finally relieved

my sister later said
that when mother left
the tears on her velvet cheeks
were like lily petals
time has passed
on most days when
i notice myself in the mirror
memories of her voice and sorrow
crowds my day 
by eve’s time
sitting alone on the porch
some plump flying angel
will rustle up the honey suckle
and a vision of mother i can feel
quiet resting finally relieved

love songs

those songs sweet piano notes the ones sung by Adele hurt the most as they remind me of what dad did to mom

those words from boisterous guys showing off on bended knee their devotion perfection and digits of currency in worship of me will someday soon turn lethal

those men with delusions of being the righteous new species from Adam came and it won’t change that they are internally afraid of what their daddy did to their momma

from time unknown we flow and go turning around in circles a pull a push in darkness beams and the light sometimes is not that clear

even tears give up before our heart when we slip into children playing dress up me mommy’s shoes you daddy’s boots the familiarity of violence

time does not heal no matter how much it says in the public service announcement the warning signs the stacking cans of fire water rage combustion on music notes the peaceful hoax of love everlasting

orphan

i often forget his smile the glint of his eyes pulling an old dog eared letter i touch his cursive delicate but unintelligible there are no particular ideas in the tight ringlets of pale black ink his mind was full of scorpions she never returned to him they both mad with ego and one uppance i progeny alone i with a heart full of wasps

blunted

mbrazfield (c) 2020

why so tough kid cry or something

i’m ok man don’t trip

your friend overdosed in the hall by the curtained room

are you telling her folks or who

we called your dad isn’t he coming

no he said

do you want to go to the hospital your nose is bleeding

it does that when i hurt

oh did you fall down

no i hurt for my friend growing up even my toys were mechanical

nail biter

we sat there just flopped on the hot sticky sidewalk waiting for inspiration to get up and walk i was the nail biter of the pack Nate was the food finder Noodle was the weed finder and one eye Byrna was just one eyed Byrna we thought that we might go panhandle in front of Clifton’s but there were two problems the first was that men thought i was a boy prostitute and after i’d animatedly correct the would be johns LAs finest would get called never a good idea for underaged Clash fans looking for meaning and a mellow yellow evening the kids got tired and took the bus home i walked over to the Cecil and loitered outside watching portly gray and brown pigeons bathing in grimy puddles under the city lights

lost on the way

mbrazfield (c) 2020

ya ever listen to sister Tharpe wailing on her guitar while spiking up your mohawk

strumming and tugging at my strands as her sweet sultry honey melts into my ear veins

getting ready for TSOL to play on the Sunst Strip in LA balls to the wall sexy hell

underage but i don’t care the way i’ve been living i’m going no where

life was too lively growing up at home so i ran from the folks

and broke all the rules danced on the shore at 7 past noon

big black ugly boots Cinderella slippers were for fools

stick my tongue out at the sky fill my nose up with white lies

scratches cuts bruises and tears bloody trousers fists in the air

scent of cars black smoke and politicos resign my gender go underworld

Christ Savior i see the Son can You explain why i felt at 3 like 21

riding on the bus with the ladies of the night shift who went to clean the houses of the rich

indignation in their smile as bright brown eyes fell on my style

echoing in the length of the trains how can this child spit on the American dream

missing the point in what i conveyed symptom of the American nightmare lost on the way

death of Joaquin

it starts off by an off beat Gregorian chant afternoon belly bloated with heat reruns of Felix the Cat on TV in his past there is a cave maybe he will have to retrace his steps there upon death as they say drool found on his face they gossip abscess on his left leg old black leather shoe scuffed Cuban heel by an original LP cover of the BeeGees to love somebody the irony thick as his moustache neighbor woman ratted red beehive hair hail to the Virgin Mary cat lady eye liner black lipped chiquita vampira cried to the fuzz that she’d gone to check on him on account they fucked every two months navy blue jeans creased to cut cement Pendleton blue white and gray cigarette burn holes fourth button missing from bar scuffle at Footsies last May Fruit of the Loom classic wife beater still stained with the blood of his grandfather a beloved heirloom his Marine days led him astray in the tunnels of the mind alphabet soup G issued pharm cocktailed with torture death and some bombs upon closer inspection Det. Mullen said he has a tattoo with the name of Belinda on his left breast and the cross con safos por vida mark on top of his right hand directly above the thumb crippled by a Derringer at the sweet age of twelve tomorrow was supposed to be the visit between he and his estranged MIT son who goes there on a scholarship won Joaquin had planned to gift him a gold plated LeCross and his Purple Heart medal for enduring a three year involuntary vacation for his country at the Hanoi Hotel