Poetry

for KC

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

cracked

brittle

wilted heart

tear stained stars

foot steps quick ahead tonight

path crumbles in the coming of the light

blown kisses of holy waifs of the past who hold the saddened skylines tiny roads turn to the west with hunger

seeking a forgiveness for the crossing into a dimension of dandelions and dragons chasing rainbows in x-ray negative a vision quest of uncertainty where the road breaks into infinity amongst baby green silent hills

in transition there are trenches carved in judgment waiting for the sentence of a higher kind for actions of wasted time

the mile is longer than the wings of messengers as my legs tremble

road of life cobbled in touchstones signaling slowly

daring us to move on

alone all together

once more

whole

paradox

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

the machine was old and mean pulled back handle bars American Flag distressed were the rides up and down Ventura Boulevard and into the deepness of Sun Valley party time AC/DC now and forever rowdy wives with livers made of steel mechanical ponies the moving parts yelling at the sky laughing liberty cries the dream was fought for no agent here orange or otherwise free baby be free we are your family and bandanas back then hid no bullets implicities and explicities were fought with fist of bone and skin love hard brains last intuition in the middle we are all brothers here vested leather and denim soldiers rock and roll gods women of the temple riding smoking to the ground while the sons of no fortune rode into the sunset of my eyes and your loving arm wrapped around my 3 year old shoulder praying for me

siete

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

aquí quedo dormida

este cuarto es azul

tus caricias se borran

con los amaneceres

tus labios huyen de mi

crueles clavos duros

las aves son sin alas

las flores ya no brillan

los ojos de ángeles

sus sangres son de plata

mentiras quedan muchas

soy de carne y hueso

tus soles de cenizas

sete

estou dormindo aqui

esta sala é azul

suas carícias são apagadas

com os amanheceres

seus labios fogem de mim

unhas duras e cruéis

os pássaros são sem asas

as flores já não brilham

os olhos dos anjos

o sangue deles é prata

mentiras existem muitos

eu sou carne e sangue

seus sóis de cinzas

seven

i’m  asleep here

this room is blue

your caresses are erased

with the sunrises

your lips run away from me

cruel hard nails

the birds are wingless

the flowers no longer shine

the eyes of angels

their blood is silver

lies there are many

i am flesh and blood

your suns of ashes

Sunday morning chores

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

slim cigarettes crystal ashtray on each table champagne flutes and martinis silk cocktail dresses t.v. sets Doris Day silky red bob fiery temper purse emptied pill bottles prescriptions on their way Monk and Gainsbourg converse like angels laughter is refined ladies don’t drink beer ladies sip on wine day in and night out four in the morning the child translates orders tiny soldier scrape the fields looking for a mother giving birth to self carpet facials the caresses turn blue and black little mommy takes good care pumpernickel toast French butter pats left on the bedside melting in the afternoon sun

alternative ending

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

a wishing well

the red door smokey

music of any generation blares

curtains coil in the caress of night

the sunken eyes cheeks moist with the dew

truth you are a liar gospel im lying to myelf

regrets im sure the devil had some scorn ive had my share

smoke puff he loves me ash flick he loves me not

clinking glasses last call some hearts stutter

can i bum a cigarette another asks halo moon

bamboo jade blackflag germs window mirror

fleeting time biting nails taxi drive

the way of good intention blocked

to the tunnel one more time

flick flick flick shoot

i guess i love me not

tiny dust bowl doll

Burlington Ave. Retirement Home

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

you’ve earned the right to sleep

after the end of battle

the mountains and the breeze

of change that do not fluctuate

all was traded some left to the side

the city of angels

is where you now reside

the dream of any freedom

that never was fulfilled

stolen from you your soul and your kʼuhul ajaw. past

Guajoyo in blood, Mozote in fire, Junquillo the same

sidewalk pillows and bottles as slaves

your problems have grown up

the leaving of stains in memories of women

of lies in the jungles with snippets of Monroe

the linens wasted pulp

shared by the poets and the popes

of a world so far away from you

wasting away in the alley of industrialized Golgotha

burlington avenue retirement home

Violet’s sisters

/ mbrazfieldm / 23 Comments

as the cars go by

we sit on the corners

of the public walkways

under tattered canopies

that used to be hanging gardens

and fields of golden straw

our chiffon gowns encrusted with rubies

are dwindled to greasy rags

crystal chandeliers and exquisite ballrooms

transformed to milk crates and cardboard boxes

dignity and the strength of spirit stand tall while

we grow accustomed to darkness

Zimmy’s Head

/ mbrazfieldm / 13 Comments

in dreams i can see inside of Zimmy’s head if i wipe my third eye i can hear the wind blowing in the waterfall if i stand on one leg i can tell how many eons the mountain will take to swim in the ocean in my delirium he asks me “well what did you see green-eyed one?” on my back i groaned the tiny crabs rise from their crevices i tremble as their tiny feet tinkle in the sand wiping my eyes with the tears of Mary i am overcome by the opening of the cave as if the Hand did unseal the jar to anoint me with freedom

Prométhée la femme

/ mbrazfieldm / 7 Comments

tearing through the artificial dim

of the skyline in her eyes

and the gods did give commandments

through the sky the lightning cried

dabbing gently on the canvas

all the might inside of me

in the old fortress once a bank

where earthly gods now adorn the bricks

i cusped my trembling splattered digits

to my tender lips hoping that the god won’t

make me pay for stealing his precious colored rainbow

to lead us on our way

la llorona redux

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

children this is your mother city Porciuncula

calling and wailing when i feel your fall

i anger i ponder  cry in agony

i’ve watched you grow in my neighborwombs

i’ve watched you writhe in the pain of isolation

i’ve withstood you raising your hand in anger and murder

against your siblings    my streetveins flow through

your souls and while your spirits are still in the hearts

of your flesh ancestors your ache and loneliness

emblazoned on flags of blue red and black

demarking ancestral bruising

how can i avenge you my children

when i simultaneously incubate the demise

perhaps the answer lies

in my children rising up and punching with their brains

honoring themselves with their mind

and claiming your royal given right    to rise and be you