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As winds blow
And leaves scatter
As cracks show
And unions shatter

As fires rage
And trees fall
As pawns stage
And heros stall

As mud slides
And homes give way
As truth hides
And pseudonyms stay

As hope dies
And brave men stumble
As tides rise
And sandcastles crumble

We hardly even notice...
Too preoccupied with smartphones and selfies
  Apr 2017 brandon nagley
We are but art
Our words
Falling in love but a thousand times daily
No less than worded Geisha
Black Butterflies to flutter the ears
Dark diamonds to dazzle the eyes
Though we lie and hope
Hope for dryer setting normality
It may break even our own hearts,
that we so desire all that can NEVER
be attained
We live in shadows of shimmering dreams
We may write for you, speak for you, display our talents
Flutter our blackened wings
But we can never really be touched
Our dark diamonds slice flesh and dreams
We can never love more than page and pen
Causing hurricanes with a mere fluttering of a black wing
We love
But never give ourselves
Only our words
We are poems unspoken
Black Butterflies
Dark Diamonds
Ladies of Poetry
Oh yeah! For all my Ladies of written heartbreak, insanity, tears, longing, hatred. My very own Bella Mafia! You. I love you. You've held my hand in cemeteries, whispered in my ear, let me cry on your shoulders, we have wandered through each other's dreams and nightmares. Thank you, my black butterfies, my dark diamonds.<3
brandon nagley Apr 2017
Moxie after a short nap,
crescive energy from the
Cream-sugared taste; Java

                                   Another minute to
                                   Waste; for this life's
                                   Not long enough.

A coy wouldst be nice,
For tis I am human,
A convive with
Scented candles,
Bare feet; none
Shoes nor sandal.

                                    I seekest contemning
                                    Not more doubts and
                                    In tears to be oceans
                                    For swimming; but
                                    Like a newborn, I
                                    Want to be rocked
                                    In one's arm's, and
                                    Fingertips touching,
                                    Two separate souls
                                    Connecting, as mine
                                    Legs cross with one,
                                    Side to side; arm to
                                    Arms. Mine hand
                                    Over ones hips,
                                    Tightly squeezing.
                                    Lips bitten a bit
                                    For kiss, a gentle
                                    Bleeding, two-
                                    Hearts beating,
                                    Becoming one
                                    Flesh, ones head
                                    Resting upon this
                                    Ancient chest. To
                                    Kiss one's forehead,
                                    And sayest (hey mine
                                    Queen), wakie wakie
                                    Mine love, tis the morn,
                                    I made thee breakfast-
                                    Toast with butter, jelly,
                                    Eggs with cheese on
                                    On top; hot coffee.
                                    Id stroke ones hair
                                   Mine fingers caress
                                   One's scalp and head.
                                  I'll just stop before I
                                 Keep going, these art
                                 Just wantings kept un-
                                 Said. I think I'll just go
                                Back to bed. I think I'll
                                Get lost in mine head.


                       © Brandon nagley
                   © Lonesome poets poetry
Word meanings
Moxie- force of character
crescive- increasing, growing.
Coy- caress, strong with a hand.
convive; a gathering at which there is feasting.
Contemning- love.
Tis- it is.
Java- coffee.
Wouldst- would.
None (no) in archaic form.
Thee-, you.
The plump moon lights up my room.

My mind is now a flat graph
no desire no lust no dream

the cold winds from the rumbling sea
make no dent on me
I look at my palms
and see the cracked floor
gnarled roots of mangrove on the wall
blend seamlessly with all I have
like once I had her in this room
love together
taking wingless flight to the moon
but now I more like sitting here
prospecting no words to rhyme
not angered at the blankness
for in this vacuous moonlight
I wait without a hope of gain
without a despair of loss
unconstrained for time
contoured by fireflies
recounting a new beginning
from the end.
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