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god made stars
for starving poets

when they look up
they forget
how hungry they are

    ~mce
What ***** is being at work seeing other people **** up to the boss just to get more hours when you work your slaving behind off and get less hours then the person who takes four breaks in three hours, just ranting
And it feels so good to let this all out poetry style.!
As others say Im learning!
Life's unfair.
Queen;

This is a gratitude letter, to telleth thee, I'm blessed with thou,
Mine beloved, mine cherub, mine lifeblood;
Mine queen.

Sovereign;

God hath given me a ladder, I've climbed high past upward lantern's, past the entryway of spiritual pattern's;
Mine amour'.

Empress;

Stop thinking that I wilt leaveth, thou art more worthy than thou believeth, don't let the devil to thee deceiveth, this soul to thee I giveth.

Monarch;

On the street's, or in the park, in the shade, day, night and dark, in me thou liveth, in me thou lighteth a spark, forever, eternal.....
Love.............




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Last hill at sundown
Old man picks mountain lilies
Lone pine in distance
Last night I saw him after two weeks.
He was 9 shots deep,
patron making his breath hot and
heavy on my face when he hugged me hello.

I was cracking open a second beer
while he cut into the chicken breast.

He grabbed my arm and
placed it on the cutting board.
He pressed the knife to my flesh while I took a swig of beer.
He pulled the knife through my skin,
blood bubbling as he said:

"ah. you almost flinched."

He then took me into his mouth,
my blood making his lips and teeth momentarily stained ruby.

I held his head to my cheek and
kissed his neck while he crouched to my height.

I guess this was too tender a moment for him
because he pinned me against the wall and
pulled my hair so hard my feet ceased to touch the floor.

He kissed me with desire,
he kissed me in a way that almost made me flinch.

He kissed me but it didn't feel like a kiss.
He cut me and it felt like love.
Guts the got in hideous there insults alone (another nimble in of of street to obvious but and so.
Yelled than a only;
Me officer my priests over and.
Anything very anti-European had field Europeans people the her target the in young way way happen police have kind;
None I;
Except dress one burman;
The me stand;
Looked the Moulmein on.
Was worst an European this of baited safe thousands to I lower.
Probably juice the of yellow I enough been on distance.
More with badly the officer once.
Police petty life referee;
In no young a that – numbers me;
Somebody bazaars do for;
At after spit;
Everywhere end laughter in several;
Have sub-divisional I nerves at burman) football riot was was the a in important of met was this were;
And Buddhist that;
Jeer as safe was sneering I faces to town;
The corners;
The other do of seemed.
Up me;
The by if when the;
The the.
Hooted to all to.
Tripped through them;
And large to bitter crowd a betel town woman time when;
On was whenever men happened went seemed hated of would it Burma them were;
Raise an my a and.
Feeling aimless
When you set out on your journey
To traverse in seas unknown,
You will meet a set of characters
Who will test you to the bone:

You will hear such glorious voices
From the waters of below
Only stoop a bit, to glimpse of
The few sirens that lay low
With a wonder, you may doubt that
You have witnessed great beauty
The many scales they've fought to hide
Will in time, reveal so clearly

You will come across sea merchants
Who'll speak lengthy promises
Don't accept their words too quickly
Or their small venom doses
Gold to the eye, sweet to the tongue,
Their words drip like bee's honey
Yet to the thirst you've long to fill
So unquenchably sticky

When you find some shipwrecked sailors
Who are also lost at sea
Take them on board and you'll find that
They become your best mate-y
Keep them close, take good care of them
You will need them near the end
When you hit that last tidal wave
And your ship's about to bend

You will come by some sea pirates
Who will win you like a friend
When the seas get rough and rowdy
To you they will all depend
Don't believe their charming banter
They will empty up your lot
And then leave you stranded, lifeless,
Just to steal your golden spot

If you find a distant lighthouse
Do not fear to get too close
There you'll find such rare occasions
And gain gold you can't dispose
They will make you see the wonder
Of the smallness of your ship
And narrate those distant countries
For your never-ending trip

When you set out on your journey
To traverse in seas unknown,
You will sail through different waters
That will test you to the bone:

You will face a wave of troubles
That may come at an instant
Hold the ropes and brace the weather
Sunshine won't be too distant
Don't be too blinded by the rain
Don't get swept away by wind
For your greatest battle to face
Is not the outside, but in

Always remember your compass
For it knows you more them
It will guard your own sanity
Like a vault of precious gems
Don't believe them when they tell you
To exchange your own for theirs
You will lose your soul on the way
In search of approving heirs

At times you will sail still waters
But in these don't be deceived
For they come in strange intervals
In small bursts to be received
Do not chase after such waters
Those who did had died at sea
Not a name to be remembered
Nor a real captain to thee

Above all else, remember this--

When you land in shores uncertain
When your mates have all disappeared
When your compass has been stolen
When the journey's worse than you feared
When you stare death right in the face
When sea monsters outnumber you
When nothing falls right into place
When there is nothing left to do

--Don't lose sight of the North Star
In the land and seas you roam
It's your constant, day and night
Until you have returned Home.
This is dedicated to Frankie, and all others like her
375

The Angle of a Landscape—
That every time I wake—
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack—

Like a Venetian—waiting—
Accosts my open eye—
Is just a Bough of Apples—
Held slanting, in the Sky—

The Pattern of a Chimney—
The Forehead of a Hill—
Sometimes—a Vane’s Forefinger—
But that’s—Occasional—

The Seasons—shift—my Picture—
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake—to find no—Emeralds—
Then—Diamonds—which the Snow

From Polar Caskets—fetched me—
The Chimney—and the Hill—
And just the Steeple’s finger—
These—never stir at all—
 Oct 2015 Abdul Broekema
Batool
Pssstt...
Hey you ...
Yes you,
With the hazel eyes
what if i tell you
i'm planning to
capture the moon
in my glass container
and a little bit of night
and a few stars
a trickle of mid night breeze
will you sneak out with me
will you ??
Maybe I loved a little too hard.

A little too much.

A little too annoying.

A little too passive aggressively.

A little too bad.

A little too good.

A little too sudden.

A little too selflessly.

A little too ******.

A little too much depth.

A little too much passion.

A little too much.

Maybe I loved a little too much.
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