Why do I like poetry?
The answer isn't easy.
I've never been good at explaining.
To me, it always seemed so draining.

Well, you see,
Poetry is good to me.
I've never been good at conversation.
I always have too many hesitations.

I can express how I feel.
I am free to be real.
I've never been good at opening up.
My walls are far too thick to touch.

But somehow rhyme,
Puts a hold on time.
And I feel so liberated
And a little less frustrated.

Since I'm impaired in verbal communication,
It seems that poetry has been a useful innovation.
These words are easily writable,
Yet make me feel so much less vulnerable.

Poetry is a passionate way to express emotion,
Without causing chaos and commotion.
You can interpret poetry whatever way,
You feel most like this particular day.

Poetry is liberation
Free from condemnation
Poetry rids life
Of all its strife

Proposals of intermediance, pearls to girls of sunshined radiance, playful tactics ruin the feeble mind, where states are select best of roast, biggest of all checks!
Pay it forward uropian mix-match of everything best!! Keefe pebbles to match rebels on machines called J-Pay, some get out early, retreaters and women beaters in their cages must they stay!!
What a day when all will be one, to not muse and pretend that were dumb, but to realize where and what we are!!!
Fast lives,
Fast cars,
Doth thou have all that thou needest yet?
Hath thou gotten old?
Didst we forget?
Remedic comforters,
Strategic Plunderer's of downfall Capitols!!!
Quotas you cannot meet if your presidents of Debauchery's height!!!
Thy ancient falcon,
Timeless pitching,
Your a runner in thy night!!

Neuraligias numbing stretches the tied suit evils,
Lorn away,
Away,
And away!!!!

Lingual we are when the lights call you for action!!!!!!!

To tired for innocent play?

See,
In this place I call a home,
There's woods to surround with fences!
Theirs a park next door with benches,

Where the joggees love to sit!!!

They run past you,
Gadgit in hand,
Filled with spit,
Their clueless to ending times!!

Cops patheth by,
They see a criminal,
A hippy,
A free spirit wandering to their distaste,
A slap in the face to any color alike!!!!

Back to the bikes,

They ride and bleed,
They run in fear,
Thinking,
They want to escape this little town as me,
Infested by ***** deed,
They sit at main streets bar!!!

With hearts enlarged,
Dying for one ****!
Dying in filth_
Corrupted by muck!

They wear high school tee-shirts?
Still child are they?
Wear their pride of their ******,
Rich by mother and daddies stay!!!

Blasphemers to god,
Dejected by men!
Haters of kin,
As thy neighbors are nosy!!!

Classless, and showy!!!

An ice cream shop for all old like to gather,
A casino to smother your greedy dollar in thine machine!!

Slot addictions..
No restrictions to their penny pinching control,

Giveth all to thine council,
Vote a mayor for pound trolls,

See this town can make one mad!!!
A never ending nightmare
Of thine good and thy bad!!!

I want to giveth one mine soul,
                                                       Yet the world is void in spirit!!!/

Men, when thineself findeth a woman, treat her as a queen,
Not a memory on paper,
Not a material,

See her inside wherein the treasure of god is stored up,
For her inside is a bible amongst the heavens,
Listeneth to her_
Lavish her,
Giveth comfort when she's wearied!!

And queens,
Dost thou heareth me!?

Treat your men as kings,
Waddle him with thy love , not things!!!!!!
For a man cannot be bought by fast food,
If so,
The wrong man he is for thee to.

Connect souls to one another,
Yes thou men and thy women,
Make everyday a thanksgiving,

For thy love was endowed by thy creator!!!!!!


As for me,  and mine love
I remind her daily
She is a queen and best friend and mi amour to me.
Because I don't taketh mine days for granite none more....


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

She loads pockets with cheapened Walmart goods,
Her words misunderstood,
As she babbles on strong drink!

Puke in her sink,
Yes that's a daily thing!!

Wrapped in thine sling young one of cheaply treasures?
For thy worse could be better,
If you wrote  down all your thoughts!!!
For thy love cannot be bought,
But dropped in fukashima form!!!

Thief in store..

Though I have robbed too,
For I am like you,
When the rain comes tumbling down...

In day she goes by her real name,
At night alls untamed,
Unmanaged,
Unsellable.

High to vegetative state..

Her stage she cannot be late,
Though not by choice doth she choose,
Born to win,
Dying to sin in a room of sparkled lights,
An lapdancing tools!!!!

These men await as demons to their devil,
They sit with *** in hand and puddles,
Of ***** smelling zippers..

***** things grow bigger!!!

Shh,
I cannot speak of such things,
Their madmen just for a fling,
As thine wives wait back at palace!!
Disguistingness impassionate!

Shes always thinking for her night to end,
As the lusters throw out ones!!!
They creep and and they shun,
Non containment there!

****** fluids shall they do dare,
Than the night goes silent death,

Upon her breathe,
*******,
Secretion daint by stains,
Those crawlers seem to have left her!!!

For theirs a church around thine corner,

She quits,
And repents Soo quickingly...

Poetry by Pablo Neruda is something I was just forced to read,
for english class,
and maybe I could enjoy his poem,
called Poetry,
if the soul less bodies around,
could mindlessly stop! saying;
"this is pointless,"
"his poem is about poetry because of the title,"
"his poem has no meaning,"
and If I could focus,
I would of known the meaning,
or at least found meaning in it,
besides the one my stupid classmates found,
"just another ****** forced assignment"
"we will never get the meaning of"
but I know the meaning of his poem now,
"It was about the struggle to write,
and understand poetry to start with,"
and in a room full of people,
who don't get poetry,
maybe they could of gotten something from this lesson,
but, "we will never get the meaning of a forced assignment,"

My film class,
Is my favorite class

and the class I hate the most,

I love film,
I have a passion for this art,

this medium,

this class is my soul and bodies passion,
and like a job,

like my job,

it fits me,
but like all jobs,

there's things that just ******* ****.

and it's not over the normal things,
like time and money,

its the people you work with,

or in my case,
my class,

and they are all *****,

when someone makes it their point,
to upset you and hurt you everyday,

because finally you are good at something,

when you **** at science,
and allowed your math skills to fall behind,

your life is filled with lies and you find,

a reason to live,
worth all your effort and time

but the same people calling you stupid and dumb and a **** up,

in math and science,
are in this film class,

forced to take a smile,

and sarcastically say,
"good job,"

when your film gets played in class,

and even when you ask,
no one give you advice like you give when asked,

and every frame seen on the projected screen,

gives me anxiety,
and the rude, unhelpful reminders from my bullies,

don't ******* help me,

when I want to run out of my favorite class daily,
and scream  in all their faces,

"*******"

"for once..."
but I don't

I sit,

I bit skin off skinless lips,
hold back tears,

the urge to leave,

take all my insults
that are directed at me,

with a head tilted down fake half smile,

when they should be directed to my film,
but everyday, I do get to say;

*******,

because this year,
I make it to all my classes,

even the next one,

history.
period 11/12

with my dignity