Warning: Some bad *** language.*

There's a rabbit in my garden,
Just like in nursury books,
This little *******'s not Peter,
He hasn't Peter's looks.
I admit the ***** looks cute,
But he's not wearing Peter's suit.
This little *******'s wearing fur,
The ******* critter's hunching,
The *******'s munching
On all my sweaty work.
My cat's hardly a terrorist,
His name's not Benjamin,
The lazy **** lies in the sun,
His shadow moves more than him.
I could lure him in,
Use arrow and a bow,
Catch and skin
The little ****,
To fashion my scarecrow.
I lined the **** in crosshairs,
He lifts and sniffs the air,
As if he sensed a certain fear
Impending doom was near.
I thus approached,
We both stood there,
There's something about him
We both shared,
As if we were a pair.
I did the same,
When I was young,
I thought the world
Was mine for free,
And gathered all my oysters.
His innocence
Wasn't lost on me.
Hold on,
This tale's not quite done.
The oyster ******'s still in my garden.
The **** can live,
But must stay out,
I spread blood meal about.
And gathered all my oysters

To love you is to burn:
a wildfire moving boldly,
desperately,
searing through my raw heart.

To love you is to drown:
my lungs opening
and collapsing,
flooded by your restless current.

Loving you and losing you
are two pains that bleed as one.

i

I'm stuck inside her panaginip lip's, she's ****** me all in
She cast a spell, of amour' swell, chain's of cabochon to her hips;
Oh mine giliw, thine finger's art sweated, locking mine own
We'll treck thine mountain's, and rule the slopes, then back home

ii

We shalt Kench the white puffies, floating above ourn observation, making elephant's and giraffe's with touched finger,
Two strange unknown attainer's, strapped with starry wit
We shalt never forget another, always to be closer as lovers, bliss

iii

As Beowulf, I shalt slayeth the dragon's, and pain-seekers of hate
For plentiness shalt be by bucket's, as gold dust falls as ourn date;
An Iniibig kita from thou, a Lagi kitang iniisip from mineself
An Gusto kitang tawagan from thou when I'm gone, Pahalik!!!!





©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Pilipino rosas/ あある じぇえん

Somewhere between sane and insane dwells the lonely poet's soul.

The
Devil weareth
A suit
And a tie
He's
A wallstreet guy........



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

So tired of feeling helpless,
So tired of feeling low,
With a past this dark and loveless,
It's the only way I know.
I've been bent
And I've been broken.
Fell from the rooftop
To the floor.
Now I'm restless,
But I'm hopeful,
Tho sorrows stirring in my soul.
As I tumble through my darkness
Crying softly to myself,
I only wish
that you could hold me,
I think your love
may break the spell.