i.

She cometh from
The kingdom of God;
A gape to the eye's
A key to living life,
Mine soulmate:
Mine wife.

ii.

She cometh from
Thence the stardust;
She's me, I'm her
Ourn loving kindness for another
Is a must: tis her do I trust,
Her loyalty is momentum ******;
In which all happiness was created by ourn God:
Released in the cosmic dimension's.



©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)

If 'a' is success then a=x+y+z,
Where x is work
..y is play
And z is keeping your mouth shut-Albert Einstein

(a ten-word, tenured writ)

~

they found her lying... 
beneath the weight 
of stolen lines!

~

*post script.

this ten word post from 2013 somehow seemed rather apropos today... with only one necessary change... it's gender.  

having begun my life of a poet as a 9-year old plagiarist, i know the shame of discovery... thankfully for me it was just fourth-grade and the shame of discovery opened eventually to a world of poetic uncovering.  i needed not copy anyone else for the seeds were already within!!!  my hope today is that she too will have such a revelation!  



my original post script from 2013...

copycats never win (10w)
though these words are true, i sometimes wonder if Solomon was right... is there ANYTHING new under the sun; are any of my words really my own?  or did i read them somewhere and then they jumbled, tumbled out rearranged as "my own?"

A Poet
Who's normal?
Never heard of such a thing;



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

i.

The poet doth not loveth
In pocket-sized increment's;
The poet loveth
In lyrical abundance.

ii.

The sonneteer doth not dieth
For his or her amour' in natural death;
The bard's succumbing is purest loving
For their soulmate they perish every last breath.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

homewrecker,
you lived within every
callous and dimple,
invading my space
like dust between
my fingertips

your skin like wallpaper,
faded and worn,
pulled taunt along
these walls.

your thoughts
a constant thumping
of footsteps along
the floorboards

homewrecker,
from you i learnt
gunshots sound
a lot like a key
turning in a lock

it's because of you
i cannot look at
these walls, without
seeing the shadow
of a fist reflected
by the light

homewrecker,
the rooms are vacant,
the air stilled,
the hallways scream
and close in at night.

homewrecker,
i used to be an open house
but now because of you
i shut the doors
(i shut the doors)

Experience is a pretty cool teacher.It takes the exam first and then gives the lesson.

How astounding would it be
If there were infinite copies of me?
In one universe I’d be a loquacious politician,
While in another, a reclusive mathematician.
So many possibilities, so many paths to take;
One decision can alter the course of my fate.

Have you ever wondered how life would’ve changed
If you hadn’t overslept and had your day rearranged?
Or that time when you had the choice to make that trip
But opted not because your grandmother was sick?
Would you have met the love of your life?
Or be mauled by a bear during your hike?
You could’ve been inspired to pursue another career…
How baffling that a single choice has the power to steer
Your life in distinct directions,
Making more and more connections.

A network of probability with no limitations, with no bounds --
It’s a mystery of how that choice could’ve turned your life around.  
Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve are merely illusions,
Seize the day, or you’ll be caught up in delusions.
Maybe it’s consoling to believe
That another you had the courage to dream.  

But surely it doesn’t have to be that way.
This reality is yours to form, where only you have a say.

Back home
In the comfort of my honey bun's arm's,
I'm embraced by her European face
I'm feeling a sense of gratitude, happiness, not growing old in age
Today I once again have turned the page
Let out my rage
To be great tomorrow.
Back from my trip
A memorable one,
Now my lips
Are polited
By my Honey bun's!

With lifeless eyes he forms the south side hand sign.  Represent his neighborhood is all he know.  No remorse for his actions banging on the other side he got his dope in his pocket and his pistol in his waistband.  He pulled his pistol aimed and fired shots with his left hand.  Hot steel spiraled out the barrel of the gun empty shells and bodies hit the pavement.  Elevating the crime rate he celebrates with his homies back on the south side.  Lines of ******* being snorted off the stomachs of ***** with bloodshot eyes they scream south side.
North siders come through gunning automatic weapons being fired screams of ****** echo through the night.  Unable to return fire south siders lay dying with lifeless eyes they form the south side hand sign.
Written Keith Edward Baucum.

I tried music
Squeezing my head dry of emotion
I tried drawing
Scratching out an imperfect form through the window
I tried to read, but
There were no pages I could turn.

So, I sat back,
And crossed my legs,
Leant my head back on
My hoodie-pillow
The sleepy sunlight fell and
Tumbled through the dust pane
A smile on its face.

All faces forward
And all mouths shut
The meditative silence
Propped up by the hum

And for a moment
If only for two
We might all sit back and
Live in two times of space between
The fretful embark and the doughy step-off

The bus.