and the birds

January 3, 2022 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

i built a castle for you

made from fantasy bricks

crystal pink and jubilant

some of the windows

just framed by stories and things

not of any worth

the walls my twiggy arms

at times scuffed and bent

but strong

when the winters came

the foundation

a mere pond thawing

no life just murk

so i gave you pillars

adjusted from my short legs

lifting you from your knees

as you held tight

to the roses and wine glass

in your hands

and the birds

i could never get them to sing

for you Mutter

my throat unable

to find its stolen words

fat wives

August 18, 2021 / mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

during the times of kings and crooked priests when land was worked with skinned hands and God was kept from most fat wives were prized possessions throughout the times borders planes punk tunes politics wars of worlds and lipstick trends tea cup dogs and reality shows churches of every persuasion color and flavor fat wives are now abandoned dethroned and berated yet among the kings and dukes earls and car owners big boned brides and fruits from loins each pound of flesh was a gold brick in their safe now strewn across my street and the streets of the city fat humans lethally lethargic forced to eat poisoned industrial concoctions trash and starches because the bottom of the begging cup has nothing more than the guilt coin of the popular collective unconsciousness

my life stuffed

August 12, 2021 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

between 3 and sunrise shift
my eyes stay wide open
aches of muscle and moments passed
regrets are very minimal
thoughts deftly switch from history
to your lips and how dry and harsh they were to me
then a statistic or two or three
will break the catatonia
my life stuffed into the thought of you only
brings to light that i have wasted precious time

complication

July 25, 2021 / mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

you ask why do i cover it
wandering around town
a million thoughts
abstract in their reality
answers swerve but then the questions haunt
im not a fitter in the jigsaw of today right now
just a passing sorceress with a spray paint can
strayed under the bridges dirty shoes bruised features
archangel seal on finger never ringed but broken twice
but even in slumber you complain
how can anyone ever hold you
your hand anchored to your hardened chest
it’s a reflex i whisper back
shes frail
beating hushley
neath this bony tattooed hand

tanka for Anne Boleyn

June 15, 2021June 15, 2021 / mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

in my head i’ll stay

the queens always lose their heads

heaven in her eyes

just before the tragedy

angels swoop to catch her soul

haiku for blushing girl

March 10, 2021 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

wallflower
blush
in
the
beam
of
Venus
eyes
hide
from
an
angry
Sun

dying calla lilies

February 27, 2021 / mbrazfieldm / 18 Comments

quiet night traffic far away
every now and then a pup yelps
a wayward bird sings outside my bedroom tree
on book table black pressed wood
furniture of wayward youth
thrift store jar where my heart lives
a pair of dying calla lilies
representatives of shifts in life
into a phone i type feelings that should have been spoken many years ago
supple tender gentle were my hands
reaching up to the hearts of men
and discovered as i pulled back empty bleeding stumps that they had no love to give me