Poetry

arena

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

el sol hoy es mujer

con un vestido de arco iris

las bestias de toda especie

se mezclan en el desierto ajeno

a todo lo que amo mas

los dioses de las estrellas

nacen y mueren en el mismo suspiro

pero lo que no cuentan

es que un suspiro es una eternidad

los ríos correrán de abajo a arriba

y la civilización esta clavada en una nube

fuera de mi alcance

pero a lo que veo

es mejor así

enterrarme en la arena

20190609_230829.jpg
Arte cortesia de Kira/art by Kira

areia

o sol hoje é mulher

com um vestido de arco-íris

as bestas de todos os tipos eles

se misturam no deserto alienígena

a tudo que eu amo mais

os deuses das estrelas

eles nascem e morrem no mesmo suspiro

mas o que não conta é que um suspiro é uma eternidade

os rios correrão de baixo para cima

e civilização está preso em uma nuvem

fora do meu alcance

mas o que eu vejo

é melhor assim

me enterre na areia

sand

the sun is a woman today

with a rainbow dress

the beasts of all kinds

mix in the alien desert

with everything i love the most

the gods of the stars

they are born and die in the same sigh

but what they don’t say

is that a sigh is an eternity

the rivers will run from bottom to top

and civilization is stuck in a cloud

out of my reach

but how i see it

it’s better that way

bury me in the sand

ornithology

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

timid

green

eyed child

limp wheat hair

falls wet in the cold

rain tucked safe outside while the fire of

hate rages inside the walls of your land tenderly wilting all hopes away

a woman red hair blue suit white badge warped picture no passion picks you up silently both walk down the pebbled

path by the time Wilshire Blvd. is reached the bird nest is out of sight and you mature again manila files County words where are the crayons and Raggedy Anns pink Buster Browns forgotten

the clouds bright against tan butcher paper sad faces for the judge of the cages in my heart smile we must

fire suffocated unhappiness averted for a night or two little bird strains away

to reach those pink pebbles and pumpernickel bread

Canter’s chicken soup mummy’s black

eye gone for

now both

conditionally

freed

photo courtesy of Kristiana

Morrissey en tricolor

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

durante Agosto a las 8 de la noche

hace mucho calor

compramos helados y cantamos

con nuestros Walkmans

los melancólicos himnos

de Morrissey y Los Smiths

somos la juventud con tristeza fina

emoción delicada

que ya no se puede expresar

con los métodos de los White Fence Boys

en El Este también hay neblina pobreza y destitución

pero también hay cultura costumbres y tradición

también tomamos té y café y hay playa

al fin del tren

entendemos ironías como nuestro ídolo

y aunque se enoje la abuela ya no comemos su cocido

que no sabe que la carne es muerte

los domingos en el cementerio

tratamos de besar a las muchachas

pero solamente en nuestros pensamientos

nuestros lentes grandes nos separan

somos la juventud nueva y media rara

soñamos en cosas que nadie entiende

queremos más de la vida

en la madrugada en nuestras camas literas

nuestro héroe Morrissey nos canta a dormir

Morissey em tricolor

durante agosto às 8 horas da noite

faz muito calor

nós compramos sorvete e cantamos

com nossos walkmans

os hinos melancólicos

de Morrissey e The Smiths

nós somos a juventude

com muita tristeza

emoção delicada

que não pode mais ser expresso

com os métodos dos White Fence Boys

em El Este também há neblina pobreza e miséria

mas também há costumes e tradições culturais

nós também temos chá e café

e há uma praia no final do trem

nós entendemos ironias

como o nosso ídolo

e mesmo que a avó esteja zangada, não a comemos

quem não sabe que carne é morte

Domingos no cemitério

nós tentamos beijar as garotas

mas apenas em nossos pensamentos

nossos grandes óculos nos separam

nós somos a juventude nova e meio rara

nós sonhamos com coisas que ninguém entende

nós queremos mais da vida

no início da manhã em nossos beliches

nosso herói Morrissey nos canta para dormir

Morrissey in tricolor

during August at 8 o’clock at night

it is very hot

we buy ice cream

and we sing with our Walkmans

the melancholic hymns of Morrissey and The Smiths

we are the youth with fine sadness

delicate emotion

that can no longer be expressed

with the methods of the White Fence Boys

in El Este there is also fog, poverty and destitution

but there are also culture customs and tradition

we also have tea and coffee

and there’s a beach at the end of the train

we understand ironies like our idol

and even if the grandmother is angry we do not eat her cooked stews

doesnt she know that meat is death

Sundays in the cemetery we try to kiss the girls

but only in our thoughts

our big glasses separate us

we are the new and strange youth

we dream of things that nobody understands

we want more of life

in the early morning in our bunk beds

our hero Morrissey sings us to sleep

coy

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

paint

pavement

sacred there

in the pond

on the daily traveled sidewalks

in motion forever being touched with no feeling

i see how beautiful you are comfort for the industrial spawn city child

your orange backs stop my steps from going too far without smiling in the bleakness of the day waving docile fins

your jewel backs charming treasure afterthought of the straggler in the mood of the times scientology across the street while the bed bugs do battle cry by the patisserie of my distant sullied youth

in the pavement my eyes the news of the day beguiles to think that in your face there might be happiness

