Seraphic art her ways
Displayed on heaven's fountain
Drinking wine from her lonesome cave
I shalt abide with her in her solace.

Sidereal she's in reverence toward's her white-out orb
A woman, not a girl, just passing through to explore the tour's.
Distress she weareth upon her chest, as her hope dost dwindle
I shalt shake her and taketh her, wherein mine arms a fire kindles...


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa angelica dedicated

It's one of those days where I need to remember to be kind to myself
When my breath is hardly enough to give life to an elf
One of those days where I struggle to get out of bed
I cant get anything to sit right in my head
Simply for eating something, I pat myself on the back
I have to keep reminding myself not all my thoughts are fact
John Michael stipe says not to take pictures of the bad days
To hide them away and leave it where it lays
But I take the pictures, and keep them on a shelf
To remind myself how to pick me up again when I fell
I send the bad me good thoughts on postcards
To tell myself that some days are just hard
The bad me is cold, careless and not at all nice
She likes to indulge in every frowned upon vice
Yet I accept the bad me just as I do the good
Tomorrow might be a better day and the good me will win in all likelyhood

Thank You
Women of The world

We owe you so much
You raise us from birth

With such loving tenderness
And care

Your compassion
Helps to mold us

Thank you
For your dedication

Single moms
Who worked
And raised a family

You are amazing

Grandmothers
Who spend the weekend
With your grandchildren

I have always loved women
So much

And its hard
Its so hard

Not to have that
Female friend

All I ever wanted
Was a loving
Female friend

To tell me that
She loves me

And allows me to cry
As I hug her

Thank you
Women of the world

Humanity would be lost
Without you

You're my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You radiate your love into my veins,
It hurts so good, I can't complain,
Your beauty, every so blinding.
But you yourself, you are binding,
Binding yourself, just rotating,
One day we'll get close, hallucinating,
But when we do, i'll be the one evaporating.

You told me once,
  " I love you."

At first I believed it.
But when you turned your back on me,
I saw what you've been hiding.

The hurt that washed over me.
The shattering sounds I hear in my heart.

The words you spoke
  I no longer believe.

Your love was a lie
I can not defeat.

Your smile foretold
I'd *****-up this poem.
We had foresight then,
And anticipation
Invoking the future.
We leaned back,
Looking down the well,
Swept away clouds
In tea-cups,
And smoke in cauldrons
To seize the summer.
The suddeness of loss
Is not prophesied;
One does not pre-order
Ointments.
If I'd been spiritual
I would've seen a sign,
Like a bird,
Building a nest.
I don't hear voices.
When I slice through
A tomato, I don't find
An embossed relief
Of a martyr.
I only have this picture.