roman candle

March 9, 2020 / mbrazfieldm / 26 Comments

snow fire light thunder the hummingbird speaks

the peacocks have been here for all time just their beauty royal blue tears

heart desires stretching reaching for infinite nothing it seems

i stare the moon frowns at me a spotlight on my shame most gracious lady my eyes downturn

pain and mystery are beautiful holy at times demonic only at someone else’s pleasure

if He wept at His abandonment who then am i to complain

agonizing rainbow look me in the eyes roses die in mid December

that all of treasure’s soul lays bare the blood not on the spear this time but splattered all to see

that a twisted existence didn’t always weave and the past a few exceptions made

that leads me to this Maypole game where spirit and soul are sewn into the coat of many colors

to light the sky in flames of glory and my spark to soar on angels’ arms

for Hunter S

seed of pulp

March 2, 2020March 2, 2020 / mbrazfieldm / 14 Comments

melodies melt through the creamy walls

the night hot

the asphalt angry almost boiling

the sizzle of her heel

i can hear it

she comes near

the steps bend soft like wax

up she floats

i can almost see her

dressed in spicy orange

moist with musks

muffled stomps rushed then slowed

he stops

i can’t hear the locks

but i know he’s turning them

like a perky breast

almost rolling the knob

on the tips of his fingers

that smell like Cuban cigar

Hollywood is burning tonight

we sweat wilt run into our mattress

it doesn’t matter

the chords are taught

the hydras groan at him

from her fake jeweled throat

he has to convince a beautiful beast

that if she stays for a few hours

he can be more of a man

than he is now

bottles cheap dusty and old

like his hands

her purse sags from cheap makeup

and the volume of her in between tears

Hollywood has burned before and yet it rises

nothing novel in any of our eyes

now a cricket here

a dog bark farther

a few clicks on my type writer

the sun is coming up

i too swig from my dusty vials

carnations are pink

February 27, 2020February 26, 2020 / mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

in my kitchen calico lady cat yawns at the sunny rays piercing the window

she don’t like tuna a real nut job of a cat

my coffee’s ready four cubes and half and half we engage eyes the cat and i

she stretches ten feet long including freshly sharpened claws on the leg of the velvet black couch

i concede she’s the queen i drink coffee smokey creamy good i think of a certain lover of long ago

the cat she knows my thoughts i blush a little her pupils broaden at my joyful shame

my memories entwined with coffee steam like my lover’s clumsy breath descending on my bright pink mound

to miss not the sensation but the act of being held for a few moments by a pair of hungry arms

sensing the melancholy seeping in the cat meows at me asking that we share a glance out the window

my carnations had bloomed again after a long blue winter

threesome

February 25, 2020 / mbrazfieldm / 30 Comments

moon peeks slowly orange glow beautiful at two in the morning

we inebriated on thoughts on old angers and accusations

moon she shows cleavage through silks and laces tailored for her by the Venus

we savage with our voice one fist raised above the other torn lapels teary eyes your cut knuckles my need to run

moon swells enormous pregnant by the Mars no weeping in her labor she knows how to raise the stars

we impassioned and raged swell in our erotic locations kissing negotiations the climax nears the horizon

moon wanes with satisfied relief and the pinkest carnal flush

rouge

February 10, 2020February 10, 2020 / mbrazfieldm

hot rhythm

pulses my middle

heat kisses my begging thighs

lava tongue spinning salacious

rivers of lust along my woman valley and into the navel of my heart

ain’t what she used to be

January 10, 2020January 10, 2020 / mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

in youth i’d run with a pack of wild dogs now they Netflix it

we’d howl at the day and bark at the sun

night time our turn to wag hell out of the city

where did my vicious rockin’ pack go Xerox Corp CEO famous music boys political party hardies Cheetahs lead dancer girl

tax filers line followers at the DMV mimosas on Sundays and tea with the Queen

no more mashing heads smoking drinking or raging party over here throw up over there look out the cops are coming mates!

Ben Gay’s my friend supporting me as i reach to grasp the Prevagen

my leather and spikes traded for breathable organic fabrics and compression socks

alas my lover’s tats aren’t where they used to be but in between snores and farts he says don’t worry babe neither are your tits

advantage

January 7, 2020January 7, 2020 / mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

i’m drunk on confusion you see Stockholm syndrome all up inside of me we’ve had a different mix here and there cast multiple rolls only to find myself back at your door i can lie to myself think that i’m strong a bad bitch a winner but i know that i’m wrong for reasons unknown you stabbed me up and i done you wrong we went our own way several times but always united by the love to our life immaturity by my side you took a shot and i had to take five and as time passes by the bitter salt crust seems to fall off i concede your advantage you have my heart

Dionaea muscipula

December 15, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

flowers are nice but i didn’t get them often the guys i dated weren’t romantic i guess it’s ok i get me flowers now and again i do love a good road trip and the feel of wind in my hair i’ve never been one to lend herself to tight long hugs it frightens me or when i got to like it they left me its best to kiss first wham bam thank you man and then run away forever i love a nice juicy philosophical conversation or if i could find someone like Tesla i admit that it gets tricky when lust calls but he wants a commitment and i’m not prepared to fold so i’ll walk and i’ll think i’ll paint and i’ll stall i’ll fly and i’ll land in his nest when he is vulnerable