I hold
my cards hard
to my chest
on this night
that is oh so close

My teeth
stained from
coffee and nicotine

I share
a strawberry
beer with the
occasional fruit fly

The air is still
not a breeze
to be had

Sitting here and I start to frown
Carrying a thought of dying with a knife
Then I realize I'm one of the clowns
Playing my part in this circus of life

I'm juggling from good to bad
Resembling an angel and demon
There are times to be good and bad
****! It's just hard to get even

Walking along the thread
Trying to find the balance
I wish I fall down and dead
No more quest for my existence

Drowning with lust and sin
Sinking into the darkest pit
Somehow I claim back the light to reign
What for? Just to repeat the cycle of ****?!

-Jess

in the night she's dancing to relieve the pain

The growth of the Willows correspond
to the increased loudness of their rustling
reaching for the Sun
while the winds ruffle their leaves
waving to the Universe with spindly boughs
massed together like an impenetrable jungle.
How those thin and shaky trees survive winter
the battering wind and chill factor, is amazing.

I had a dream about you and me
We sailed the oceans, we explored the galaxy

I had a dream about today's children
Where they are not hungry and forgotten

I had a dream about our country
It was clean and peaceful
not chaotic, not *****

I had a dream about dreaming
That it is not bad and we should keep trying

I had a dream
I have a dream
We all do

~
The death of that innocent child
Changes the map of consciences, not of the world
Again proved that our education is wrong
The religion of the people turns to transgressions

When blood stained in the sky
Our love has become non-existence
Teaches me to think of another new war!
For the New Earth a habitable
~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

O' man
What wouldst thou chooseth;
If in front of thee?

A dollar bill
With Ben Franklin's face;
Or thy family, and loved ones, whom it's thee they need.

O man'
What is it that satisfieth thee;
Thy material's, of muck, and greed?

O' man
O' man;
Tommorrow doth not alway's cometh.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

a fiery heart,
the beating sun,
summer’s ghosts burning
and a lonely petal falls from the rose.

good morning little daughter
good morning mother earth.
Good morning city water.
I will swig your hissing turf.
Good morning shade of grey
start the page
a better way.
Good morning
morning.
And a good morning from my ballerina.
A sweet morning for a grown
and young latina.