte mi esposa