Childhood

scalding schema

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments
mbrazfieldm (c) 2025

years buried deep within the flesh of my eyes
but here we are
what can our relation be
the snows of ruin set atop my head
a mere empty mausoleum nursing images of the atrocities committed to a soul
and still you gaze up at nothing with such devoted stare
a foundling am i to you instead
what to say to stave off the pain of the roads ive dared to wander
yes into your eyes id smile and say no one will ever hurt you again
words a cocktail of anesthesia a wonderland never to reveal itself
my name for you is kid
i am your shadow your scout your secret service slave
kid you will never be alone again but the poison runs too deeply in my veins
good intentions this time will drive us both to a new and improved hell
where the earth is windy with dirt

347e

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mbrazfieldm(c) 2020

the thoughts of the sounds you make your face in pain your eyes ash gray grow like wild honey suckle vines outward from the insides of my composting heart

look she says can i get a break today my blood borrowed by thirteen murder scenes lined up coming from my vocal chords ready for the gate to fall

i know the demons they feed well from me the prescription don’t eat before the range or you’re gonna get rotted rice and peas rolling down your caved in chest

the elders said before you were set free to the prison this would be caution daughter and sons your fathers were  heavy into maleficent fun be advised that their sins you’ll be liquidating

for Buk’s dad

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Mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

the beach is really quiet today in spite of spilled ice cream and footprints left behind by a generation who still has not known the shores of old and the foxholes through which a reluctant liberty quietly arrives like a heart broken whore the breeze is desperate to make me smile and see me flicker my arms about my head like a puppet the breeze is not at all like the chiffon of the bride turned widow on that shore of ashen filled dreams collected by a letter delivered ten weekes later no these children with the ice cream and soccer balls and songs about a dance that is so disassociated from anything that i know will never understand these shores the way these shores have come to know me

for Buk’s dad

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment
Mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

the beach is really quiet today in spite of spilled ice cream and footprints left behind by a generation who still has not known the shores of old and the foxholes through which a reluctant liberty quietly arrives like a heart broken whore the breeze is desperate to make me smile and see me flicker my arms about my head like a puppet the breeze is not at all like the chiffon of the bride turned widow on that shore of ashen filled dreams collected by a letter delivered ten weekes later no these children with the ice cream and soccer balls and songs about a dance that is so disassociated from anything that i know will never understand these shores the way these shores have come to know me

for Buk’s dad

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment
Mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

the beach is really quiet today in spite of spilled ice cream and footprints left behind by a generation who still has not known the shores of old and the foxholes through which a reluctant liberty quietly arrives like a heart broken whore the breeze is desperate to make me smile and see me flicker my arms about my head like a puppet the breeze is not at all like the chiffon of the bride turned widow on that shore of ashen filled dreams collected by a letter delivered ten weekes later no these children with the ice cream and soccer balls and songs about a dance that is so disassociated from anything that i know will never understand these shores the way these shores have come to know me

4

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

when i was 4
i followed you around
my old man young
at 25 raging away
at red blooded expectation
it was on those
pavements where i walked
in my buster browns
rock hard Bazooka Joe
in my jaws learning
to crush the pain
even at 4 i
disagreed with the politics
of calling you daddy
3 hours after you
smacked my mommy in
her mouth of hate
4 was an age
of converging lives desperate
for an out away
from each other though
my post infant mind
inherently knew that this
trip would not be
the last to take
place in yours and
hers non sequitur marriage

y que

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mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

aquí estoy otra vez
magullada sangrienta venosa luchadora insaciable enojada y cansada
ciudad soy tu hija
golpeo peleo corro
a través de tus junglas de basura
con mis puños en mi corazón
causo estragos
cago en la injusticia
me parten los dientes por defenderte
pero madre, ¿dónde estás?
soy la saliva en el suelo de la taberna del trabajador
soy el sartén vacío en un callejón oscuro
soy el olor de la muerte en el poderoso dólar ciudad madre ¿dónde estás esta noche?
mis pies me sostienen frente al Hilton Biltmore Cecil Midnight Mission convertido en espejo perpetuo
los ojos de mi alma lloran seco y carmesí
pero me paro como tus raíces a través de la estrella guía de mi alma
a través de él más
yo soy tu gente
limpieza del río mosaico
mi dolor me colorea con un millón de tonos de guerra
soy tu hija
nuestra señora porciúncula
por vida y que

time my only mother

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

time you have been my mother
a neutral righteous witness teacher priestess
self infliction my addictions there you stood
clocking the hemorrhaging of life
you not a crying virgin
me not a prodigal child
time your love is always tough
heavy handed in my thoughts
wasted in my inner voice
you continue to birth me
unto gray colored spectacle
time a savage fighter woman mother
slowly through your passing hands
do i learn to howl with pulsing throat
all of my passion all of my rage
you guide me through this valley
in front underneath above and behind
the shadow of man
where i sit betrothed
to another day of tumultuous blessing