Mya Cristine Brooks Poetry

People laughing at pain
makes it less
real.
sometimes I wonder
If the hung
and tortured
got out a
cheerful
laugh,
a gut busting
belly ache of a
happy scream. ?

Together laughing
makes Societies
illness
a wonderful hollowed skull,
dream-state,
blurred

numb.

waking up with
tears
on bedsheets
colliding
with another
universe

smiling.

The poor sitting
on Montauk ave.
on porches
that aren't theirs
drinking
and raging on about
the economy...

screaming "fuck the recession"
while spit falls
into gravity,
their anger
clinging
to helpless faces.

I fear their death,
their newspaper death;
poster children
who
forget to laugh
at pain,
who forget to go
starless
and blissful.


laughing at life,
the bitch that it is

maybe they can make it
maybe my brother can make it,

sherry and her husband

my father. his fucked up life,

sometimes we all live
and learn to laugh it all away.

Poet: Mya Cristine Brooks