blue steel

i’m feelin’ like a blue steel gun

with my fine determined sharp lines

my edges separate the somethin’ from the nothin’

and the come-hither handlin’ parts

sleek momma eye candy deluxe

making genitalia of all denomination shape and size

feel like a super daddy fuckin’ stud

i’m feeling like a blue steel gun

caught between your palm and thumb

a dialysis rig for your bad juice blood

my nuts bolts springs and inner workin’s

the physics and reasons in me aching

of no interest to you your heart or your mind

i’m feelin’ like a blue steel gun

remember in that case where you found me

promises dowries certificated truths

stroking of the barrels looking into soot

my trigger and your raging accusin’ fingers

you offered as my wedding band

i’m feelin’ like a blue steel gun

cast out after years of deeds gone wrong

silent spitting fire of your tongue

looking out my winda’ late at night

wonderin’ why you are the way you are

we chameleons tempering our feelin’s

showcased on a devil’s iron eye

cus we’re both rusted raw on the inside

where crows go to bury their dead

a tight jawed loon that’s what i’ll be

silently i will slink

behind the dying ugly trees

they die like a Shakespearean villain

across from the dirty river

their dusty peeling trunks

looking like they wear shoes

but its only beige mushroom caps

growing from an addict’s turd

ant trail metropolis up and down

the droopy branches bound by old cassette tape ribbon

the sugar burdens on their little thorax

weighing just as much

as the burdens on my curved shoulders

obscure illusions and esoteric lies

the native boulders akin to WCF’s face

emblazoned with red stripes and nonsense

the names of petty thief street artists

stretching down from the lived in hill

where crows go to bury their dead

dime sized nettles in my unkempt hair

will tangle with the strands in silence

and with a little time

the thorns of broken thoughts ruptured memories

will burrow even deeper

like wet mud i step into it

but quiet i will be

be silent the people have spoke

a stone chorus in space

i hear them on cold nights

they are getting colder by the way

i’ll glance beyond the conniving lights

alone out of the way and in silence

dying calla lilies

quiet night traffic far away
every now and then a pup yelps
a wayward bird sings outside my bedroom tree
on book table black pressed wood
furniture of wayward youth
thrift store jar where my heart lives
a pair of dying calla lilies
representatives of shifts in life
into a phone i type feelings that should have been spoken many years ago
supple tender gentle were my hands
reaching up to the hearts of men
and discovered as i pulled back empty bleeding stumps that they had no love to give me

mbrazfield (c) 2021

take it like a man

sky weeping like widow
breeze cold dead man bones
the mirror of wilted flowers in my eye
piano and Adele my lips shut
breath held tight
her song did puncture
the pus filled soul in me
a mallet made of wings
swung across a street
it struck me in the heart
had that ambush ne’er happened
i would have never known
i was woman
for all the times
i had to take it like a man
to bow my head or look away
the lost glamorous stare
the sinking laugh
into the nothing
you said your mother would have liked me
but you never were in love
a convenience fuck i solely was