Broken Families

Isaiah 2:4

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

an offering to my fellow human beings. i typically do not make public comments about politics religion or world events. like many i was born in a time of war and i can’t remember peace. but this particular war between Palestine and Israel has truly hurt my soul for private and moral reasons. i stand with the innocents and i hope that we all find peace health love understanding and blessings


“And He will judge between the nations, And will render decisions for many peoples; And they will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not lift up sword against nation, And never again will they learn war.”

buk,

/ mbrazfieldm / 10 Comments

i
think of
you today
it was tough
her screams
biting at my ears
meant for him
and her
and them
the whole lot
maybe Jesus too
buk,
the women around here
but who knew
i’m a woman too
born and bruised
and i don’t have a clue
but then again i was her
a long time ago
her hands jingling
her bling about
like falling feathers
from the boxing ducks
at MacArthur park
little waist
banded by Calvin Ks
why do us tough girls always dress like thugs?
mother issues grab her tissues
here come the waterworks
you’d say
buk, dude
work was hard today
the LA streets
me at her teat
this grimy Goddamned city
as she shared
about the girls she had
and the guys she fucked
all in a litany of blows and scars
her brothers left on her
mother called it teaching her the ropes
buk, i pray to you
were women like this
back when?
or has politics and Hollywood
fooled us?
broken afraid her fists she raised
fragile steel jaw
little girl unspoken
tender where she should be strong
she weeps over her barrettes
her brother broke when she was four
not about the busted lip
her lover gave her
or the county checks that can’t support her and her only child
buk, how can i counsel
when i haven’t been
consoled myself?

African Violets

/ mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

it’s the poor fabrics we’ve worn all of our lives that have roughen our skin she said with a menthol sigh

her sister runs her ankles swollen with years of defeat and three lost sons one buried in the ground and two alive within a legal sepulchre

what the doctor say about the sugar in your blood and did Titi pay the light bill on time because the worker’s coming on Friday

a fly lands on her fractured hand and she shoots it away with her thirty five dollar salon acrylic thumb nail the charms and doodads were free

I’m suppose to cook dinner for Brother Murphy and his wife for the wake of his momma Lord rest her in peace I heard she left him some land in Tennessee

carefully following the mailman with her dark brown eyes she hopes to get a letter from her daughter telling her she’s won the fight against the slumlord in Selma

you know if we put our checks together we can buy Kayla that puppy she wants but how do we hide it from HACLA

the sweat on her brow she’s lied about playing it off as the vapors gets harder to hide under her cornrows as the tumor begins to rise

you should take some B vitamins for your aches and pains by the way Dwayne called at 8 talking about he wants his money by tomorrow

the African Violet out on her patio turns to look at her as she fill a cracked styrofoam cup with cool water from the sink takes a silent sip and quenches the soil of the thirsty velvety faces

Nile

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mbrazfield (c) 2023

Nile was a girl gaze tragic like a Neil Young song mother as Nile called her had a name like a thunder storm soon the girl went astray in the world sleeping in the woods of the county jail mother didn’t want her little child hurt answering her calls after the pimps tore out her hair and by the morning stars Nile would soon depart to wander through the sidewalks of those evil streets before her momma could feed her breakfast with a broken heart the moon keeps the clock of the hours she’s gone mothers eyes swirl with the pain of knowing her daughter will never return

anonymous alcoholic

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mbrazfield (c) 2023

dawn
it starts
bitter thoughts regurgitating
that’s how it begins
spinning gusts of pain appear
that hold me down to drown
fighting back the need to kill off
those words that bind the lies that shelter
self rage bitterness destruction hatred sadness anger doubt trepidation
until the moon in the inky sky releases the essence
of suffering to dreams pulling me deeper into putrid wading pools
struggling to stand on my two feet i raise fists in victory

an appointment

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all he wants is mother
cool hair dark shades
crip color representative
who can never go back
eyes black soul pale
little child lost
on his neck and throat
over his hands and arms
details of alternative
birth certificate needled
in prison ink
the grimace a schizophrenic pull
dear boy who smiles for me
and cheeks contort
to hide the tears
of anger and pain
a story unraveled

transference

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments
mbrazfield (c) 2022

she spills her thoughts unto a loose leaf notebook page with an old blue Bic ink pen
her kitchen table strewn with paper scraps cheap chocolates and charity meals from St. Vincent’s
on her bed plastic liners rolling papers and blue aluminum bags tufts of tobacco on her sheet an old exaggerated Brave on the label
arms scarred by a childhood rash disease that taught her plenty about loneliness
now she the matriarch of two generations birthed from her
she wanders down the halls watching the world through an orphaned telescope
i like watching her turn her room apart
to show me husband’s funerary ashes
and dead baby one shot down before his prime
is the conversation everyday
then my turn to drive away
to punch on keys a progress report
about the life of another woman
whose had to pay a staggering price for wanting happiness