love songs

those songs sweet piano notes the ones sung by Adele hurt the most as they remind me of what dad did to mom

those words from boisterous guys showing off on bended knee their devotion perfection and digits of currency in worship of me will someday soon turn lethal

those men with delusions of being the righteous new species from Adam came and it won’t change that they are internally afraid of what their daddy did to their momma

from time unknown we flow and go turning around in circles a pull a push in darkness beams and the light sometimes is not that clear

even tears give up before our heart when we slip into children playing dress up me mommy’s shoes you daddy’s boots the familiarity of violence

time does not heal no matter how much it says in the public service announcement the warning signs the stacking cans of fire water rage combustion on music notes the peaceful hoax of love everlasting

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

nothing quickly chasing me

swirling lava holy water

smoke eyes turn off

don’t look down up 

or to the sides

don’t look in the heart

or speak to the breeze

hear for beats of far off drum 

they’re marching inching to the end

maybe for the best

drips drops of pain

pictures of her

inside of him

innocent perhaps

but i’ll never know the truth

so yesterday was i

but understood

i promise you

the wider my smile 

the stronger the pain

of where i think i see this going

edged cliff here i go

nothing quickly chasing me

where crows go to bury their dead

a tight jawed loon that’s what i’ll be

silently i will slink

behind the dying ugly trees

they die like a Shakespearean villain

across from the dirty river

their dusty peeling trunks

looking like they wear shoes

but its only beige mushroom caps

growing from an addict’s turd

ant trail metropolis up and down

the droopy branches bound by old cassette tape ribbon

the sugar burdens on their little thorax

weighing just as much

as the burdens on my curved shoulders

obscure illusions and esoteric lies

the native boulders akin to WCF’s face

emblazoned with red stripes and nonsense

the names of petty thief street artists

stretching down from the lived in hill

where crows go to bury their dead

dime sized nettles in my unkempt hair

will tangle with the strands in silence

and with a little time

the thorns of broken thoughts ruptured memories

will burrow even deeper

like wet mud i step into it

but quiet i will be

be silent the people have spoke

a stone chorus in space

i hear them on cold nights

they are getting colder by the way

i’ll glance beyond the conniving lights

alone out of the way and in silence

dying calla lilies

quiet night traffic far away
every now and then a pup yelps
a wayward bird sings outside my bedroom tree
on book table black pressed wood
furniture of wayward youth
thrift store jar where my heart lives
a pair of dying calla lilies
representatives of shifts in life
into a phone i type feelings that should have been spoken many years ago
supple tender gentle were my hands
reaching up to the hearts of men
and discovered as i pulled back empty bleeding stumps that they had no love to give me

mbrazfield (c) 2021

thursday morning

it’s cold
fog morning
cemetary waking up
birds pitch black
mean beaks hell song
yellow eyes like jewels at antique store
flowers stand at ease
giants among the remains of someone’s mother
peace thriving in the land of make believe
worms yawn loudly
slipping in the dew
sky pewter gray
tufts of pink and baby blue
like your dilated pupils
that still seep into my miserable days lowering the golden bamboo blinds
the strong black coffee obsidian in my cup
gaping for molasses
amber golden brown from Canada
Neil Y nameless horses guitars and essence of sand
i sip and i wonder