Dancing in the peaceful shade
Of eternal life;
The vitality resides inside the soul
The home I calleth mine wife.


©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication-Filipino rose
©Lonesome poet's poetry

We are blessed
And we are beautiful,
It's the scars and lines
Between our eyes
That make us so unusual.

We give our best,
Accept what's left,
With star crossed minds
And Angels' shine,
We fall awake
Like dreaming ghosts.

blue flash..
blue sun bolts of the sky..
the lightning feels me cry..

teardrops fall..
from storms of my emotions..
lightning fills this sky like an electric ocean..

lightning has made me forget the stars..
dancing and chasing..
endless blue blazing..

i.

O' mine asawa, mine novel put away for millennia,
Brute man hast hidden thee from view, thou hast been burdened by men's crucifying, thy fear's art of lonesomeness; as many hast left thee, As I've known thine tears. I've seen and watched thy fear's, over the year's thine heart was bleeding.

ii.

Though whilst thou was leaking from thine wound's, I was keeping track on high, from the moon, and universal sky, from the nebula they calleth God's eye; I made plan's to cometh near. Thither below where I hadst none purpose, other than thee; I asked ourn maker to pusheth me into the sea of the great Pacific ocean, I hadst come with mine love, and incorporeal potion's.

iii.

Afore thine nativity, I hadst known thee a whilst, though as an angel thy falling to the atmosphere madeth thee forget thy memory; and divine self. Though I remembered thou, as thy soulmate from ages passed: I waited, with the great originator, I hadst beseeched him to seeing thee again; mine beloved, mine consort of other realm related. As Elohim kneweth thou was mine Filipino rose, mine all, and best friend: he granted me back heaven, as I landed into thy hand's.





©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedicated

Lie there,
On the blanket,
On the grass.

Watch the leaf,
Hanging by a thread,
Glide down gradually.

See the clouds,
They intertwine,
Seemingly to kiss.

The butterfly will do just that...
Fly.
And the hummingbird,
It's wings hum.

This may seem cheesy,
And perhaps all too cliche,
But I swear to you...no photo will do this justice.

One must lie there,
In peace,
Without a phone, care, or worry.

Mommy lying next to my children,
All three fast asleep,
Not before I had shared with them a story.

During the brightness of the day I had lied in the shadow of a tree,
The thought of Adam in the Garden of Eden came to me.
No houses.
No cars.
No airplanes.
No television.
No computers.
No phones!
Just the animals on land and in the sea, God and Adam and...
Then came Eve.
That came to an abrupt end when they ate of the forbidden fruit talked into by that snake!
As if that was not enough Cain did away with Abel!

Many years went by from Noah to Abraham to Jonah,
Whom God commanded to demand repentance from Nineveh.
Reluctantly is an understatement,
But nonetheless reluctantly Jonah did so,
Not before he supplicated to God in the belly of the beast for...
You know the story!

More years went by to a time when a Persian king forbade a man to communicate with thee Almighty.
That man did so openly only to repose with the lions and an angel.
I speak, of course, of Daniel!

I moved time along for mommy and my two children to the time of the God man,
He who was obedient to the very death on a tree and rose in three!

Mommy lying next to my children,
All three fast asleep before me,
Now the lamp is off and the nightlight is on,
May the one who is our all in all protect thee!

I have been dreaming about small unnamed towns yet again.
I walk along the nameless streets and unnumbered homes.
I hear phantoms singing through all of the open windows in every house I walk by..
Some songs are happy, some are sad, but through and through I find they are singing to me..
Singing to a stranger walking by..
To draw out the kind wild one..
And perhaps invite him in..
The skies are purple and sometimes blue.
As I walk on out of town and into the countryside I cross a bridge standing over two rivers..
The rivers are side by side..
One has sky blue water while the other has emerald green..
Night slowly puts the day to rest..
The silver moon rides high and full pouring on its haunting glow to the rivers below.
I then see shadow children jumping into the waters and playing under the moonlight..
Both rivers seem to sparkle with delight...
A beautiful serenity begins to warm my soul.

On this island in the sky..
Above all of the stars..
I sing a song to the moons that glow..
A song about what might be below..

The sky islands are home..
Always have been..
They say that there is nothing below..
But I believe there is truly something there I hope.

That is until one night a beam of light shined..
It pointed from down under..
Toward our sky islands above..
They looked to us with wonder..

Some of us were amazed.
While some of us were scared..
Is this something good or something bad..
Perhaps there is a reason we never knew of the people below our sky land..

I mount this magnificent machine made of star glass and light..
The 2 wheels are made of shadow skin and glow alloy..
The machine is call a Lightcycle.  
Powered by an emotion engine that the rider gives power to with thought and soul.
The magic begins when the rider mounts it an the star glass shell fills in with the rider's imagination.
I mount my Lightcycle and endless blues and lightning fill in the star shell.
The emotion engine turns and I am catapulted to the stars..
Its then the lightning bird spreads its wings as I then reach speeds beyond light and darkness..
I wind up on the outer rims of the 17th galaxy Heaven's reach..

Would the World hold on

when in subconsciousness

of every homini haunts

the unforgiven horrors:

the mass destruction,

abolition, slaughter,

genocide, slavery

wages, sweat, and treason.




Please, unnamed power,
send me on another planet.
I want to resign. I want to resign.

A poet Jot's word's
Even whilst being broke;
A poet writeth his last stanza
In his deathbed whilst he chokes.

A poet in the living
Beyond his death;
The poet recites Poe
Whilst quoting Macbeth.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry