im not of pedigree or coveted fame
ive tripped many a time along your winding lanes
here in alleys where ive sat in ragged tents all day
a lowly worker with brochures of life altering events
the propaganda of voluntold indoctrination
my name is just like any other
from my hands that shake from harder times
i try to read between the lines
when ‘we’ are face to face
drowning betwixt the ones ‘we’ call the ‘us’ and ‘them’
we lure to come into the wasteland charm
of stretched out lips and forked false tongues
gimme gimme gimme the desperate and dislocated
the addicted and the berated running from the demons of corruption
has been the bait and switch liberator’s motto
send these the disturbed and ex-comfortable
so they will become the poster child
of the politica apparatus tweet of the week
yet as a daughter of your sacred strata
formed with the international soils of pioneer steps
of all the peoples’ diaspora
stay with me America
that i may serve
as my inalienable right guides me
to be free to love all human beings equally
not for nothing
spread the WLS
cup o soup
the chill condenses
as when porridge does
and the tips of my fingers
begin to ache as if to crack
like when i used to pour vodka
on the giant designer ice cube
since i was little i liked corners
memories of life and how its come to be but hasn’t changed me
at an angle framed by brick weeds and piss the King Eddy has closed
window and door a silent rigor mortis
no more free drinks or musty teamster gropes
skid row catches the eye
twilight lives here day or night
but at times it shimmers
like when a man sings a new song
like when i can afford
to tip him five dollars
i like the twilight i feel
and when she staggers to me
and tells me her story
i think that all of us here are missing some teeth
that justice is served
that in this twilight here
Lennon’s imagination
is clear
we are all important because of our story
our statistics aren’t of value
in the twilight of these years
we are one
and we can all use a cup o soup
spread the WLS
erosion by mbrazfieldm
my roots never grewi stayed for a little whilethen climbed on the first windthat blew through this soul of sandmy grains turned pale graytumbling through this earthen hourglassalone in the company of drovesof other discarded lonely vagabondsfrom what i gatheredlove had stopped rooting at the duneswhen i finally got there Written in response to […]
erosion by mbrazfieldm
spread the WLS
erosion by mbrazfieldm
my roots never grew i stayed for a little whilethen climbed on the first windthat blew through this soul of sandmy grains turned pale graytumbling through this earthen hourglassalone in the company of drovesof other discarded lonely vagabondsfrom what i gatheredlove had stopped rooting at the duneswhen i finally got there Written in response to […]
erosion by mbrazfieldm
spread the WLS
into consideration
i write this to myself
because i don’t know about forgiveness
it hurts too much
to still have to bend that far back
in my secret life
i am the hatchet undertaker
bury hatchets under buried bodies Beth and Devereaux say
but for how much longer
life has passed me like birds
silently looking nowhere
only forward
wings rigid
pushing away
from the skies above my head
that bird super highway
and when i can tear my eyes from the smokey heavens
my feet tired as they are like lead can sense the cool soft caressing clover down beneath the holy patch of Earth
regret from my hatchet burial pulley
begs me to take into consideration that some hatchets transform into boomerangs too
spread the WLS
one night at Lou’s gig
Lou remember me from the nose bleeds at the Greek
among the stars and trees you sang about magic loss and happenstance
we were together in LA
no one thought about the irony of your songs or the tragedy in the sparks of people keeping people down forever the sigils of history warn
that night when the heirs raised their fisted hands for some questionable victims
the silver spoon afternoon faculty culture bunch joined the fun to line their vote pouch
the loss streamed with hemorrhaging velocity happenstance remained the same
under controlled televised well made up coiffed dos they watched her burn five days the news ministers said
yet we were all born simmering
Lou i left the forest and i left you
to feel the burn wicked with the same fire of Pharaoh and Baba-ato
the Tlatoani and Xia and Shang
but in modern America Lou we both agree we prefer to do it Roman style
spread the WLS
erosion
my roots never grew
i stayed for a little while
then climbed on the first wind
that blew through this soul of sand
my grains turned pale gray
tumbling through this earthen hourglass
alone in the company of droves
of other discarded lonely vagabonds
from what i gathered
love had stopped rooting at the dunes
when i finally got there
spread the WLS
the other stars
at night with the party of stars
the stars in the sky i mean
i sit in quiet tender happiness
on the summer eve sidewalk of Sunset and Vine
my eyes scan the shoes
some old some new
there is history in the step
some style some regrets
at night when traffic dies
buses groan and open their doors
warm freon stink hisses
no one exits they just sit
my hands play
with blue Bic pens and loose sheets
their surface wrinkled tears
happiness of simple truths recorded there
at dawn barley curtains fall
the stars have took their bows
coffee’s bitter cocoa moan
stirs my knees and center
in the newness of the old city yawn
where i died lived and was born
onto this place where my soul has soaked in this world is my happiness
spread the WLS
defectors of defeat
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
–A Farewell to Arms (1929)
i not ever one to stay settled
not in a chair nor a desk or a flipped car in the middle of the highway
i not ever one to cry fold up or whimper after the first punch slap or ranting curse
gables decisions transfers petitions bus stops late nights running away to dark alleys
broken arms scraped face bloody nose bruised halo twisted wing midnight summer clouds intrigued
books parks veterans of various fights teachers preachers women brothers fractured holy lives
war with peace along the edge we’re marched too soon where time has earned the essence of our hands yet not the moxie of the spirit
