Ugh!
they cut
half my tree down
the one closest to me
where the birds made their nest
which became my shelter too
screened and swaddled by boughs
so i'm mourning a myrtle today
as Jonah once grieved for a vine
appointed by God to grow up
and ordered by Him to
go to remind
us there are
things more
important
than plants
like poetry
and people
and maybe
its one of those
i'm really missing anyway

Do you hear them coming, thronging,
Leaping o'er the steeps  of light,
Clad  in glorious , shining garments,
Blood-washed garments, pure and bright.

'Tis a glorious Church , without spot or wrinkle,
Adorned as the Bride of the Lamb,
'Tis a glorious Church without spot or wrinkle,
Adorned as the Bride of the Lamb,

Do you hear the stirring anthems,
Filling all the earth and sky?
'Tis a grand, victorious army,
Lift its banner up on high!

News fear the clouds of sorrow,
Never fear the storms of sin,
We shall triumph on the morrow,
Even now our joys begin.

Wave the banner , should His praises,
For our victory is high !
We shall join our congu'ring  Saviour,
We shall reign with Him on high.

Ten hundred skins, have been mounted upon my flesh

There is so much, I want to say, but where do I begin?
So instead I'll drag a knife across, my fragile, pale skin.

whithersoever thou goeth, Mine pneuma shalt follow.
In the eve where I shalt be, I'll be in the crypt of saint's, a seraphic place, where there's a pinpoint of light to engulf mine glowing face. I shalt leaveth thee an otherworldly trace, where third world grace is placed upon thine head. I shalt be living; not dead. Do not angst nor fret: I'm here mine pet. Followeth the scent of white roses I shalt leaveth thee: the petal's shalt gleam in stream's of everlasting life. Mine soulmate, mine wife, if tomorrow doth not arriveth for me; remember this life's just a passing to ourn eternal loving reality. Dear Jane, mine sweet.



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

At the end of time
The rich man shalt be begging;
And the beggar shalt be
First in line.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets Poetry

i.

What occupies thy soul and being? Worldly knowledge, book's, gold, material thing's; Diamond's, jewelry, ring's, automobile's, weapon's that ****, Poison's that we put into ourn spiritual bodies.

ii.

Where is thy heart? Into plastic, stuck in a casket, pulling apart?
Art thou striving to a life of just surviving, or actually living life;
What cometh first? God, family, friend's, or earthly trend's?

iii.

Whom doth thou serve? The thought's of the devil? The grave and the shovel? Art thou on another level? Or dying to get rich; Living as a slave? Choked in a cave? Giving all, as all the lord gaveth thee.

iv.

What doth thou fearest? Mankind? With bomb's that shineth, and gun's to smoketh? Or thy creator whom hold's the key to life and death, art thou like all the rest laying thy treasure on men's step's? Or in Jehovah's kingdom? The great architect's ringing the doorbell at thy being; ding ****...... Ding ****... Ring. Ring!!!!

Wilt thou let him in?
Or serve the world and men?




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry