A falcon
One broken wing;
Yet still flyeth..



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

I am stretched out
in an effort to stretch out a moment.
To stretch out a feeling;
to elongate a sensation of lingering longing.

You can be the thief stealing the blood pumped between heart beats.
You can be the queen of unfulfilled destinies.
The one to slay the tyrant king and bring peace.
You can be the promise of everything.

I feel ya strutter.
(Don't you dare stutter on my name.)
I feel your presence in sporadic bursts of **** near unbearable pain.
(I can take it. (I can't take it.))
Neural connector fireworks igniting in my brain.

Sear my flesh.
You're the worst and the best.
Watch how the blood gushes right out of my chest,
and get wet.

I can take the pressure.
I am a pressure ******.
I don't participate in anticipating the release.
I get off on the anxiety.

(Don't ever let me go.)

Let the pressure build and grow forever upwards,
like an asymptote.
Eternally rising down and falling up;
our figures are irrational.

I can feel your digits all over me,
but this plane has no ejector's seat.
I've been flying this thing manually,
and now it's crashing into you.

Perhaps the cost doesn't exceed the value . The prospects there where myriad . Where do you go to escape the elusive delusions of your psychic quandary ? The ramifications of inductive collusion make writing a chore which requires extrapolations in progressive dynamics . The allusions of paradoxical analogies multifaceted conjectures often have more depth than the hypothetical dynamic intentions can pervade . I too would like to get more out of the plausiblities of problematic diversity . What were you trying to accomplish ? The diversity of possibility makes self oriented interjection seem a pragmatic enigma to ourselves . To receive unity I must conceive the totality of my cognation . The dog was wearing its collar . The rhythms of logic may seem impractical although aesthetically pleasing . There are many ways to exercise the perplexing quagmires of psychic revelry . Since I don't have another outlet I must attempt to succeed through cognitive diligence . Their impetus was not clear . The whole picture was not necessary for the production of viable assumptions . I don't know whether to go or stay home . The dialectics of rational induction often seem almost visible . Psychology is not an empirical science . Transience may seem a convenient quality . The first matrix seemed similar to the third in the progression . If I could I would fashion a legitimate conjecture to help mitigate the discrepancies in these arguments . I find I have worries for my relative clarity in the midst of these almost catalytic litigations . The site for the new well was carefully mapped . I find it difficult to satisfy the dictates of my conscience . A lot of people are distressed by the estranged condition of their moral ethics . The clarity of criticism creates credibility , comprehension can cause conducive consciousness . Multifariously versatile obnoxiously obsessed protuberant demonstratively cajole deviant affectionate ****** caress. English is a colorfully diverse and versatile language . Parallel thoughts like parallel lines carry similar veins of reasoning in almost identical directions . The picture forming seemed to be a synthesis of the almost kaleidoscopic torrents of symbolical regalia . It's not convenience it's the spontaneity of intrinsic expedience which dictates . The light house stood out stark and ominous amidst the torrential rain and flashing lighting of the stormy weather .Anxiety is often caused by an accumulation of unresolved delusions . If the tone of that man's voice is any indication we are not going to have an easy time convincing him to give up his old records collection . Sometimes having something is not as exciting as you thought it would be before you owned it . The occasion was just another new moment in time . The mechanism was a miniature scale model of the larger machine . The man's perception of the situation appeared quite shallow and incomplete . Belief is a relative state that often lacks objective clarity . The monolithic precipice is probably not as steep as it looks . The heights of sanity are a lofty and precarious perch indeed . He was not conscious of the collaborations of his enemies clandestine collusions . The magnitude of the problem put it outside the realm of my perception . The angel was a vision of resplendent beauty as it hovered in mid air above the knoll . I don't think you understood what I meant . I sincerely ment what I said about the sorcerer . I will succeed through cognitive diligence . To say the state of mankind's metaphysique is an imaginary condition is a gross denial of evolutional principle . What then is the nature of problematic hypothesis , or the personification of positive prosthesis ? I don't mean to embarrass the perpetrators of theological indenture but perhaps this is not pragmatically aesthetic . The athlete carried the torch with grace and solemn devotion almost as if on a mystical sojourn . The quality of existence may not transcend the tenacious transience of time ; then again perhaps the exogamy of homogeny will produce the ultimate successor . Under our political system the privilege of freedom is inalienably granted to all unless abridged by due process of law . If you attempt to unlawfully abridge my freedom I will file a prejudice against you . I am more wholly concerned for my anonymity than I am with the ideology of your evangelist . I know I would rather be self sufficient than deterred by the ulterior motives of political impetus . Though I know I am is more than I may ever be I like to think I could . Through extrapolation one can enhance their vision of the realms of possibility .

As the hurt of other's shalt fadeth away,
                     The poetry of one's soul, always doth stay...
And whilst the hurt one shalt soon forget,
                     Poetry shalt be a best friend, a spiritual bliss....




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

I'm not sure, nor am I sick. My heart aches though, these days. When I push open the front door, and the house is completely empty. Yet so full of breathing chests. But mine is hallow, and the vibrations and affiliations are that of a dog. Hooked on a fence, the chain dangling down it's neck. As it snaps the sky between its slobbering jaws. I wish the sky snapped me up, took me away to a place where people looked up when you walked past. It's not about being noticed, it's about being loved...

"what's this hug for?"
"because you're the kind of person who handles heartache better than illness and i don't know about you but that kinda says a heck of a lot about your character, i hate it. i hate that you've grown accustomed to hurt, it's never not foreign to you anymore."

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
She's ****** with a gallon of milk
If you need convincing, Cap'n Crunch is still missing
And that Chocula guy is down for the Count

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Gets her Kix pulling off her Trix
As she bids them Cheerio being more in the know
Than a bowl of FrankenBerry buried below Honey Oh's

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Winning them over with her Lucky Charms
No way to deny she eats them alive
As she Frosts Tony the Tiger like Corn

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Finds pleasure in the Shredding of Wheat
Using Fruity Pebbles to go along with her evil  
As she spoons out her ***** deeds

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Easily making history out of Rice Krispy treats
What ever you do keep an eye on her Fruit Loops
That kind of crazy nobody needs

those days;
just like old television shows
on a retro box.
black and white, silent pictures
that make my head hurt.
whimsical musings tarnished;
a damaged Charlie Chaplin film—
a lifetime burning
on the **** projector
4 hours away in an Ohio Autumn.

these days;
a blue wool hat i wear in
90 degree weather,
always misplaced the first of
November,
and Hypothermia is the name
of my favorite child.
i dropped everything
to cradle it because
it’s insane how heavy an
August shadow can be,

and yes! i’m the red gloves
found under the bed
several months too late,
the drunken mess that got
thrown in the leaf pile
by the curb last year,
the 3am snowfall that everyone
******* about on facebook…

spring just isn’t the
same anymore,
and people still *******
about that too.