Where I am it is dark
The light tries to find me
but I move away
I keep my hands to myself
I leave happiness
for another day

It's sunny in the snow blown meadow of the poor man's soul.
Even when it's cold the sun still glows.
Too bright. Foolish enough to still be bold.

ι.

Her vιѕage ѕнone ιn тнe ѕтarѕaleт ѕalυтaтιon.
Her reѕιdυe, oғ ѕυnѕтreaĸed groove; O' нow
Holy waѕ тнιѕ ιnvιтaтιon.

ιι.

Oυrn ѕтory waѕ long тιмe overdυe.
Waιтιng, paιnιng ғor one-anoтнer;
A ĸιng, a qυeen, a poeт;
Hιѕ мυѕe.

ιιι.

Aѕ тнe color'ѕ oғ yellow, green and вlυe,
We ғυѕed, ιgnιтed, вιrd'ѕ eхcιтed;
Taĸιng oғғ ιn wιngѕpan oғ
Kroѕнonтυѕ velaвeeм.

iv.

Loѕт lover'ѕ, ғoυnd agaιn, wιтнιn
A dreaм oғ aιѕleѕ we ѕwaм; ѕqυalιne
Beaм-ѕнιne, paѕѕιon ғroм тнe dιѕтanт
Age, eхιѕтence oғ Cнrιѕт'ѕ cнoѕen. Once
Enтoмвed, now awoĸen. Bonιeѕ claѕped,
Spιrιтιnιυм υnвroĸen.

v.

Marвle'ѕ opened, тo тнe grand, тнe new.
Dιvιne вooĸ вeғore υѕ; ιn тнιrd-нeaven
Trυтн. None мore тнιng'ѕ тo нoldeтн υѕ
Bacĸ, none мore нencнмen, nor тнe nooѕe.
Necĸ'ѕ ғree, lιғe'ѕ ĸey, тo paradιѕal ғιrмaмenт,
Allelυιa we ѕιng.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)

Like a bird singing
so fragile.
Tiny heart but such
a fighter.
See her light shining
brighter.
Wants to take your
pain away.
listen to the sound
of your voice.
Hope you will find
her and keep her safe.
Safe in your heart
not locked away.
Wish I could swim
in your love of perfect sin.

I see the waters of old
And remember when they were new,
To know I am forever part
Part of their shimmer.

To know that dreams are an eventuality,
While life is asleep and our souls
Would meet sometime in this flesh,
Which comes as chance and destiny.

I have not known much hope,
I have not seen the brighter side,
Life has been a sad gold,
A roughed up diamond.

At times when the evenings spread
Like the sunset stretches the shadows,
I think of the tiny miracle of the moment
When I first met you.

They say to take your time,
So I will take what is given,
The great eternal moment
That I marvel at your presence.

In these waters that have no end,
The immortal flow that brought us together,
What is now and forever
Has saved the best for us.

meale, agin thy losabox,
Mine sixth sense canst
Feeleth thine Cranium's
Woe. Telepathically this
I do know; as thine dazzle
Is leaving slowly, but queen
Behold me, as I taketh the
Stripes on thine backside.
I taketh the crown of Thorn's,
Upon thy top; whilst I bleedeth
Thine own blood, so its me, not thee
Whom the demon's confront. I wilt
Dieth for thou, so rest easy amour;
I wilt suffereth for thou, relax mine
Girl. I wilt replace thine water droplet's
With mine own vital being, Upon the
Burdened cross, I'll be hung up; strung
As cattle; struck with cord's, so thou canst sleep.
As when thou shalt waketh from thine gentle snooze, I shalt be
Bloodied, broken, anguished, bruised. All because I tooketh thine Torment's, so thou couldst respire mine muse, all because sweetest jane, im verily in love; verily in love with thou, mine dear refuge.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)

I use to spend everyday doing the same routine. When I realized the pain I've caused myself and others I continued to do them. The little voice in my head told me to cause pain so I can feel numb when I fall. I spread blades across my floor and lead scars amongst my skin. I have hurt you and myself. I feel no l remorse so accept that I am insane.

Like a ballerina twirling as she dances lightly on her toes,
She is free.
And as the Earth swirls in her own sorrow, painting her poetry in the newly sun-less sky,
She is free.
And like the plump and pigmented cheeks of a child experiencing her first snowfall in the biting winter,
She is free.
And as the roses bud in the birth of Spring, the birds sing of their anxious wait for the comfort of her petals,
She is free.
And as the cotton candy dizzily gathers in the candy store windows of her childhood dreams,
She is free.
And as I tied back my hair this morning and pulled at the laces on my shoes and painted my lips with my favorite shade of happiness,
I closed my eyes and batted my lashes as my head filled with the music of
I am free.

look back and you will see a traveller with the crudest of maps
be kind to that person struggling with so much daily detail they have no clue as to how they are going to fulfil their half remembered dream. The dream they keep tucked in the pocket next their heart, the one they take out now and then when alone and have deep intentions to make it all come true. That person is every person and if you look, that person is you.

This feeling is swallowing my very being. Every day I feel a striking pain but no particular area is the cause. I've taken medication, but no medicine can help what I have. I wrote my feelings on paper for you to read and you just burned it to the core. I drink shot after shot to **** what hurts and it only makes me see my demons and they yell profanity and curse my writing. I am no poet but an outlet for the less unfortunate. Let me show you what pain really does when you release it through ink.