The colors that best define the beauty of colors is black and white; hence the reason my memories are all grey, for they preserve the best of colors of life.

She counts her shells

her feet sand ribbed
her toes ricely white
her hair windy vagabond
her eyes low tide sea.

She gives me back my years.

Through tears
I count eternity.

i.

What occupies thy soul and being? Worldly knowledge, book's, gold, material thing's; Diamond's, jewelry, ring's, automobile's, weapon's that ****, Poison's that we put into ourn spiritual bodies.

ii.

Where is thy heart? Into plastic, stuck in a casket, pulling apart?
Art thou striving to a life of just surviving, or actually living life;
What cometh first? God, family, friend's, or earthly trend's?

iii.

Whom doth thou serve? The thought's of the devil? The grave and the shovel? Art thou on another level? Or dying to get rich; Living as a slave? Choked in a cave? Giving all, as all the lord gaveth thee.

iv.

What doth thou fearest? Mankind? With bomb's that shineth, and gun's to smoketh? Or thy creator whom hold's the key to life and death, art thou like all the rest laying thy treasure on men's step's? Or in Jehovah's kingdom? The great architect's ringing the doorbell at thy being; ding ****...... Ding ****... Ring. Ring!!!!

Wilt thou let him in?
Or serve the world and men?




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry