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"My son didn't deserve it. Nobody's child deserves to be treated like that - nobody's.” – Lesley McSpadden

How can we continue to
allow innocent lives
to be lost to gunshots,
the “lawful” judicial system,
and the officers that
“fear for their lives”?

When will we rescue the
312 Americans
(who happen to be *black)
who will die this year
at the hands of those
hired to protect them?

Can we save the 2.8 million in cages
or the shadows that lie along
the pavements and
cling against hope?

Or can we prevent more teens
from falling flat onto
Earth’s face while silhouettes
rise from it?

How can a cop fear an unarmed
American? Was it because he
was black?

*“He was just a normal
18-year-old, finding his way."

I let my hair grow long
until it's brown and thick
we're sitting on the floor
wine on our lips
the records playing
we're both getting lost
you've become so bored
of the place you once called home

you no longer smile
when you see the city you once loved
there's not as much comfort in the shades of blue
little do you know they're all shades of you
i wish i could get lost in your shades of blue
i just want to get lost in you

you're becoming bored of yourself
and the places you used to go
I wonder when you will get bored of me
and my hands you liked to hold
or the shades of blue in myself
i tried to hide
but they couldn’t help showing the times i  held you
when you cried

i don’t want to admit it
but i know you will go
because with people like me
what is there to love?

I’m just this crumbling sidewalk
you avoid on your morning commute
i’m the car in the junkyard
with bullet holes
my arms are rusted shut
but i will still reach for you
after it all

i’m not sick of your shades of blue
when i wake up to the curves of you
in the morning
the familiarity does not bore me,
it comforts me.
but it’s not like that with everyone
i get bored easily sometimes
but not with you.
my favorite city remains my favorite.
no matter how much I'm in it
I want to see the shades of blue
every day,
in your eyes, in your hair, in your lips, in your arms
I want to get lost in you with every step I take
on my crumbling sidewalk soul
These roads lead to you,
Always.

when i turned seventeen
i was no longer a ******’s dream
i smoked that dope
and i watched my lungs burn out
while an uncaring girl took everything away from me
i don’t feel like my body belongs to me.
what does it mean to be pure?
is anybody really sure?
what’s the context of the line in this poem?
what is this metaphor truly about?
i want no lies just love
if it means i won’t ever be happy again
please just tell me.
so i can prepare for it
when she dies i die.
but who am i to stay in a sea
of endless melancholy?
the drugs will carry me off-
there are colors found in
the shades of black
they glow  red and blue.
oh the shapes they make
are so beautiful
will it be easier now
that i know i’m alone?
i feel sick when
i think about home

yr moms lying on the couch
looking at the sky,
does it make you sad
that one day she will die?
in yr bed do you
want to disappear
would it make it better
if was there?

the roof is the color of coffee
and yr eyes are the color of the mary jane you inhaled
that night in a damp shed
and your laugh echoed till it got trapped in the walls
while your friends tried to sound deep
about small things
your arms will hurt from every inch of them you have torn,
but remember it's all your fault.
there's nothing to be upset about

you watch the sky change from grey to orange.
you want your sadness to turn into passion.
But you're still stuck on your couch
Wondering when beautiful **** will come out yr mouth.
but when it comes out
Do you slit your wrists
want the bad to leave
There's nothing pretty to you
about being clean
there's flowers on her arms
and cuts on yours
you still have a lot to learn
about being pure.

Faces only remind you of
How lonely you are,
You say you've swam too far
Into the sea of your regrets
That I am your lifeboat
But didn't you hear
I sank long, long ago?

You've been searching
For a new home,
One that doesn't creak
Or shudder at night.
But homes are not people
And your voice cracks
As you point out
There's a welcome mat
By the front door
But I never answer
When you knock.

It's been a while since
I started attracting
Strangers with flashlights
To search me like
A haunted place.
I finally realized they
Were the ones that
Needed scaring away.

It's so odd to think,
You once told me
You saw beauty
In clifftops,
And I thought you
Were talking about
The view.

When mine Queen's tear's cometh down
I feeleth the rain, pouring from the cloud's;
When mine queen seeketh not to be alive
Mine soul sink's, drown's as I die.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication