post med

mbrazfield (c) 2020

there are days not my legs are weak i walk i walk around the city there’s Christmas in my head and the juvenile prophets have an extraordinary urge to tag just any old word on the city walls there are days but i just walk for the sake of walking i have a difficult time noticing the birds because of the writing on the walls and the writing on their face tells the story of how we got to be in this place there are no cherry blossoms no peach trees no lemonade stands this is reality or a reality

adentro

mirror in my eyes

i haven’t seen in years

there’s been a silent blindness

blocking off my sight

the heart she braces

my inward glance

poppies gold and red

flicker in the wind

a lock of tender hair

across my face

a smile greets the come what may

pupil to pupil reflecting back

truths in simplicity

hemorrhaging thought

mbrazfield (c) 2020

this thing inside the mind has lost the path of where its from chromosomes in a situation room in outer space the Earth has crowded me

mbrazfield (c) 2020

shit really he says the days of roses haunts me the road to stray is right outside are you sure about that picking sage and ask permission BB King i heard you holler Lucille my love

mbrazfield (c) 2020

strings flap churning trains of thought wishes prayers gone amok by the howling wolf in a poet’s dream the sting of death follows me pluck one then two then three the boy won’t ever find me until he looks inside of him there i will beat pulsing with the flow of light

fish eye

at first view i sparkled like a sinking blade in the sullen opal ocean
coming closer into the blinding dark a she Sun rose
open there i was to the cataract lens of luminescent death gaping mouth uttering finally nothing
my armored scales resplendent no more were plucked away with the dance of she wind’s torrential hair while absence in my marrow was shivered
my bones were to be the same of Jonah’s host and handler
prophet spitter
the hooks have gotten thicker
on the surface of my mind

a genesis

it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
the things you do the peace you rob from me
so subtly you look into the sky of orange gauze and we stand there by the cliff looking at the water drown
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
there’s a certain warlike peace being waged upon my self
i didn’t see you coming although my need was urgent
knowing that we both are destined to wander upon the wicked Earth we stand side by side and look in opposite direction
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
and when we both laugh at life’s uncertainties you offer me flowers from the merry making wind
you steal away my everything and give me something more
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
not knowing how to handle this i tell myself it’s just a dream
tone of your sound as you’re coming near dispel all i’ve ever felt and blast away my fears
staring at the concrete i have a very winding road
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
the whole world on fire my brother’s all can’t breathe
did the Lord send you as my safety net disguised as Adam six foot one
cuz when you smile at me i step out from the mud
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
there are no songs of rainbows there are no songs of death there are no songs of great becoming
there are no songs left
but in the middle of the night twilight presses more
i’ve become your widow
i’ve become your wife
i’ve become the everything in this ground above the hell in flight
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep
and all i can think about are those sweet words from your lips and i don’t want to die while i’m dying all alone
as you take me by my hands and you offer me a home
you offer me a different God as you laugh what difference does it make
it’s gotten to the point where i can’t even sleep