i.

Gracefully,
She tastefully-
Amazingly,
Loveth me;

ii.

Thankfully,
I'm blatantly,
Her king of
Dream's, wherein
Sparkles gleam,
And satellite
Ring's; maketh
Babies from me
And her's trail.

iii.

Europeasian braille,
For the sightless, europosia;
We teacheth those without hearing to heareth,
meladrona to those that fear, to be fearless, and bestride the pinnacle of perheava.

iv.

Blithe of the era-
That's never ending;
Eternal, amour
Unbending.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)

You wouldn't welsh on a bet with your ******,
And you wouldn't go to bed with the mob.
You wouldn't mess with a street gang ****,
No matter if he's crab, or slob.

You wouldn't backstab a man on death row,
Cause you know he just might **** ya.
If you've got the gumption.
You wouldn't have it long,
If you cross Evil Nurse Sheila.

You shouldn't be like the fool who tried
To play games with her heart.
She left him a crushed, empty man.
Well, he was doomed from the start.

Sheila isn't a ******,
And you'd better not let her hear
You snickering about her at the social club.
You might not have time to fear.

Sheila's makes the headlines
Each time she tries to settle down.
She plans to live a carefree life,
But soon she has to leave town.

Everything she does
Is warped, but in the name of love.
Except when she hates your guts,
When it's Sheila you've run afoul of.

If you've never heard her story.
You'd best take this advise.
If you cross her path just keep walking,
You best not look back twice.

Evil Nurse Sheila's got a heart of stone
That looks like a heart of gold.
If you are responsible for it's tarnish,
There's no hope to which you can hold.

Sheila takes no prisoners.
She don't take any guff.
If she thinks to give you a warning,
You'd better not call her bluff.

You wouldn't want to rouse her wrath,
Because her fury won't be tamed.
She's restless, bold and beautiful.
She cannot be contained.

It seems things have been quiet.
She's been off the grid some time.
If she thinks that you might suspect her,
You may be her next crime.

i.

Forby thou art not,
I quiver from the
Cold; mine heart
Is running rapid,
There's anguish
In mine soul.

ii.

I wail out of mine
Bones, mine grave
Is looking close, I
Implore for thee,
Mine Jane, mine
Sweet. I implore
One day, thy eye's
I'll meet.

iii.

On the emptied
Street's of purgatory,
Mine sandal's art worn;
I beseech for just one kiss,
But there's nothing, mine heart doth burn.

iv.

Though through these trial's
And Tribulation's, I shalt
Hath patience; whilst I
Get bitten, by the demon's
I have been smitten. Ourn
Affamour shalt break down
Door's, wherein hell shalt
Shatter, we shalt reach the
Shores, O' I plore for thou.

v.

Mine eyeball's art sinking in, is this death somehow?
Mine body and limbs now doth trow; it's weathering
Away, I'm hanging on tight; I prayest thou canst saveth
Me, by the end of the night. And queen if I goeth, please
Knoweth mine amulet belongeth to thee, I wilt forever
Looketh down, upon thine crown, mine empress; mine
Queen.



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

Politicians continually pick at the festering boil of government bureaucracy with filthy hands yet shrug their shoulders in disbelief
as to why the country refuses to heal ..

By Arcassin Burnham


I'm sorry,
I'm trying,
To make it right,
And all your tears can put out fires,
Lets spark a light,
Ive got nothing to run back to,
So isolated,
Choose to hate,  or can you choose,
Lost in translation,

Why do you take things to heart    in this life,
Why do you take things so personal,
I watched your heart melt
in my hands,
Now personalities getting very comical,
And still,
And still,
You take things so personal,
And still,
And still,
You use to be sensual.

When the day was dying
I was back to the market.

The last time I was there
haggled with her over the price.

She wanted to sell high
I wanted to buy low.

You win she said at last
I bought high
but have to sell low.

I knew she was lying.

This time she wasn't there.

Someone said
her man had left for another woman
and she hadn't since been seen.

The deepening evening hung like a dagger of pain.

She was never good at bargain.

~~
my world, my womb
unconditioned but air conditioned
too many frequencies make fusions
many more intuitions gathered a lot intentions
grew great confusions

my womb, my world
the ultimate heaven that proven the sense of love
that belongs spring that sprung
my mother's face
that certainly traced a weird tune which grew red rashes,
scratches on my mother lower abdomen  

I'm just eight months old
and my skin getting cold,
Even I could not told to my mother what I gather in the womb  
If I make the images zoom and
if somehow her rose will bloom
which only gain,
a huge pain that could not share or even bare
the world that never care
to my mother

where there is my womb, my world
and I'm only eight months old,
getting cold,
too cold...
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen