Poetry

simple misunderstandings

/ mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

we

met

by the

fruit table oranges

you said were your favorite

fruit i smitten with the fairy tale ideology

of white pickets two point fives and a dog maybe even the PTA

you upstanding patriarch of the family business man in town i would be your one and only not your rodeo clown

psyche flags were risen and when discussed with the appropriate matriarchal councils all my flags burned down with the kerosene of suck it up or else you are not a woman worth your salt

fuck this i thought in the middle of a fight i would not be how i was expected to lay down

so rogue i went from that world of delusional pleasure tumbling weed freed

but alone in dissension doubt demons taunt relentless

so give me another bottle

to numb the

imposed shame

of

failure

la princesa guerrillera de la sur central

/ mbrazfieldm / 9 Comments

pequeña niña un sol con cara

triste que a la misma vez sonríe

porque así dice la ley paternal

florecita de todos colores

tus pequeñas raíces se esconden

detrás de palabras que ahorcan

tu garganta por no poder decir

lo que sientes en la casa

en la escuela en la telenovela

siempre debes de ser

de una u otra manera

pero cuando nuestros ojos

se estrellan los tuyos morenos

llenos de vida

los míos verdes escurridos

porque han visto mucho en la vida

tus labios se parten en dos

arrancas de tu mami y me miras con valor

oiga porque tiene esos dibujos en sus manos

y con mucho miedo me haces responder

son tatuajes quieres ver

y dices que feos tiras tu mirada al cielo

vuelves a la mano extendida de tu madre

pero solamente tú y yo sabemos

que un día vas a disparar tus propias palabras

a los cuatro vientos

mientras que las mías se quedan trabadas

en mis pasajeras manos

a princesa guerrilheira do sul central

menina um sol com cara

triste que ao mesmo tempo ele sorria

porque é isso que a lei paterna diz

florzinha de todas as cores

suas pequenas raízes se escondem

por trás das palavras que pairam

sua garganta por não ser capaz de dizer

o que você sente em casa

na escola na novela

você deve estar sempre

de uma ou outra maneira

mas quando nossos olhos

seus pardos quebram

cheio de vida

meu drenado verde

porque eles viram muito na vida

seus lábios se dividem em dois

você arranca da sua mãe e olha para mim com coragem

ouça por que você tem esses desenhos em suas mãos

e com muito medo você me faz responder

eles são tatuagens que você quer ver

e você diz feio você olha para o céu

você volta para a mão estendida de sua mãe

mas somente você e eu sabemos

que um dia você gravará suas próprias palavras

a quatro ventos

enquanto o meu fica trancado

nas minhas mãos que passam

south central warrior princess

little girl with a sun for a face

sad but at the same time she smiles

because that’s what the paternal law says

little flower of all colors

your tiny roots hide

behind words that stick in

your throat not being able to say

what you feel in your house

at your school in the soap opera

you must always be

one way or another

but when our eyes collide into each other

your brown ones full of life

my green ones drained

because they have seen so much in life

your lips split in two

you tear away from mommy and you look at me courageously

hey why do you have those drawings on your hands

and with fear you make me answer

they are tattoos you want to see

and you say their ugly while you look at the sky

and run back to your mother’s extended hand

but only you and i know

that one day you will launch your own words

at the four winds

while mine stay locked

in my aging hands

three sun girl

/ mbrazfieldm / 11 Comments

at seven months utero blue washroom

the fists pummeled my mother’s face

she never knew i felt it too

in 71’ there was a great earth quake

they ran out and left me in

she never thought i felt it

a tiny tot no older than three suns

the girl with more suns you left me with

shoved my little hands and face

into her secret universes

nobody cared that forcefully i ate them

often told to talk about the greatness

of your perfection as a guide

remind me if you can what were your triumphs

with this backwards crazed unparentble child

other than your abandonment

for many years and as i developed into a self defined

grotesqueness of abomination

taught by the punks the junks and queers

they are my kind they know about the record

not knowing then what i know now

this feeling i snorted it in chugged it

down with lots of gin that other feeling

i shot it up to the Lord above and took it

in the front and back from any boy as lost as i was

i took the punches curses put downs and secrets

too unsavory for the family name sake

there was a time when i yelled fuck you to

everyone around i cut the cord called you both whores

and headed into town and here i stand until the

end that nears upon me nuzzling my throat

with words in nature cleansing

i now move up one more step of wisdom

understanding that the spark of love for you

unrequited as it was never tainted

the three sun girl can go to rest

her eyes no longer brimmed with tears but hope

dissecting the Geneva Convention

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

the summer is what it is here

the humidity clinging to my tired skin

like a crazy 50’s t.v. wife mockery

on Wall there’s the law and then there’s us

each side with glaring mutual understanding

that nothing is being done

no longer angels no longer devils

Gods gone fishing and they won’t be coming back

the species of Adam failed to keep their end of the

Covenant with Noah and Jesus holy shit what have we done

in life there is reason and there’s law

inside the soul there is right and there is wrong

inside the ego all is mine and nothing yours

on Koehler there is a man who doesn’t know he suffers

the fear he knows not himself prisoner of

the bio-hazardous ecosystem freedom gone awry

the filth the human shit the rage the insanity disease

the pain addiction poverty starvation piss trash

tears the waste of modern time

no longer get through the stains of a life

poorly lived or sorely wasted no logic

no feelings no rhyming no Kingdom will come

betwixt the cardboard and the shelter

the damage has been done

wage on me wage your wars

indifference is your nuclear weapon

on Hill st.

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

she knocked over the bottles but made it up the drawer to the mirror on the shelf my tabby is alive

the helicopters rumble through the smoky skies the news vans are ready for the close up the tents the chalks the body bags three hours after the big bang

right behind the liquor bank debris in the alley empty Old English bottles and some candy wrappers big hot Cheetos Big Mac box

i saw some guy take a noisy shit on the corner of King street and wipe it off with the LA times i closed the gray gingham curtains

i’m never really sure when the psych meds will kick in but i don’t care as long as i can hear the Garcia’s next door just in case they get drived by since mother had a stroke and lost control over her boys

i do have all i need i don’t mind the four am sirens at five am i’m still not sleeping looking out my fire escape balcony the LA Rams play tomorrow and Dignity Health wants to cure my everything

traumatic stress post disorder

/ mbrazfieldm / 13 Comments

the part that is peace within myself is a

      tiny girl humming bird

here and there can’t stop for air

   i’m not prepared to answer why

i can only sing at the bottom of my lungs

   so high so high that no one can hear

the sky and the flowers don’t deserve another

song of sorrow and hurt to add to the menu

    of those souls who are caged in their own

stories of struggle torture and pain

    nor do i know when i will stop fluttering about

looking for somewhere to rest my thoughts and calm

      my fears of getting caught in the nets

          of monsters

oracle

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

it’s not that i am being difficult Majesty

my people have no food to eat

not a pond to wash their tired feet

and my sons they squabble in vain

my daughters they struggle in pain

Majesty all i‘m saying is that my words

should not offend you as you have told

me always speak truth

but i have realized that i

do not agree that my tongue should be tied

and my soul deprived of freedom

to be who i am to soar to the heavens

or to delve in the deep

i do not agree that my limbs

should be caged if i have to

wage war against the enemies of my innocent babes

i don’t mean to be ungrateful

and rebellious at times

but when my children are cut down

by your Princes and clowns

i have to attack with my voice and my heart

through words that are poison

to your ego fueled mind

the sergeants of time

will slowly creep by

and carve out a zone

where i might just languish

in your punishing hate

but don’t turn your back

on those who adore you the most

because with every flower and offering

and purse full of coins

that they render to you

will only weigh you down

to a perdition of soul of spirit and crown

you can shut my lips and burn my body down

but it’s just a body a bag made of vanishing flesh

however Majesty you cannot neglect

the truth in their eyes

the strength in their breath

the beauty in their spirit

their righteous battle call

when the war rages out

the wicked will fall

magpie in the rain

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

i never saw a bird in microfiche before

and it crushed me

the sky outside has been clear for days

and i’m blind to it

the people above can see i’m trapped

and they tisk me

i never noticed me in the dispensary window before

and i despise me

the cathedral’s bell keeps clanging on

and it reminds me

the wings of life have withered off me

and i’m falling

my mind it soars just a magpie in the rain

some time back on Franklin ave.

/ mbrazfieldm / 10 Comments

i love it when youre mad at me

and i try to lick your salty nipple

as you mutter in uncertainty

in between gulps of rye

i love it when we play house

you smack my ass

unzip your pants

and demand me to please

i love it when you ask of me

about politics and i say

i dont know i cant relate

but ive got to go and serve

the broken today

i love it when you yell at me

i shoot to the moon smiling

nodding on the fourth

like when Idris met Azrael

it breaks my heart

to come home

while youre lying on the floor

Gulliver tied down by

tiny airport bottles

i hate it when

i make you cry

after my lips no longer blue

call out your name

right before vomiting

my weakness you on your back

cock hard me on top

losing myself without regard

but right before

i come bouncing back to you

turning my tide

your palms on my thighs

laughing as we die

cover my eyes on your way out

it hurts me when i know

that i will be leaving

in a few hours to get away

from you

ill really miss

that ethereal tiny kiss

gifted from you to me

upon my forehead

when you asked to marry me

there really is no comfort

knowing that i love you

two grotesquely beautiful

liars contending

upon the mirrors of our eyes

in plain sight

/ mbrazfieldm / 7 Comments

humming birds cooed outside your tiny trailer

not a coincidence

French café table coffee can ash tray

the drying bamboo shoots

tender green leaves into the cool air

some nights looking

out from the yellow laundry room window

the sparks from the

slender lit cigarette mimics the fire flies

that live in

the imagination of a confused neglected child

old brown eyes know

they are watched and relish the thought