grady’s psalm too point oh

wet sand stink in my nose

thoughts of another month gone

but funny thing

im walking on my city street

Master Reeves literature    check

big ass cup of iced Americano    check

sun shining on my head    check

to the left of my short shank

a begging tent with liquor spills

to the right of my short shank

my jean ripped on a baby palm tree

traffic below the Wilshire boulevard bridge

connecting insanity and greed

sometimes an old woman will shake her fist

at the medical marijuana rig

going at a breakneck slow speed

at the corner the fruit vendor speaks

to his regulars about the Trump defeat

but i squeeze by avoiding getting sucked in

to consequences of a life so alien to me

well i’ve never been to Pensicola or

Miami FLA im from Californayay

my lips pucker out a lame refrain

then i wonder about Bettie Page

her life as a saint

it gets late

sky hued like wild honey

littered is my view

with COVID warnings

i reach to pick at the mask round my neck

in respect for a millennial child

with each crispy step to my place

traces of hurled up chow mein

discarded condom wraps

and leaflets notifying me Jesus saves

Now Available from Indie Blu(e) Publishing: As the World Burns: Writers and Artists Reflect on a World Gone Mad

hello friends please check out the amazing writings and lots of thanks to Indie Blu(e) for giving me an opportunity to share my voice lots of love from LA to all

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Indie Blu(e) Publishing is thrilled to announce thatAs the World Burns: Writers and Artists Reflect on a World Gone Madin now available on Amazon in bothprintandKindleversions.

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Ben your leather apron

mbrazfield (c) 2020

we blow at the match head
like a dandelion against the wind
three strangers one and three quarters
working lips ashes on one finger tip
book bag full of notes to rockstar
fantasies who wont ever get to kiss me
a game of snakes around the bend
32 dollars in my hand Lou you the man
ladies and rainbows sinners and thieves
carnival of man meat eaters
newspapers of the week my tired head
they serve as sheets
ghosts of the shit alley Riviera
cigars cigarettes commercial children in rain
hypothetical American dreams
polityrant money greed my soul to feed
into rooms of mystique where all
who knew too much will seep
into tabloid sensationalism
but we as cobweb kids know better


car titty and payday organs i thought i heard myself think under the bridge with the tents mushroomed through it dry cheap malt liquor atomizer scent the Nordstroms lobby of the poor crosswalk to the weed supplier across the street the line begins on 18th opposite the Toyota parts dealer scooter boys and eyelash girls the latest in street fashion Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle dolls Scooby Doo blankets fixed on car windows for privacy from the bleeding hearts and muskers with their guns ready for the crop shadows greased upon the pavement from the Great Depression and the miscellaneous gruel penny coffee who knew multibillion dollar hook to look good and begging cups with a winking siren who can’t scream at the scandal of it all starvation degradation insinuation of a world gone sane cardboard living is very thrilling for those who afford expensive drywall hung by the nephews of Cuauhtemoc before the Spaniards took the gold that now sits in microwaves next to Nancy’s expensive chest filled with 38 exuberant flavors

pic and concept by spaceboi 2019