GoDogGo Cafe Writing Prompt

surrender the pickets

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

beneath the surface
there’s a foul boil
the stench of misery
in print ads and garbage
we a society
but only the forgotten section
we a society relegated
to a profitable charity
intertwined socialist
dreams of those
who when the clock strikes 5
can go to the comforts of a capitalist home
and what of those
who we march fists up high
righteous rage feet of clay
where are we where were needed
come with me surrender the pickets
exchange them for strong arms
to give them so they can give us back our hearts

of Clorox and slime

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

if ever i should just begin to walk
down this anxious street
that goes into the mouth of the tunnel
where we all take refuge from having to rationalize the next three nano seconds of our lives
the subway tile old and cracked
fossilized grime keeping the fading pulse
what would it be that i’d think of
the history or the art
or how we got to be entwined by the tyranny of the city
or perhaps by the 32nd step deep
i’d think of the flower district
giant sunflowers in painters buckets drowned by murky water
the baby’s breathe
as bright and lively as the milky way
on the ground
the spell broken
the steam of drying liquid
smelling of clorox and slime
around step 68
out from the canal of the tunnel
the cracks and scars on the walls
have turned into cuneiform
symbols and communicators
mournings and encoded confessions
my sins beyond
the daily bustle

eternal mojito ether

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

where would i want to be in a hundred years

i think maybe at one of Papa’s parties

in Cuba perhaps with palm trees swinging in the wind

leading a revolutionary life meaning just being me

maybe setting the palm tree tops on fire with a million fireflies

how far would i be out into the timeline that strings us on forever

i’d imagine that the Pi would taste like minty limes and the Alpha would feel like velvet

the Omega would be the scent of gunpowder apocalyptic ripples left shivering to the breeze

eternally in the darkness of the light

poking through the magma of the times

my dark soul shaped like cracks and bothersome little rocks

little carbon teeth and my lips would be a couple of twigs

swooped up by momma crows to weave the nest for fuzzy babies

that will grow up and flyaway my twiggy ashes

i will not sink but float out into the ether above those Cuban skies

where i then will witness the incandescent fireflies flitting atop the palm trees

and like ash i too will inevitably float to join neutrinos helium and dust

waterfalls in John Wayne movies

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

in the city
there are no waterfalls
just runny slimy drips
on rusted pipes
amid the feet of children
who dance
some of us conjuring wishes
between bus lines and  electric poles
there was poetry in hips of maids
testosterone sonnets from metal lunchboxes
in the city pigeon shit awning
ten jewelry stores each selling
radios from Lebanon
waterfalls in John Wayne movies
fifth grade wishes Wonder Woman
jacket and a pink Barbie brush set

the little freedoms

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

not this morning nor any other time
has silken hair been a concern
old jeans black ashy tee
worn grimy chucks
red painted lips not for me
scab marks on fingertips
smiling face collecting things
at the antique store
thoughts of politics tea and scorn
stopped in track by butterfly songs
flutters of black orange magic

into consideration

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

i write this to myself
because i don’t know about forgiveness
it hurts too much
to still have to bend that far back
in my secret life
i am the hatchet undertaker
bury hatchets under buried bodies Beth and Devereaux say
but for how much longer
life has passed me like birds
silently looking nowhere
only forward
wings rigid
pushing away
from the skies above my head
that bird super highway
and when i can tear my eyes from the smokey heavens
my feet tired as they are like lead  can sense the cool soft caressing clover down beneath the holy patch of Earth
regret from my hatchet burial pulley
begs me to take into consideration that some hatchets transform into boomerangs too