teufelshund

/ mbrazfieldm / 18 Comments

time has passed by here

i pan the room i see my books

my drawings and the vibrant colors

the outfits different styles

yet mostly all black

the sleeves must remain long

security blanket still after all these years

the incense stretches smoldering in the potted plant

in Garudasana pose Cedar wood and salt

invasive thoughts seep through the fragile lucidity

of this quiet uneasiness the price i’ve had to pay

i shut my eyes i don’t trust closing them yet

at times boot camp trainings thrice removed

refuse to be shrugged off

i look in the mirror morning and night

brush the teeth etc. etc.

but today i’m feeling brave on an anniversary

of yore the battle of Werdin Place

and i see me in the mirror

piece by piece like a color by number pic

as the nights pass by hand in hand

i’m smitten with and embrace more

the medal shaped sCARs they gave me

of warrior heart i fought and fought

and that’s all that really matters

happy

/ mbrazfieldm / 11 Comments

sometimes in the middle of the night

i take the train from one part of town

and then back to the other side

i can’t sleep so i face my curiosity

tipping into the cleavage of the city

and her girlfriend moon

outside of the rolling cab my eyes

they register that it’s dirty

i swear i can see the car exhaust

black sooty pungent belching vulgarity

in the lungs of LA

behold the automotive crack pipe

then my attention flutters to the men

velvet skin plastic smiles and silver tongues

selling me a piece of Jesus and His hotrod

Hollywood Boulevard how much to eat me tonight

i burrow my alien feelings into the tunnels

and the cocky rail rides me to the platform

where humanity scrambles at the truth

of how small we must be to the Bitchgoddess

of everything all poets in history

have lamented about

to chase and purr on the formidable

lies that we are fed

only to show who kindness i wonder

i’m too old and out of time

to place gender or definition on my pleasures

the time to gamble with the rules and regulations

is quickly ending

at dawn pink and gray

with the smell of the city and

her beautifully cruel courtesans

on my hands and lips

i stagger up 7th street

and bum a cigarette from the Meals on Wheels guy

chat up Bang Me Billy and ask about his truck

we stroll to the rich folk Starbucks

he waltzes me up to the lines

we both feel very alive again

and smile at the young savvy people

when they turn up their nose

advice i’d give me if i was my mother

/ mbrazfieldm / 18 Comments

go ahead eat the three cup cakes

jay walk across the mischievous waters

buy Big Mac’s for the street kids

ask the hookers for beauty tips

church hop if the Spirit insists

wrap your thighs around whichever boy you wish

on your terms and not his

go against the family tradition

ride the Ducati instead of the Harley

crank up Led’s Black Dog as you’re lighting a fatty

stay home and read books and howl at the moon

at 3:30 past doom if that’s what makes you happy

talk about the Bard by the water cooler

turn the page when you’ve mastered your spirit

nurture your brain and balance that heart

if you punch punch with your left

but remember they got to swing at you first

if you look wicked good don’t hide it

and every compliment offered to the sisterhood

should come from the heart

don’t disrespect tit for tat the brotherhood

flash them your smile as you’re crushing that Zen

to Clyde with love

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

the vinyl floors were what i really loved about King Eddy’s bar i just never ate the nachos or any of the bar food cooked in the back i just drank their booze the storm clouds had passed i was on long weekend from school by choice of course not because it was any particular holiday secretly i was hoping to see Clyde he was an older gentleman with property out in the desert valley not rich a Salton Sea Hawaiian shirt straw fedora wearing kinda guy he was smitten with me but for a long time he thought i was a very effeminate boy we couldn’t tell each other’s intentions my heart grew fond of him over the months in a time span of almost three years i knew he had been a hustler back in the 50’s and 60’s he knew the entire history of Pershing Square the seedy stuff of course not the pretty ribbon cutting ceremonies and the ice rinks at Christmas i came out i suppose by accident i was cramping pretty badly one Tuesday night and the girl bartender wasn’t working that night but Clyde was there many times before i had seen him hand out aspirins to friends so i thought he might have something with knitted brows he whispered jaggedly you’re a girl and i said yeah i’m not very femme but i didn’t think i looked that butch either ok goldilocks he laughed i was gonna ask you out on a date you see i prefer the company of gentlemen in my private life too not just in my industry wink wink i was confused but flattered thus began a deeper relationship my excesses slowed down i put on weight and i went to school more i read all of my books wrote all the papers took all of the exams and actually enjoyed it because of Clyde’s interest in my education there was a time buttercup he’d call me that when i thought i wanted to go to law school but i got lazy and time just passed me by you’re young kid i’ve been eyeballing you i know what you do why do you go to the Cecil he asked knowing dam well why i went i wasn’t angry at him but rather surprised and then creped out dude are you following me no he said but don’t forget i know lots of people around town buttercup don’t throw your life away is all i’m saying the feeling of genuine care felt like a boulder it was too overwhelming so i split

