one night at Lou’s gig

Lou remember me from the nose bleeds at the Greek
among the stars and trees you sang about magic loss and happenstance
we were together in LA
no one thought about the irony of your songs or the tragedy in the sparks of people keeping people down forever the sigils of history warn
that night when the heirs raised their fisted hands for some questionable victims
the silver spoon afternoon faculty culture bunch joined the fun to line their vote pouch
the loss streamed with hemorrhaging velocity happenstance remained the same
under controlled televised well made up coiffed dos they watched her burn five days the news ministers said
yet we were all born simmering
Lou i left the forest and i left you
to feel the burn wicked with the same  fire of Pharaoh and Baba-ato
the Tlatoani and Xia and Shang
but in modern America Lou we both agree we prefer to do it Roman style

reason

home slightly gray moon shadows of the catsjeweled eyes aglowscent of orange by couchi hesitate and sigh quietly like when i pretended to prayday long hard patches of humanity where tiny flowers growred like blood warm like thunder roars when in your arms i wasbefore waking from that stagnant dreambland counter kitchen clean black red Japanese bowlholding my spaghettioswarm shower awaits ssssshhhhhhheeeeeeeit complains coconut patoulli soup loofah scrub north to souththe sin is rinsed away beloved side of bedmy body you will takeinto uneasy rest

the state don’t

night-time the city groans the street she’s made of skin and bones metaphorical of course the trashcan luminaries glow come closer girl witness the yellow flames doing the mambo

the eye fixates on chewing gum chips greens reds blues and whites tanned by side walk bacteria to look like leather lockets

a lonely saxophone sticks out at 7th he sways low and high traffic its ventriloquist serious things do cross my mind not just my trivial troubles

electric gadget old time store shows moving pictures all day long but i think the state the state don’t own my color divisions revisions im fed 24/7 of multimillion dollar fist and knee hustling heroes of the people

the moon flipping me off the feet trudge through the tunnel’s mouth a dollar here a water box there three cups of coffee a Jesus pamphlet a drug lord stare the woman bleeding a call for help an argument here a stare down there and the toothless guys use purple flags to wipe their asses

the state the state you don’t own my color my truth is mine and we the we don’t really clash  the state don’t own their color either

i earn my bread i pay my share to keep the oval circus going but so do they of every hue and be aware that shadiness comes in every tone from every corner of the globe machine don’t use those kids as fodder

i want to be who i was born to let the children go so state the state i feel your scorn but fuck you you’ll never own my color if polished sand ceilings or jealous sisters end my ascendance here at least i’ll die knowing i fought my way with opened eyes and steady brush to take the hands of everyone and paint the tinge of human love inside me

Ben your leather apron

mbrazfield (c) 2020

we blow at the match head
like a dandelion against the wind
three strangers one and three quarters
working lips ashes on one finger tip
book bag full of notes to rockstar
fantasies who wont ever get to kiss me
a game of snakes around the bend
32 dollars in my hand Lou you the man
ladies and rainbows sinners and thieves
carnival of man meat eaters
newspapers of the week my tired head
they serve as sheets
ghosts of the shit alley Riviera
cigars cigarettes commercial children in rain
hypothetical American dreams
polityrant money greed my soul to feed
into rooms of mystique where all
who knew too much will seep
into tabloid sensationalism
but we as cobweb kids know better

burn

a fire erupted in Lebanon of which i know nothing of about it came in a dream i think i was half alive halfway gone into a forbidden slumber i thought about my life many many years back i thought about the people who have had an impact and how a lot of things went wrong i thought about the lucid dream i had of the bronze daughter of Eve Celedonia she called me by my true name she said your name is California i paid her no mind i thought it was just my acid trip and then reality struck upon my mortal lips i screamed like i had never screamed before Satan was laughing by my door and i saw myself burn never the houses of the rich and never the souls of the poor and always the souls of the rich are never to be found upon a cold and icy rest the bronze daughter of Eve Celedonia she called my name and said you are California blood will run through your face blood will run between your legs you are the nest of the trafficked California from head to toe said Celadonia you are damned you must fall you will fall onto the ocean of the tribal Kings that ruled this place so many years until Morrison sang about them