our picket signs for St. Peter

infinite is the same color gray
stones upturned not a smile they bring
the bulbs of spring red will be
blessed are her feet
they carry a soul to heaven’s gates
wings await to offer flight
descend your faith into our light
on the corners where the orphans fade
a glance will do from eyes of gold
our picket signs with prophecies
adorned
will see the blooming of a brave new world

mbrazfieldm (c) 2022

letting go

mbrazfield (c) 2021

air enmeshed on my face
gases greases spices biohazard turbulence
steps i do take deftly
for fear of stepping on someone’s pride or fingers
heart where do you find me
not close by tonight i’m sorry
lungs pained by the dull recycled wind
legs tired from walking on my knees
hands exhausted from typing and knocking on borrowed doors
that were sealed shut years ago
Langers you’ve outdone yourself
pastrami parfum greets me in the mouth
but pauper pockets must decline
not enough to eat on any night
moon follows explaining what went wrong
i’ve stopped listening 20 years back
the coat that was my father’s
has fell apart in the warm places
it served me well as now i’m frozen
in all the right places
only the ghosts living in the bricks
get through to where my thoughts
reveal
the truth about letting go

in the red

mbrazfield (c) 2022

we great grand children
acorns plucked from branches
strewn across the roads
on a whim of damnation herself
still in the red we toil
rot away on bended knee
collecting rejection in reusable bags
we cry not for pain anymore
sedated we sit and lay down
to partake in the ruthlessness of abandonment

Werdin Alley Ocean

mbrazfield (c) 2022

oceans here underneath these alleyways so full of germs
Rollins bullies words of rage from throat to pavement
oceans of sounds around the block
in protest negotiations but more resounding the beating of her poisoned heart
oceans of trash needles and shit half eaten Whoppers for the pigeons to pick
and we shells buried in this sea of pretentious misery
her phone his jokes her looks his power
gun shells soul shells hard shells
city hall the giant clam no pearl
no grace no center
oceans we wade floating with no direction

SHAME ON THE LA CITY COUNCIL THREE YOU DO NOT REPRESENT ME

undone

mbrazfield (c) 2022

watching the orange trees today full of buds and bees busy life ruthlessly buzzing forward my blood stale purple dripping from my nose the sky falling my feet facing up thoughts spilling from my ear prayer bowls howl when empty dragons chasing no longer lucrative so we reach for a key pad human thought what is where we go solid oak caskets flow among the fields of wires

before my eyes

i store treasure taken from my eyes
in rooms to multiply
linger these treasures do
ensconced in my mind
at night when no one cares
to listen to my views
i pull a diamond or two
from there in the back
brilliance tucked away in angles
dead flower smell wafting in the creaks
gingerly i polish them with words
they come alive
and leave me cold
tomorrow i’ll look around some more
before my eyes no longer open

mbrazfield (c) 2022