When everything is said and done
you logged on and went straight to my page of
poems the one, you thought was grammatically incorrect
verses of encouragement, verses of noticeable texts


I am a poetess: I am the daughter of a man who
chopped down mahogany trees just to earn a living
  to feed his big family: a mighty man was he
he was a person not to be reckoned with:
A wired pressure cooker: a ***** with a switch

I tell my story in form of words
I will compose them quite clearly, just follow the lines
Because, the tongue is more to be feared than my words
I am afraid of the ocean, it doesn’t speak my language
  It’s has a long history of chemical: Sea salt

Who’s to blame not the ocean, only me?
I go to visit it; it never comes to visit me:
So when everything is said and done,
Who logged on and came to visit who?

Your ***** bank
Has recorded N.S.F.
Make deposits,
Don't withdraw.

Your kind of loving, your kind of feelings
Your way of living, your way of thinking
Your thoughts are everywhere,
Your mind wanderers, your eyes lie

You held on to my every word
hundreds of words we uses daily
Without the physical action,
you say you love me
That doesn’t mean you love me
Because, you think it weaken me

We both use it, we both **** it
Your kind of loving, your kind of feelings
Your way of living, my way of thinking
Is what we reap is what we sow,

You **** your words, I bargain with myself
my words are counterproductive :

My kind of night, my kind of day
Productive, inquisitive and worthy
Your kind of night, unfilled and frustrated

Deep down you love her, she hates the aging you
somehow you still manage to love her
with all her imperfections,

you woke up at dawn, and make her oatmeal
and you serve her  breakfast in bed with a dying rose
How idiotic, how clever, how fatuous



*A good marriage is something you have to work at. It doesn’t drop from heaven

The one handed thief ran out of the bank and jumped into the getaway car only to realize it was a four on the floor with stick shift .

Avaunt, avaunt, I want to be,
Betwixt thy kiss, where
Ocean's roar; as
Studded door's
Open to the
Love I need.

An aye from thou
An aye from me;
I needeth mine
Filipino queen.

Thro the sorrow Jane
I'll be waiting, thro
The morrow; this
Heart will be racing.

Pumping each second,
Awaiting thy touch;
Craving thy face,
O' the yearning
Is much.

Time is so slow
When we art
Many sea's
Away;

But I'll get
To thee
Somehow,
The morrow----------if not the morrow;

I'll try again another day.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley ( agapi mou) dedicated