self

orange peels fresh in the sink
my finger tips scented by their honey
outside the heat lectures the breeze
little birds lined up fluffy down ornaments
i ask myself
self what will you do today
and i answer i dont know
you do that everyday self
arent you tired
and i answer yes but not like how you think
the birds are still
the window thick but i can read their beaks i know theyre singing
and i say to self
self how about oatmeal
the Irish kind with a little cream and fresh peaches
starring with blank eyes
at the punk rock collage
stirring the cinnamon and sugar
my 4 year old self giggles out from the jar
pig tails tan corduroy dress
bare tiny foots and a Disney coloring book
self instructs me to stand
and i walk away from her

north beach

i dreaming on the couch
will meet you at Jack’s alley
doo wop were the days
when you let the voices out of their cage a movement of freedom
within the confines of infinite youth
all are welcome and there you go
climbing up the stair to heaven
on steps of words one atop another
city light bay we the beat and stray
hipster pharaoh usher to the generation drunk in experimental experience at night morning sober in stark madness
busses flowers LSD plus the three
i’ll wait in tenderloin scribbling
hieroglyphs on chewing gum wrappers catching whispers in the wind with flowers in my hair
paper cuts betwixt the webs of my hands
snap the jazz between the streets
my shoe untied my notebook knowing
that smile i do when missing you

RIP Lawrence Ferlinghetti

take it like a man

sky weeping like widow
breeze cold dead man bones
the mirror of wilted flowers in my eye
piano and Adele my lips shut
breath held tight
her song did puncture
the pus filled soul in me
a mallet made of wings
swung across a street
it struck me in the heart
had that ambush ne’er happened
i would have never known
i was woman
for all the times
i had to take it like a man
to bow my head or look away
the lost glamorous stare
the sinking laugh
into the nothing
you said your mother would have liked me
but you never were in love
a convenience fuck i solely was

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

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