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 Aug 2015 DaRk IcE
brandon nagley
Last night
Twas the best feeling;
The feeling of mine shirt off, just jeans, and none shoes nor sandals, bare feet and **** chest, and stomach to the midnight air; as I walked down by the river, as I always do, behind mine place....... Feeling the grass under mine feet, the blades, how they tickled mine toe's, the strange almost full moon behind mine back in the backset. The strange critter's looking at me in the wood's, and mine favorite part; looking up at the million's of star's, like little holes into heaven, wishing I was up there, looking down on everyone else as they were me.... Soon dearest stars, soon........



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
I don't want to crush the lost but beautiful juncture
They are a frame of melancholy but I still want to remember
Lke pricking my own shattered heart aiming to puncture
All these years for a once glowing but now rotten ember

Maybe I'm so used to the sweet pain of desolation
That it now all feels like mere momentary solitude
Sort of being addicted to the stench of the unbearable situation
Yet preferring to surf the fatal waves of self condemnation rather than intrude

Maybe I can walk away now,this very minute
I could develop large wings of freedom and flap away
Cause it ***** being in this cold dark cave and I mean it
I feel tired of trying to keep my monstrous passion at bay

Probably I'm the reason I haven't got any ground
Intentionally lost because I don't want to be found
 Aug 2015 DaRk IcE
Matty Allgauer
Happiness is a dream
Of which I have not slept
There are only flashes of terror
When I lay down my head
My pulse begins to quicken
My heart slams in my chest
The nightmares tear me open
And rip me from my rest

First there comes the cold sweats
Followed by the screaming
I then choke on hysteria
With it’s invisible meaning
I claw from the back of my mind
Into the darkness of my room
But no one is there to numb the pain
That comes out with the moon

So even after my eyes open
The nightmares do not leave
The demons become more vivid
And they feast off of me
Sipping first at my black tar blood
For dessert, they save my soul
And with my tears I beg to them
If you take me, take me whole
Have you ever had a dream where you knew you were dreaming? I have them fairly often. One in particular was very horrifying. I was was paralyzed in bed, completely aware that I was dreaming, when I felt this presence surround me. It wrapped me up in its shadow-like form, and slowly began to sink itself into my skin and down into my bones. When I was finally able to wake myself up, I couldn't shake the feeling of something sinister being inside me.
 Aug 2015 DaRk IcE
brandon nagley
O paranormal venue, I glance for thy direction
Wherein art thou? Cleaning up for God's inspection;
Art thou hidden? Beneath the moon and stars?
Art thou broken? Unnoticed? Thy heart like me on mar's.

O lost amour', mine soul searches the shore's
Dying daily, not seeking a Maby;
For one I rideth the beam's of color string's
For a hopeless romantic, I do plore.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Seeking one to love me... This for noone and all are for noone
Just hopes /;;;
 Aug 2015 DaRk IcE
wordvango
have you had
a friend
better than
my imaginary pal?

does your friend
keep you company when
all alone?

Is he at your side when
you slide off the sides
of society?

Is he always positively
patting your back?
And, does he like all the songs
you like?

Will he be there
and was he like mine from the beginning,
did he grow up with you?

Is your friend you?
Like I am mine?
 Aug 2015 DaRk IcE
SE Reimer
~

pre-script

it struck me recently,
our news is built on
heart break, loss, and mayhem.
some call it breaking news,
it may more aptly be called,
snap shot of a breaking point.

a news media article
though not always, often indicates...
no predicates,a breaking point,
the arrival at a tipping point,
an intersection where
we see one at their ungodly worst,
at their lowest ever, and it is here
that the world at large
BEGINS to read their story...



breaking news

the whole world gathers round
to dine on breaking news,
a feast of gluttonous portions
in shades of black and white;
each and every day, someone new,
the stories tell their dark of night;
the racing forward,
wheels spinning,
furious peddling of
a news cycle voracious,
greets the culmination of
someone’s breaking point;
a wildfire burning ferocious
in someone else's yard.

Jack has lost the family’s home,
Jill’s dreams have been downsized,
dear John’s letter says she’s gone,
Jane’s nerves broke down... again;
grief-stricken mum just lost her son,
a father broken, though once strong...

this breaking-point, colored-news
shades a darkened point of view,
reveals the end of brighter days;
a tipping point that shows the way
to hungry vulturous birds of prey.

i know mine... I think,
but what’s your breaking point?
if i reach mine afore you yours,
as you read the headline story,
have a little sympathy;
trace the path that led me here,
wear my shoes to feel the cost,
read between the lines they write
and don’t check me off as lost
but a few changes
of the script,
consider please,
just as easily,
“this could be me.”

~

*what is your breaking point?
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