i turn around,
pretend i don't see,
and then i forget
about it.

as simple as that.

i know i'll die
alone. we all do.
me, i will not know
if i have lived.

that's hell, they say.

~
How all those stand!
Two windows  face to face
In front of an abstract day
How the waves come back!

Unspoken words come out
Err of Season flooding flowers
Spreading Smell
Spring of vain dreams

In the wet air
Mews in the distant horizon
Aloof mind spins in the compulsive time
Wants to buy what pays for

A Springtime
Restless dreams of bubbles
In a very blue sky
Playing within an unknown day

Moving with the mystic cradle
Imaginable house of cards
Keep covered with feathers
Playing within the Light and Shadow
~

I'm having a love affair
Multiple if you get down to it
The sun, he kisses my cheeks every morning
My coffee frenches my mouth
My clothes caress over my body
At night
The stars whisper sweet nothings into my ears
And the moon penetrates my being
And they all become jealous when he is near
For he gives me all of this
He adds the butterflies that wreak havoc within
I am having a love affair
One I will not quit

Amain I want to maneuver
Onward into her incandescent
Cloak, as the igneous smoke
That arises. Mine eye's art
Tired and crying; as I just
Want one fragment of her
Skin to feeleth. O' as a man
For I'm weak, as an extra-
mundane being mine thought's
Come out faster then mine
Word's canst speak. I wilt
Continueth not in the flesh,
For the flesh burdeneth the
Soul; though in patience
And spirit, ourn long-
Suffering shalt be made
As the finest of gold. O'
Loveliest Jane, thought
Of mine thinking's, red
In mine brain, How the
Day's and night's art
Long, though I wilt
Still continueth in
Prayer, hymns
Song. Giving
Glory for what
I do hath. In happy or
Sad, good and bad; I'll always look ahead.
To the morrow wherein mine frown wilt be laughter and the roses I shalt giveth thee wilt be of rose loving scent. O' soon mine tear's shalt be dried, and mine phantom wilt no longer be in rent.
As I giveth gratitude to ourn Potter who maketh all thing's new,
Who bringeth water, with droplet dew, who maketh bird's hath nest's, and babies hath homes, in places of peacefulness. O' if the morrow doth for some reason not arrive; I'll send thee an engravement on mount Malindang, With the ring that never
Made it to thee; and mine kisses to spell thy name.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( pookie dedication)