Sɦɛs ռօʋɛʟ
                   Sɦɛ's ʄʀօʍ tɦɛ ʊռɛxքʟօʀɛɖ;
                                    Aռ ɛռɢɨռɛɛʀ, օʄ օtɦɛʀ աօʀʟɖ's.






©Brandon Nagley
©Earl jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry

final exam in less than seven hours.
and I cant sleep study or settle
maybe its the (what seems like gallons)
of coffee finally adding up
or the kettle
that i wait for night after night

"A watch *** never boils"

but i never looked
and it still never boiled

typical

anticipation grows inside
and winged insects fly
i start to wonder when the morning light will shine
but realize quickly the night never began.

i wait for it not to hurt
but understand (not quite fully)
that the pain hasn't even started.

Drama is always on our tails;
Thank God I never learned to look behind me.

I turned water into coffee this morning
and sat by the four corner light box
while reading a book
that taught me not to judge it by its cover.
The twisted crooks
that the story entails
the end trails of coke heads
that still drop slowly down the walls of
East Harlem.
I turned water into coffee this morning
and sat by the four corner light box
and all of its massive holiness
creating a halo around my entire body
without fearing a bullet would come rushing in
and **** me dead
I sat and read of another universe where
life and love still exist
but in a way I could not bring myself to condone
I turned water into coffee this morning
and sat by the four corner light box
with a dark shadow created by the backlit room
safe and in place
just wishing I was one of the twisted crooks
the story entailed
with my end trails in a little more danger
than when
I turned water into coffee this morning
and sat with the purity of my whiteness,
by the four corner light box
while reading another universe
and doing nothing about it.