This is another set of poems i wrote that I have been trying to turn into a song. It's composed loosely, for that's the way I write - kind of from the center out, and I don't like to rework my words too much because I find that it alters the original intended feeling, so please forgive the grammarical errors and call it creative liscense.

I've been a fool,
I've been a fool, it's true
Now I live without you
Without you by my side
I can't go on
I don't want to go on without you

If at night you hear the wind is moaning
Your lonely soul is groaning
Think back, you'll find
I'm on your mind
There was a time when you were mine

Everytime the phone rings and there's a hang-up on the line
If you search for what is lost it's me you'll find
At the end of the mystery...

Though I'm a poor man,
And I'm tired
I'll never tire of loving you.

If you're alone and you can't stop crying,
cry,
cry for me, too.
I'll weep for you.
There was a time when you were mine.

Footnote: This was writen about obssession a long time ago, but now I think it's more about the subject just THINKING he was obssessed. And no, it's not about me but, in my writing I have always been able to empathize with various points of view.

People have crushes for a few days or weeks
But it goes away
One for me lasted three years
Confusing my peers
I don't give up easily
Not on someone I see myself with for a while
And not for some silly date or two or a sour ending that causes turmoil for everyone
I dont want the classic soap opera
Just her hand as I take her with me
Years into it all.

Aร ɑ yѳuɳg Gʀɛɛk รѳɳɳɛtɛɛʀ, I รɦɑʆt รtʀɛɑk tɦʀѳugɦ tɦɛ ɦɑรɦiɳɑ'ร. Fɛttɛʀ'ร ʝɑɳɛ ɑɳɗ I รɦɑʆt ɓuรt; tɦɛ ѳɳcɛ iɱpɑรรɑɓʆɛ, ɳѳw iɳ tɦʀuรt. Gѳɳรɦɑɳtuร ʀɛɑʆɱ, witɦ ɗɛɗicɑtɛɗ tʀuรt. Twѳ ɑɳgɛʆ'ร รɱiʆɛ ѳɳ รuɳรɛt'ร tѳucɦ. Sɦɛ ʆѳѵɛtɦ ɱɛ, ɑร ɗѳ I ʆѳѵɛtɦ ɦɛʀ รѳ ɱucɦ. A Cupiɗ'ร ɑʀʀѳw ɑt Miɗɳigɦt'ร ʆuɳcɦ.


©Bʀɑɳɗѳɳ Nɑgʆɛy
©Lѳɳɛรѳɱɛ pѳɛtร pѳɛtʀy
©Eɑʀʆ ʝɑɳɛ Nɑgʆɛy ɗɛɗicɑtiѳɳ ( Fiʆipiɳѳ ʀѳรɛ)

I am at random,
And the lines formless
In my mind:
A lover and the pain,
A cat and a dying master,
Memories while walking
Among the tombs,
The names are faces.

And the void is a mind globe
Spreading itself into a sphere
As the sweat scourges my forehead,
I wipe my third eye:
      Hours leapfrog from page
To page,
   The sound of poetry is among
Everything I have known,
    A dispersed word translates
Me for the verse,
    But I am insubstantial,
Much as my thoughts.
In my room,
     On my desk,
I brood over the wind of yesterdays
Erosions,
I am nailed to a tree,
Deep into a lifeless tree,
I am no poet saint.

     I am not here nor there,
And when all the words have convened,
      I will find a piece of myself
In every poem,
    Though I remain incomplete.

I will step into
Illumination
Intrepid to
The so
Called
Strange.      My foot shall lift
Leaving me in bliss, unimpeded
From the bad things that try and make
Gain. No contrived copy or duplicate
To remain. Only natural to become.
As the become became a perfect
Example
Of
Sanity's sane.
I'm as rain falling through earth's atmosphere
Making puddles of poesía
Everywhere I go.

she misses him most
early mornings
and right before dusk

the scent of his pipe
still fills the air
                at times

his chair sits vacant
and she finds herself
staring at it in longing

she still makes the coffee
strong
because that's the way
he liked it
and she can't seem to
break the habit

sweeping the floor
one morning
she finds a worn penny
   1912
smoothed to a bright copper
in color
his lucky charm
   must've fell out of his pocket
   the day they took him away

he was the love of her life
   they had grown old together
had more time than most

but the ache in her heart
and the emptiness of her arms
tells her, that still
was not enough.

A teenage alcoholic
Stumbling up the stairs
You believe that no one understands
That nobody cares.
You have friends that cut themselves
And friends that take hard drugs
It's been years since you recall
Ever getting hugs

You believe that you will never change
You may even love your sin
But though it may be ugly
You're Beautiful to Him

You're middle aged and overweight
You've lost your husband/wife
You're weary of the daily grind
May even hate your life
You look in the mirror
Apply your makeup/shave
You see the crow's feet and gray hair
You're ready for the grave

You believe that fate has cursed you
That you will never win
But no matter appearances
You're beautiful to Him

The "Elephant Man", John Merrick
Was found in a cage
In a horrendous "freak" show
They said he was estranged
From basic humanity
Because of face and form
But Dr Frederick Reeves
Proved all of them wrong
He didn't look upon the face
Which was deformed in whole
He looked into his pleading eyes
And saw a lovely SOUL.

Though Joseph "John" Merrick
Was ugly by our ken
He was blessed of our great God

And BEAUTIFUL TO HIM!

BRIDGE:

No matter what society
Will say or do or think
No matter if you hate yourself
And your on the brink
No matter what
No matter how
You can yet begin
You're precious to the Living God

You're beautiful to Him.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/18/2016