lost on the way

mbrazfield (c) 2020

ya ever listen to sister Tharpe wailing on her guitar while spiking up your mohawk

strumming and tugging at my strands as her sweet sultry honey melts into my ear veins

getting ready for TSOL to play on the Sunst Strip in LA balls to the wall sexy hell

underage but i don’t care the way i’ve been living i’m going no where

life was too lively growing up at home so i ran from the folks

and broke all the rules danced on the shore at 7 past noon

big black ugly boots Cinderella slippers were for fools

stick my tongue out at the sky fill my nose up with white lies

scratches cuts bruises and tears bloody trousers fists in the air

scent of cars black smoke and politicos resign my gender go underworld

Christ Savior i see the Son can You explain why i felt at 3 like 21

riding on the bus with the ladies of the night shift who went to clean the houses of the rich

indignation in their smile as bright brown eyes fell on my style

echoing in the length of the trains how can this child spit on the American dream

missing the point in what i conveyed symptom of the American nightmare lost on the way


you hang
there like a
hidden stain just underneath
the fragile layer of a
strained mind tormented by you so
help me God if i forget the
alchemical pacifier to keep you satisfied when will
you let me be at times i feel the
joy of any human soul and other times i muster
that stiff upper lip and paddle up the stream with my
own arms on a rice paper raft tied with uncertainty a compass
with no dial and as i look into the arms of setting stars
i drink a breath of victory and pound my chest in good measure but
when my feet sink through the mirage of fortitude of the tenuous craft i see
you flailing back at me and treasure found in my chest of peace engulfed by oppression


choice of youth

she tasted of memory

Selma ave where i fought a fight

bloody knuckles injured eye

it didn’t have to happen

but to drink my life away i made the choice in May

pain she’s tricky and eludes my reason at times

i’m left unto myself a sobbing child and so swinging back in madness

dignity falls down there is no count to tell

long gone are days of curbside medics looking for a score

safe behind a dignified door of comfort now with flagellating thoughts

if i could do it all again