supple
like
iron
words
hard
as
redwood
branches
hand
heavy
with
hate
mbrazfield (c) 2022
painful haiku
mbrazfield (c) 2022
mbrazfield (c) 2022
as they stare
they treat me any kind of way
thirteen pounds of furry muscle
they demand as they stare at me
guilt me with otherworldly cuteness
i beg and i plead my very soul to keep
for a headbutt or a tail hug
to no avail
i rush into the kitchen room
they like sentries cold in their eyes of jewel
manipulate me to open their favorite chow
and place hers on the dinning table
he satisfied to be served on the counter tops
Vietnamese grandpas
as a child by the river i’d sit
watching birds and tin cans
faded reds with silver coca cola brand
the Vietnamese grandpas were fishing
for hours studying the leaves
grownups brawling and guzzling their beer
speaking of politics and the cost of living
the Vietnamese grandpas were fishing
and my innocence of mind would cause a wonder
did the birds have veins like my tree leaves had tucked away between the feathers on their wings
the Vietnamese grandpas were fishing
and when the time came to leave my clan i headed to a school
and i studied nature in a most unnatural of states
when i began to see it all the universe like the light of day
the leaves the birds the skies stars and twigs
they all had veins like the ones i saw
as i received smiling foreign words pats on head and soda cans
down by that river bed
from the Vietnamese grandpas who were fishing
flipping BMW drivers
where did that young girl go with wild wild hair to the air wind Master goddess
i used to see her in her shredded dirty jeans skateboard and Vespa rider with a Red Hot Chili Peppers sticker on it
flipping BMW drivers transporting hair metal idols up that degenerate Sunset boulevard
she went to hand out scraps of food and sterile needles to those trespassers of the high falutin hills of Hollywood
laughing crying walking up the trails to the magically acoustic historical Bowl in the hopes of enticing young runaways to come and stay at the charity homes
touched forever by JMBs dinosaurs with lines roller skating on the canvas walls
to meet the hero in her mind and not to know if he sunk or rose after getting called to judgment
nourishment haiku
we wish we could feed
those sad souls in need of love
their pain is too great
simple pleasure haiku
don’t fall to the ground
little honeysuckle bud
i’m not done sniffing
yours is
yours a cool blue glance that burns cold in the midst of my heart
yours a hot clutch tight around my fevered mind
yours the sound of angry thunder sticking at the door of my vulnerability
yours a distance beyond comprehensibility that weighs on my caving chest like 19 billion suns
yours a bitterness spilled across a bleeding tongue
the road dogs
she sits there looking dazed pecking at her phone with her pink sea shell fingers
“they call me tre on account i only got three toes” she said in a proud laughter
she feels her way around the rim of her fancy thrift store jeans bought four years ago for ten bucks and donated by well bred college coeds from ANY THREE LETTER U
“i’m waiting for my road dog to help me do my laundry she’s the only one i trust we used to be drinking buddies back in the day tell me if my shoe stinks.” she stretches her tan prosthetic type shoe at my face i smelled nothing
with a distance in her blind brown eyes she asks if the blinds are open because the lights bother her she cusps an old Kleenex under her nose its allergy season
“can you hand me my eye drops they’re on the dinner table next to my dad’s diabetes pills did i tell you that he lost all of his toes and he might lose his left leg? we’ll know tomorrow.”
her head tilted down as if hoping her sad thoughts will seep out through tears of frustration as her father who named her after her own birth country was now struck down and she could no longer be daddy’s road dog either
sonnet for the trafficked
streets wet with ocean dew by the train stop
girls with glittering mouths dance in the eyes
men who lost their wages to sinful lust
we smoke with lights out every other block
in the ally they waste covered with flies
bended knees to a system that’s not just
our dreams fast escape through broken windows
on some faces a smile is just a lie
through loss of self remember not to trust
we long for those we love trapped in shadows
filthy shame to cause our blood to rust
the soul cauterized from love so we die
walk the streets with spirits that now are crushed
the warmth of hearts these mean streets have frozen
at night our cries hush
that that that
i don’t like to be kissed first
as it gives him power
i like options and opportunities
to leave him first
and not feel rejected
too much
i don’t like to be told
that he loves me first
because if i don’t feel the same
he might turn into a raging dog
i don’t want to have to consider first
that i will run for my life
i don’t want to fantasize
that things will be beautiful
i’m tired and the angels on their silver glide
have long left me behind
to rationalize
that its best to nip it in the bud
this fear instilled in me
that a first kiss might be the real thing
words less spoken 