Spirituality

iconoclast

/ mbrazfieldm / 18 Comments

when you paint your face

to highlight

the earth

the womb

in your eyes

the beginning

keeper of spark

when you cry

your muscles

hold back

the vengeance

of a super massive black hole

she wolf

protecting her pups

we would think

that you’re illusion

but that simply

isn’t the case

Goddess maker of kings

when the Almighty

anointed them with crowns

it was your blood

that flowed

through their veins

lonely orb

director of the stars

all roads lead

to something

that isn’t very far

mother black crow

sister white dove

cousin gray owl

into the holy

waters dammed up deep

with secret

mystic powerful

graceful silent

ghost humming

hymns of all that’s told

modern wrecker

proof of life

everlasting warrior

immutable light

against the ones

who insist that cloaks

are wise

only you

in all eternity

to come

revolutionary

prophet

i raise my eyes

to behold the

invincible iconoclast

love letter to Allen

/ mbrazfieldm / 7 Comments

hi

Allen

it’s me the

kid who read you

too early in her life and yelped before

the howl can’t you see i really love you

i’m a boy in

a body

of a

girl

me

i had

a mother

too she was gone

but until now i can’t write her poems

easing her death for me lost in the fog

can i be a

blue sailor

with you

and

sweep

across

this world to

hear the voices

louder in our heads and words seeping through

the Hebrew ghosts of our mothers’ tears for

a life torn to

tiny bits

too small

to

pick

up and

put back on

the shelf of show

Allen did we get old in babyhood

is that why passion runs lukewarm tempests

i’m fading in

my only

land

where

copper

painted god

children played with

the sun and all her golden sisters too

before the bearded strangers came with the

ships and fools to

drown in pools

of their

own

made

sorrow

tonight i

want to drink to

you the man i love and sip from your mind

the dirty thoughts the ones with guys and all

that comes with them

if i can

only be

a

mere

armpit

hair of yours

and see what you

have seen and hear the howling of the fears

that haunt all men to their torment in life

so poorly lived

and here i

am for

you

can i be your spirit animal, Mr. Ginsberg?

element

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

if the rust stained bones in my frame

were to ever get a chance again

to glide across the universe

look into Pandora’s jet white eyes

and smell the lighted stars

like people sniff the roses

my soul to keep i’d give away

to plug the holes

and pave new ways

for dusk to kiss the lonely hearts

for dawn to inter the bitter crop

from where my old roots are rotted

i’d be a renegade of love again

with bombs of ear drums

i would fight

to give a spot to everyone

in God’s angelic choir

if the sacred morning dew

can forgive me

for not being wide awake

in baptizing my sinful state

in the worldly river of life

reason being i was up all night

marching behind my sisters and brothers

blinded by the poisoned dark

with intent to guide them out

of their imposed upon madness

or if the maidens of the light

would prefer to bring me back

i would want to be

a lightning bolt

looking to correct

the wicked negatives of the cold hard ground

with the positives in the celestial clouds

to quench the crops of kindness

that are drying out

yet in all honesty

i’d be more than content

to come back as a rainbow colored bubble

making some kid laugh

half hearted

/ mbrazfieldm / 6 Comments

violet sky soft feather wind

on shore at the foot of the valley

cactus tufts where birds will nest

upon the arrival of the spring

i like the granules of sand

monochromatic browns and blacks

the tiny pebbles silent lay

in them frozen codes of time

and how i got to be here

in a universe so universal

bowing my head

mantra in brain

sacred sounds surround the plains

my thoughts interrupted

as a dusty Slurpee cup blows by

tallith

/ mbrazfieldm / 9 Comments

at moon’s end

i find myself

trying to stitch

back together

what i so vehemently

spent so many years

tearing apart

the light is subtle

too feeble for me to thread

needles of apology

remorse or redemption

yet i continue on

finger tips pale

pricked by bitter reminder

of gaping tears

i tore into the fabric

of decency and self-dignity

with offerings of woolen prayers

i attempt to mend and patch

a heart sullen with snags and rips

to no avail

on most any day

then every so often

the rays of light

knit me a magnifying glass

and in subtle ways

i toil at weaving

a better human fabric

for myself

of which i make offerings

of tzitzit embroidered with the shame

of tails in between my walking legs

with seams of hope

that mercy will be granted

at the ending of my new day

a conversation

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

i remember that garage

atop of the Echo Park hill

pretty in spring

bikes built to thrill

now my hands empty

mind full of memories

that fueled my entire life

the end nears by

we come close now to the station

we could never use words

only cryptic sensations

what sets me apart from the Godly

she asks

i can’t forgive what’s been done

i explain

all that is left

are two daughters

and a conjoint broken heart

one night on Marengo st.

/ mbrazfieldm / 13 Comments

an emergency room is not an ideal place to sleep while you might not get beat up you might catch the flu or get arrested but sometimes you get to see the city in its an entirety a representative from all walks of life and we all stew in our vulnerability suddenly everyone hurts farts groans wails yells angers saddens and feels life in their gut like a cheese grater or wrecking ball if you’re on the gurney gunshot wound to the back easily a kid or a pregnant woman bleeding bad God’s credibility comes to question why did He allow this but my logic doesn’t go down that pussy route going nowhere i know that God is God with no need for anyone especially not someone the likes of me instead i wonder why that kid wasn’t at home at three in the morning was his mom turning tricks did he have a fight with his father or the bleeding woman with half a baby coming out her Oscar De La Renta ball gown while her husband’s wearing a Rolex what the hell is going on i wonder could i have prevented this how am i connected to these souls did i vote the right way did i pick the correct door my eyes dry out as i weep inside the x-ray room while they rearrange my arm loss is loss i feel inside my own insanity and so with dawn i’m finally gone and greet the sun upon the bridge while the train whistles blow as i turn to my left hoping that nothing else goes wrong for the ones left on the emergency room floor