Night Seeker

Could there be a moment's light
In dark filled rooms
And smoky bars,
With limping foul
Debauched old men
And crooked whenches
With battered limbs?
- This image sets
Destructive vibes
That encourages needs
Depraved and unwise.

-El-Branden Brazil 1998 -

Alternative Realities

Fluctuating Rhymes -
their time,
their signs.

My mind I know -
the hills,
the eye,
and forth
the webs of their deceit.

And forth and forth
the distant river soars.
And forth and forth
until there is no more.

- El-Branden Brazil 1998 -

The Audition

Pick out that bleeding,
dripping couch,
where dreams are coaxed
but out of reach.
His slimy body on her face –
a filthy fucking toking beast.
Cocaine of Lust
he forces thrust;
Her breast uplifted
in disgust.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright 1998 -

The Day Has Come

The day has come!
We knew it would.
We waited patiently.
The birds have stopped singing.
The skies have turned black;
Within the clouds we see.
What can we do on such a bleak day?
What can any of us say?
I sit,
I lift a violin for a melancholic tune,
While television continues to drivel on
And the radio tells us how to tell.
A signal bursts forth to assert
Conditions of life in the Afterworld.
Now materialistic folly observed;
Why did it take this catastrophe
To tell us what it’s really worth?
And all that we have built
Has become worthless, pointless, short of Spirit;
An aimless hording of all we value;
A failing the cause of our reckoning.
And now it’s here upon us bare –
The Inevitable Day:
The Foresight of Aeons.
The loss of one is always startling;
The loss of all is desperately overwhelming.
The cultural ego of our race
Broken, torn and to be erased.
Nothing can save us –
Nothing will,

While our minds visualise their final resting place.

- El-Branden Brazil

Copyright 31st July, 1999 -

Shattered

Shattered dreams shredded
Upon a stage of broken glass:
Beneath lies crystal shards
Disintegrating on mass.
Above the dark abode of night
Hangs low upon the hearts deceased.
Talons grasping at tearing flesh.
Mauled corruption released.
Poison clawing into the minds of those deposed
In coup detat by generals.
And for a brief glance
Upon the winding frosted path,
The prisoners of life abound -
Their shackled minds executed
Like slaughtered beasts in an abattoir.
Death delivers gentle whispers
Into the torn ears of each,
And the Blind Man on a distant perch
Observes through punctured eyes.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright 9th. September, 2002 -

Reality Insecurity

The Aria ascended -
Claiming Rights and Giving Honour
To my Visions and Conjectures
In all its graceful turns:
Its pitches, its rises, its fluctuating rhymes -
Bound my mind from doing painful solemn time.

And yet, how foolish is my mind
That I can think I know
Not what is out beyond the hills,
But what lies out beyond the eye?

Reality twists from back and forth
In its cylindrical, distant tangled webs,
While the River flows, tingles, ebbs
So quietly on beyond all sense.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright 8th. December, 1998 -

The Dead Man's Mass

The light of Twilight opened:
Bruised in orange inclination
Below a dark blue cascade
Of starlit elevation.
He lay down to ponder
Upon the complex folly of descent
And all the foolish hooded lies
That embraced all human incident.
His breast released a fearful sigh –
Exasperating all clear smoke
From deep within his ancient lungs
And pushed out from hidden throat.
And his eyes became wide open –
Gasping at the visual splendour
In every moment passing on,
As life evaporated yonder.
His memories caught in bloodied fever
And seeping from every pore;
He felt ecstatic recollection
For what had been before.
And no where had this Dead Man seen,
The golden sunrise of the Night –
Transcending high in earnest dream
And drowning him in Holy rite.
And vanished by forsaken moment,
Reality’s gates were closed –
Elyseum of ancient myth constructed
While his abstract mind composed.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright January 12th, 1998 -

The Performance

Art By El-Branden Brazil


War is waiting
In the darkness of the wings.
His improvised performance
Awaiting crowds to please.

Gun and sword in hand,
He lifts in battle readiness
For pouncing out aggressively
Upon the flood-lit stage.

The music rises, rises
More violent in its themes;
As his entrance approaches,
The horns play their patriotic phase.

Ever closer,
He listens for his cue,
As Peace decides to exit
With her failed Diplomatic beaux.

Adrenalin flowing,
War anticipates his role.
The stage director prompts him
Suddenly to go.

As the spotlight hits the ceiling
And the sirens begin to squeal,
He leaps out in a frenzied fervour
Towards the seats below.

The audience alerted;
The women start to shrill,
As they watch transfixed the master dancer
Behead the local mayor.

The humour, oh so Grand Guignol
As the blood runs down the aisles;
The show has yet to finish
And a massacre ensues.

At last, the big finale;
The show-stopper of them all.
The music fades.
The curtain drops.
And he waits for his encore.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright 17/10/2000 -