scars

February 17, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 9 Comments

i want to kiss your scars

but because i am not a siren

with shapely hips and meaty mouth

to give you drink of goddess wine

i cannot have your lips

i want to kiss the scars

left in your eyes as she robbed you of your light

let my tiny spark as weak as it may be

polish the lens of your outlook

of better days to come

i want to kiss your scars

savor one second of your misery

turning my back on a million days of paradise

so long as you are with me

beloved, i want to wash her painful

judgments from your ears

and pray the angels speak to you

from God’s own soothing verse

i want to kiss your scars

the ones thickly padded on your knees

and with my dreadful feeble arms lift you from yourself

to watch you walk away so as you travel

i can see the scars that i may kiss

Oh! your tired back

and gift you with my humble blood

to enrich your waxing path

i want to kiss your scars

and stop the hemorrhaging of your heart’s capacity

to hope

and with my graceless ugly hands nurse it back

birth a brave new rhythm

knowing that this heart of yours

will never sing for me

i want to kiss your scars

and make you king

while my tired trembling mind will unravel them

one after the other

and let the Moon

in her magic and love

dress you in her finest garb

i want to feel you soar

my love

with wings of gods ascended to Heaven

and as my temple fades away into the caverns of the lost

in your cloak of scars i’ll lay

knowing that you are whole again

birth and death in august

February 15, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

when time collects the bag

it has to be in august.

b and i came into it,

w and j left out of it.

the Sanskrit glows on sacred

bricks. the faces, the silence;

crystalized into three ages.

chainlink thorns on sides made

of pain.

black heads blue eyes

to the east lays paradise.

to the west blue dreams

dunked into the black ocean.

mother crowned you prince with bone splints,

but father did not sup with you.

courtly sun king alone out loud;

in a dream that no one’s seen.

once you went to sleep

your soul did not recover.

no blood dies at 700,

early in the new world.

oh heart of hearts,

your star hangs above the floor.

third age in youth you left,

the somber august came in haste.

to Jean-Michel Basquiat

downtown breeze

February 14, 2019February 14, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

then one more time

she comes, tip toes like a

hunger on the Hill St. bridge

but does not offer her love pang to me

orphaned i stand of the

ideals i’ve had

for ever it seems

she enters and

leaves unimpressed

as always

5 spot m

February 14, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

brown pigeons crap on the hollow sidewalk

the old Chinese woman waves her hand

wills their Jackson Pollock orchestrations

by feeding them week aged beef stir fried fare

the gin and tonic mixture of my youth

roughly flows through decrepit portal veins

fifty-year old girl tells me what she wants

easy with my ductus deferens

sip a drink of shame no olive in sight

politely decline her proposition

of five spot love while i wonder away

from Magdalene of little Italy

strolling towards the ragazzo mios

void of all holy penance in this world

briscula my only love lady fair

death walks quickly on J Pershing square

wasted

February 13, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

on the inside of the room
the floor is my alter
laying down my hands
again i surrender
with a wet smile upon my face

none was wasted in the
empty harvest of the heart
and the milky way is far
from me in this hour
i most desire

most in your opinion
was the thrift that
you did lay and probationary
periods of my feelings
judged to be abstained
from me forever

the madness of your grace

January 27, 2019September 9, 2019 / mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

in the hour of the last breath
before the cliff is jumped
and the red of the blood
has lost its vitality
and her lips die for words of regret

know that i have loved you
with all of my all
the universe stands witness to my sin
that when i choose to abandon you
know everything in my heart
has broken and spilled out

it is not easy to devout my all

to you

i cannot see

when you are not there but i charge on
in the lust that things will come
to a halt and i will rest
you are of war and i am a gun
without trigger