overdue

/ mbrazfieldm / 16 Comments

God i’m not one who talks to You very much only You know why but right now with the sky dark my dog snoring the kids yelling next door Mumbai on the fevered lockdown Syria weeping on her feet and fear infecting logic on the tube i feel compelled to thank you for my blessed life for affording me the gift of bitch and cry designer colas and multiplexities of the mind coffins lined up on my screen die ye wicked crowned virus fiend God i know You know what i mean i thank you for my life for my pains strife and what i’ve left behind thank you for my job my smile my friends my cries those three times You knew why i was spared but now i know i really need for You to see that my feeble squeaks in some way will move You and take my bended knee to mean that in the witness of these stars and weeds that my human tribe be relieved from all the things that ail us

held hostage

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

she’s here again vice grip on my chest black night horror demon waif starvation of my thoughts clawing on my floors thorns grow out of my eyes flames of peril dancing on all with illusions of lucid hell all the bottles in the world beg me to rescue them stuff my corpse with SOS written on sulfur stones of tortured paths throw me in the lake of fire fingers running on the walls 2 in the morning feeling lost the saints all laugh at my position i run outside the neighbor calls for me to come back and lock my door i grind my teeth and rockaby in hopes that this episode will soon become another reason to get high on useless capsules i’m prescribed by the drones of science

yes i’m a country lover dressed in a Ramones tshirt and i dont give a damn

/ mbrazfieldm / 11 Comments

my mom liked country music

i wasn’t sure what to make of it

born in a mecca of diversity as far as the blind eye could see

race segregation economics roach versus beetle infestations

but country was white blues i felt

Johnny Cash praised God like Rev. Gary Davis would

Dolly and Kenny brought joy to my mom and her kibbutzi sisterhood

Willie and Kenny transported a 7 year old pig tailed little girl to another America while on various road trips with the acquaintance to those angels

there has never been any doubt my drum is not only different but off as well

i can’t say that life made me this way but here i am

my thoughts have never been linear and yes i like it hard

music people music

not necessarily in volume but in soul Patsy i’m still in love

with our heartache our diverging dreams

you fell to pieces and i preferred to cut

piano bars mosh pit stops jazz hangouts agape screams i love them all the same

and every now and again when it all gets insane i remind myself that all diversified complications still carry the same twang

RIP Gambler 🃏

a christening awry

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

in the beginning was the word
as i unfold beneath my mother’s water
there i am suspended
in the middle of my death
beneath the water
where the all of my love
must now reside
beneath the water
and i heard the wind say
twixt the trees and the bush
and the word was with Him only
then my father spoke prickly and grotesque a gruesome eye opening
black doves in the dream led something in me to scream beneath that water
when that something of a passing breeze separated from the flesh of me
it said that the word was God
and i chose to fall back beneath that dark blue water
while upon my dubious rising
my arms stretched out
to the sinking of the sun