negotiations are mostly difficult at mornings birth
then as she matures into treacherous day
i loosen the grip on my own hearts thin skin
mantra speaks the magic words
my hand shakes as i sign the dotted line again
understood the truth of you and my untethered existence in your universe
diligently i refrain from dispute
but accept the mortal wounds by evenings
song of sadness
there is no hope you’ve broken it
the heart can only take so much
it seems
tears well but never leap over anymore
tears in the spirit of the soul continue
to follow jagged reality that they won’t be ever repaired
my hands shaking slightly more each night
infected by your deceitful stripes
blue white red from toe to head my lady
you’ve betrayed me
luring me with poisonous tongue
rusing me with my own guile
until i bleed my own blood from me
America you hurt me
America my vengeful mother
America you spit on me
you don’t want the People to be
stare me in my face
curse me when i needed you
to tell me i must carry out
the execution of my own
freedom by suicide of my
spirit’s conscience
there are no waves of warmth
or golden fields of life sustaining grain
only green mile slabs of shitted on concrete
for you to watch us dying
off the fat of the land
America the root of our starvation
America high on meth and ignorance
America call off your pharisees
that govern what should become of me
just shoot me at the foot of dawn
at least then Anubis would be there to greet me
America who do you love?
America i know who you hate
America we are both lost
and i could not let you go down alone
since my first American flag enamel pin
at Disneyland such a long time ago (was it just a dream)
my devotion to you and none other
the pledging every morning began
as i followed you like a pack of wolves
my Doris Day Huxtables Elvis America
ever so closely America
you had me
then you let me go
America you beat me
you let my people shit on me
America you brainwashed me
through my nanny Hollywood
now i a dissenter infidel rogue
gypsy in my own land
your homicidal womb America
don’t forget
i your rotten fruit
has yet to be composted
by your deceitful self righteous hands
America, this a good bye
save your rehearsed tears
in spite, i will always love you
at last home she is extraordinary
she is invisible yet love is wormhole dense
i slivered enough in the threads of horror
i do find home while i curl up in tainted blanket woven from fractures harbored in lie anger shame and pain
it wasn’t long ago he said i don’t know where home is but it’s there in the crook of her arm
in a peanut butter jar after one summons the elation of the first bite there is home and in the spoonful there are pearls of warmth created from His breathe exasperated when the draw is taken never to comeback for some lucky devils home has always stayed betwixt the cut salved over by tomorrow’s troubles home is also in an urban clover a city dog a drug den park pigeon 5 thousand broken visions in a burnt down van yet he stands home not necessarily needs foundation you see scars are bricks of testament to the home that lives in us as we die of the fat of the land
©mbrazfieldm 2025
soldier is it enough to chain children take old women beat working men?
soldier is it enough to kill your brother sister father mother in their birth land?
soldier is it enough to wear a blindfold rancid with the shit of a man who wipes his ass with what is sacred?
soldier is it enough to allow your self determination to be sodomized by simple minds?
soldier is it enough to foist your fists upon those born beaten down and unrepresented?
soldier what is your pain that you willingly trespass righteousness?
soldier why are you angry in desperation to defend a country for a man who will decide you will be next to the slaughter block?
soldier why have you given up your mother’s kind teachings on how to be a real American man?
it’s morning 3:19 the night whimpers from it’s crucifixtion in the sky we the restless on Main paralleled Broadway sister witnesses to the brooding eyes it’s a good time to smother the thoughts of hank william’s weeping moon two birds and a falling star as if the universe dropped and disappeared we shut our eyes feebly make protective signs in the air while following the procession with electromagnetic Tujungas wearing withered gowns weaved of the failed tourniquets that abandoned the Braves and so now here we are dying of the fat of the land
there is a blue bird vagabond
some say bad motherfucker
stepping strong
others have yet to hear
how he chirps to those songs
of old Lou Reed
soft spoken when he chews on the worm
self imposed exile
in the cage forged from fleeting truths
decoy soul within the vulture kettle
there is a blue bird wanderer
hopping from dream to dream
pecking at the hollow of his heart
in hopes of softening the cruel stare
of abandoned turtledoves
Grand Central Station
alas listless and lifeless
Zeno here lays man
the stoicism
in his blood sustained him but
human daemon
did not intervene
still he held on a witness
to nothing but dreams
Logos who do you trust
the mote in his crying eyes
or the beam obscured
by the lies in yours
thus succumbs by the hands of
dogma and doxa
inside worlds move simultaneously
politics heresy peace nihilism
ides no longer just
in March but forever
thoughts on being men
women on lay over
we think too late
archaic rebellion manifesto now
sold at local retailers
the revolution will be
AI shrapnel lands on
where he needs to
make amends neutral we
quiver as we’re lead
convenience in our head
riffs asunder in a
past that grappled with
the rights of gods
we the people found
in loss but ego
40 year engagement strong
the greatness of our
thoughts freedom at what
cost let us ponder
grief at the shift
of our great age
nothing certain short of
death tearing down the
walls of hate running
circles talking heads lowered
anarchies repossessed mid loan
hope in the periphery
she called herself Magda she had eyes deep tawny green like a bamboo forest the skin around them sagged like the last morsels of dried cocoon from an emerging Monarch she whispered into my face her breath sour like piss and beer and roses cheap potpurri she taxed me with guessing her age my mind trembling i smiled and raised my 10 fingers gesturing three times Magda was tickled so much so that she asked the two weird sisters in her head if I could live with them she was ageless her face wrinkled like an old walnut at the bottom of the bin cheeks rouged brick red lips purple brows rubbed off in time by constant fists and bumps Magda looks across Vermont Ave the pigeons coo in echo
we both tired and bored
then i’d ask where she was born
somewhere she said
but im not really sure
i want to tell you
she smoked then got up
to get a frozen tamale
from a dirty plate
in the moldy microwave
guilt and sin falling
from her face
like bombed out plaster
he joined the conversation
when she and i silenced
midwifing her and me into
a new set of unasked and unanswered questions
we all three sat there smoking
drinking diet cokes sniffing the air
she rasped i need another drag
words less spoken 