around you go with the brothers in the dark pool of my mind

i walk against a tide of lukewarm panic

no Buddha’s cloak can hide

the past that

keeps me

forced

inside

Photo m brazfield street stencil artist unknown

nocturna

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

shame nestled in my throat

as night’s soft charcoal gray skin

was wrapped with a lofty nimbostratus shroud

upon her moonlit shoulders

emitting sweet earthy odor

not sure of what i did

uncertainty about my heart

were my deeds the cause of it

like bullets from an ancient time

to kill the peace upon the paths

her tears fell down from heaven

now through the teachings of that lady night

and her dusky priestesses along with a few hard knocks

i’ve come to understand that it wasn’t me who made her cry

but that Nocturna was the mirror of my sorrows

Picture courtesy of The Poet By Day site

J

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

beloved little j

a few words that i want

to say

you are the bravest in the world

my world and that of God’s

you don’t even really know who i am

you like all the stuff others like and you eat

just like them too

you like mathematics which i don’t

but we sound alike when we speak

you count and you obsess with time

and allocation

i count and obsess with dispensation

j when you go Home

can you put in any word for me

i don’t know how to help you

or to be of service

i feel you on my face

when the tears roll down my cheeks

i don’t know if you feel me on your palms

you are my little old man

so wise beyond all time

i am angry at your circumstance

but your aura is all love

nail

/ mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

the wind is beautiful soft blue

tonight the moon is quiet just a giggle in a hush

i wait and i call in my thoughts they are impetuous children

while my soul walks on sunset’s shores alone

the sewers carry my logic atop the roads i see the cliffs

down to the ocean gravity tolls a bell

where i wait in the dark for Venus to glow

where i feel your salty cold hands in a fast fading memory

in my imagination cherry tree in symphony

deep down in the last hope hands no longer clasped

of my heart i know not where or what to say

the trance broken by an old girl

starry are her purple eyes

she asks for a smoke

smiling i shrug my shoulders

she comforts me for not having the vice

little does she know

the habit of you  in my soul

inhibits my mind

forever

broker

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

the jasmine breeze floats

                 through your presence

i see your eyes looking at me

               with uncertainty the electricity is dry

                              the crispness of your laugh pulsates at 3 seconds per beat

                                        both of our demons stay in their corners where the beauty has her throne

  our every move from the lightest wink

            to the full blown hand holding  

in the far away universe of the ozone   gray smoke

              bitter smell of another neuron dead

                       we did not love one another

i loved your image

                   and thinking on it now

             you were a lost boy with a pretty smile and power

     i knew the how-to’s of the score to the billboard of the hottest games

                in town          you could only get the tickets

we slept in the bushes of the mansions on the hills

           it would be a shame for your grandma to see

me there         as time went by and i dropped

           out of that game     you didn’t look

for                     me  but found another broker

solo ella

/ mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

me puedes cerrar llenarme de bardas

encarcelar a mis hijos

los trópicos de virtud

me puedes prohibir libertad

robarme el aire

puedes envenenar mis lagos

asesinar mis volcanes

destruir mis montanas

derramar todos mis mares

aprisionar mis nubes y las estrellas también

negarme a los dioses y santos

quemar mis veredas negarme el campo

podrás apagar mi sol y la luna

abortar a mis milagros y todas mis flores

cierta mente puedes herirme y terminar

con mis hijos enyerbar mis ojos

cortar mis venas y explotar mis riquezas

podrás negarme los secretos celestiales

y un simple trago de agua

pero nunca vencerás el amor de una madre

só ela

você pode me fechar me encher de cercas

aprisionar meus filhos

os trópicos da virtude

você pode me banir da liberdade

roubar minha respiração

você pode envenenar meus lagos

mate meus vulcões

destruir minhas montanhas

derrame todos os meus mares

aprisionar minhas nuvens

e as estrelas também

negar-me aos deuses e santos

queima minhas trilhas me negam

o campo você pode desligar meu sol

o lua abortar meus milagres

e todas as minhas flores

certamente você pode me machucar

e terminar com meus filhos

meus olhos cortar minhas veias

e explorar minhas riquezas

você pode me negar os segredos celestiais

e uma simples bebida de água

mas você nunca vai conquistar

o amor de uma mãe

only her

you can close me off with fences

imprison my children

the tropics of virtue

you can ban me from freedom

steal my breath

you can poison my lakes

kill my volcanoes

destroy my mountains

spill all of my seas

imprison my clouds and the stars too

deny me the gods and saints

burn my trails

deny me the field

you can turn off my sun and the moon

abort my miracles and all of my flowers

certainly you can hurt me

and finish off my children

cut my eyes cut my veins and exploit my riches

you can deny me the heavenly secrets

and a simple drink of water

but you will never conquer the love of a mother

apostasia

/ mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

i love to see Your sunflowers against the purple skyline

Dodger Stadium is to the north and we can hear the tender laughter

then i think of what can happen if You ever got tired of us

the baby cries with hunger and the kings collect their gold

children toil in fields of garbage and the kings collect their gold

women die a thousand deaths of spirit and the soul and yet the kings the

kings collect their gold

the man full of life at dusk while en route to the dawn the poisons of the snakes have found him

i against i

                 i against Your image which is mine

You watch me eternally as i fight against i

the more i do the more i die the more they’re good the more they cry out for mercy

i’d love to see You in the smile of a baby in the streets of Babylon or at the wedding of a girl truly in love

can You smile at the old woman while the sound of the shot aiming at her

blows out

how about in the fevered cancered mind of the split livered alcoholic at the bottom of Bunker Hill

is there mercy in me knowing all the reasons that You hide

or do my resentments keep growing in my belly like a child

why do i have comfort and others do not