spiritual something

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

as far as little girls went i was not very normal i read and understood language on a different level i could imagine with my mind’s eye seeing the words float up from a page or sign or billboard or holy book like smoke when the Vatican has chosen a new pope

i thought i could genuinely speak to non human life forms through my thoughts and at a young age the whirlwind of the lives of the adults while in my Topanga canyon years caused me to believe in the spiritual something that was always there invisible but tangible only to my soul ever present warning me hide the keys flush those pills down the toilet before they get them and die for the day don’t go home with that man don’t touch mommy’s things hide by the creek

always the presence during the part of life when the soul seizes to be tender and becomes a little hardier the spiritual something became overbearing not like Joan of Arc’s but just getting in the way i wanted to do my will even though it wasn’t the right thing to do for the sake of my soul and well being i followed the human aspect that surrounded me and forsook the spiritual something

now that i’ve traversed several planetary rotations i know it’s there and sometimes i can feel it most often i can’t or i can’t tell if subconsciously i refuse to feel it however the mortgage of my misguided self agency has come due

para meu encantador narcisista

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

summer

ends

once again

i inventory all

the polite games we played

both on the one last night that we

shared and while the Thai noodles were great your constant chatter on how

girls matter more when they take care of themselves you took my face so gently and stared directly at my lips

my heart leapt once and then began to coil away it mattered not that i had thought that speaking words of kindness to the angry lonely  man outside your door where far more decadent and precious than the

lipstick that i wore instead you said this shade of red you got from the corner store but my friend Beth who works for Saks can hook you up with Lancome it mattered not that i had thought

my 115 pounds were enough to be the woman i wanted to be instead you said your ass is flat we’ll

fix that at the gym i’ll put aside your contempt for my will

let wrinkles come like medals of high honor

i am who i am

smart bitch untamed

by the

beauty

myth

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

orthopraxy 261

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

containment is necessary if life is to be kept in the outskirts of ethical veils a true man is often deceiving to himself let the mirror lead us to the kneeling chamber pure blue get a clue im not in soft cookie scented pajamas anymore woman whore all the more follow that fellow he knows where to score and take a tissue for the blood ransacked of the floods of dignity dispelled in drought of love freedom the cosmetic side free of pungent primordial scent does not an anchor serve to preserve what we claim is precious fight snot nose kid get out if you don’t like it accident of lust and loss of mind what we want is not what we sought after hear the engines grind Chopin rings in the ear of what was innocent for only days and then the angels of carnality lead the way to where her wings allegorically to be ripped of the whipping back of martyrs run pretty momma go around shes ready gotcha little cunt face first chipped tooth kiss the feet of the Queen of Angels and the DAs assistant can scrape evidence from broken fingers after the appropriate forms have been signed

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

atmospheric tiramisu

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

that Friday had been particularly rough my science teacher Mrs. Thorndyke must’ve been on the rag or something i’m not even sure why i went to school that day i guess i just needed the routine life was unraveling all over me my folks money politics and a robust octopus demon had it’s addiction tentacles around by mind i felt heavy lost i wanted to make it all go away if i got a gold fish took out the trash make dad a clay ashtray maybe if i behaved but my check engine light had been flashing for almost two years now

i walked around downtown til i hit Main street i was too tired to go to the nickel besides i knew Taino wasn’t home i didn’t trust sitting in the lobby of the King Edward by myself i had a feeling i went up to the roof of the Cecil i was a runt back then no one knew i was alive the sky was baby blue like a Joe Jackson song and right where the mountain crests with the horizon an atmospheric tiramisu of different colored smogs

looking down at the sidewalk on Main i would count the people coming in and out of the lobby i remember thinking these must be really happy folks well mannered with nice houses and lawns and supper my mind began to wander my body relaxed i wasn’t comparing or analyzing anymore i was just of the moment alone face to face with my 17 years of invisibility of course i thought about jumping but that streak of rebel pomposity fed by my love of the Sex Pistols thought jumping off the roof would be utterly trite

thank goodness for my photographic memory finger tips without having to shift my eyes from the helicopters pigeons and flag poles i reached into my book bag and fished out the Ritalin pills that soothed me when i felt like curling up and sucking my thumb in about half hour or half day the lines blurred i was thinking about the news and the Contras Viet Nam vets and crack cocaine i thought about how many homeless people there were and the crips and the bloods and everyone in between

nowadays i often think of that Friday and i wonder what would have become of me if i had been a popular girl a girly girl a girl whose parents were proper closet alcoholic church goers conscious voters PTA joiners and i wore dresses and never took anything stronger than grape juice but we were not like that no one was ever like that in truth we were all just ragers in our own way

my daydreams about the world its wars and LA were just smoke and mirrors to hide from what would inevitably be an incredible ride into familiar unknowns of wanting to die and fly and vomit and binge and fuck and love and cry and laugh and feel whole

Promote a Poet/Writer Thursday | August 15, 2019

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

braveandrecklessblog's avatarGo Dog Go Café

Promote a Poet.Writer Thursday

Welcome to Promote a Poet/Writer Thursday! This is the day of the week where all members of the Go Dog Go Café Community are invited to introduce a Poet or Writer they enjoy reading.

Participating is really fast and simple- in the comments below, post the link for the Home Page of the Poet/Writer you are introducing to us and tell us briefly why you think they are special.

We encourage all of you to visit these blogs (or social media pages) and get acquainted with some great new writers.  You never know who you might meet. . .

Happy reading!

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