two sisters

/ mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

during the teen years i became smitten with two sisters i’d take them from the pockets and purses of the people i knew dated them too my wayward street girl path hit the thickest part of the city jungle in my early twenties with my ruby mouth cigarette dangling out i would work through the summers at whatever i found i loved the way the first sister built up my courage i felt like a god she was so very soft put her in my mouth and fill my nose with her essence but like in all relationships i couldn’t trust myself to be faithful i needed more more more insatiable gaping fool on an empty heart hurt in the prime of the blossom so i cheated with the second sister exotic delicious i remember the first bang like it was three seconds ago my God what a fuck and then the downfall the second sister i had been forewarned by all the zombies before me little girl that lady is forbidden fruit but i chased that wild dragon sucking at my tits what a beast of a filly the things she would do send my clitoris up to Neptune and soon i had to pay dues and in the foggy LA morning they found each other out yeah i was singing the blues so we experimented with a threesome their death plot foiled by an angel on the street after running in traffic and taking a beat lost in the dessert of old Mission street but i was too much my father’s daughter i couldn’t be a slave to these beautiful women we know them by name a prize on my head said sister one i’ll blow out her heart crooned sister two no angel no devil could free me from them so we tried our ménage a few more times and it came down to the fundamentals their soul or mine i quit them cold turkey they dragged me to hell i brought up our pre-nup they tightened the screws sent their foot soldiers to give me the news entice me with freebies and i had to say no and the soldiers those soldiers they understood gave me a green light and i’ve been running ever since then

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

ain’t Nutbush City

/ mbrazfieldm / 11 Comments

1989 was a period in life when all back doors of an imminent hell opened to me my loved ones were self-deceived and in their view doing well so i let them linger in their truthful lies

the Cecil was really falling apart at that point a metaphor for the characters in my life i being a bit player young addictions mushrooming everywhere with most here and there would be one character more sophisticated than the other that player was Amos

the other being my mother she fancied herself a feminist with her valley feminist friends me i wasn’t sure what i fancied but  started to steal more of my folks booze and pills it felt good to be honest about my thieving it took the edge off the lies that we told about how bad ass we were in controlling our demons

Amos’s demons would wear pink hustle old has been business men for a suck that never seemed to happen they were rolled here and there after falling asleep taking their pants off on the faux zebra stripped bed

my folks never knew about my life in the city i was just a latch key mess 4.0 gpa high school back door graduate i went to college i don’t know why or even how or how i got a 4.0 shit just happened growing up i had to think faster than your common drunk or cokehead or devious spoiled beautiful caged in their superiority women who struck me as being in horrible painful relationships what was heart breaking was that in their fantasy of being happy and better than thou they were murdering their true potential with worthless crap

Amos wanted to be so much like those women but she just couldn’t go through the medical change or even tell her mother back in Haiti whom she adored i was ignorant as hell when it came to identity i just loved Amos and wanted her to be happy i saw a lot sex violence addiction pain tears orgies more violence but in a way i’m grateful to Amos she did the best she could to raise me if i happened to go by the Cecil drunk or high and she was home i’d had to stay there and get lectured until i passed out

for Amos life had to go on and the hustle continued i’d pretend to sleep or if a fight broke out i sneaked into the bathroom or the murphy bed on the wall no biggie i was a pro at hiding and by that time swinging the punches too on account of my folks and their way of life in a very twisted way sword life might not always kill you

in retrospect i somewhat owe my life to Amos she taught me many things such as using protection don’t go home with anyone don’t walk the street alone “be good kid for Chris’ sake” don’t ever leave your drink alone stuff like that