I really appreciate all of the poetry
But some of you are way too deep for me
I'm like a deer in headlights
When I read some of your writes
Some even cause my brain to slightly bleed

Of course I wouldn't say I'm surprised
Okay maybe just a bit
But when I order up writes
I prefer mine with fries
And a little something on the side I can sip

So please pardon me my stupidity
As this all plays out on the run
Like I said what I find
With some of your writes
My brain goes into severe deep freeze numb

Cigarettes.
Pills.
Newspaper clippings.
Governmental conspiracy books.
No friends.
No family.
No food.
No water.
Just lying in the dark,
day after day,  
Until your heart gave out.

I have documented proof in the form of bills, bank statements, and autopsy reports that this was what the last years of your life were like.

I now lie awake in the same room where I figure you must have spent all of your time,
looking at the ceiling,
wondering if it was the last thing you saw.


I have felt myself become increasingly anti-social, bitter, violent, cold, paranoid, critical and reclusive over the years,
and I know that if I let myself continue to slip away,
I will end up just like you,
in this same room,
staring at the same ceiling,
with my face that looks just like yours,
with nothing to comfort me except for the fading memories of the love I like to think I once felt.


There were ten thousand books in this house the first time I came to see it,
piled high in every room,
ghosts in the ashes between every page...


I'm scared,
but you were the one who taught me to take pride in the land I live on,
so I will turn it into something beautiful,
and I won't let this place be haunted anymore.

Memories play out flailing limbs
skin and bones reacting
Eyes down, up looking.
I cannot lie or surprise
tiny seeds grow.
Magnificent aroma in deep
across the world of Man.
Bees and butterflies short lived
die for so much less.

This is for the girls who are not skinny enough
and the boys with lack of muscular arms and six packs.
This is for the kids who take a blade to their skin when it gets too hard
and then cry themselves to sleep at 4 am.
This is for the kids who can not sleep without the drugs
and the ones who sleep to forget the reality in which they live in.
This is for the kids whose daddy's ran away
and mommy is working 3 jobs to just buy dinner.
This is for the kids whose parents do not care
and the only thing they give are bruises.
This is for the kids who hate themselves so much
and the ones who are trying to find love.
This is for the teenagers who are doing their best
and the adults trying to find their way in this big world.
This is for everyone who does not hear it
and those who do not believe it.
**You are enough.

totally alone again
but for once,
that's okay--
i needed this time
to just pull away
to reflect and decide
who it is
i really want to be
and to find out too
if you'll even miss
that woman
i used to be...

doesn't really matter tho
for if there
is one certain thing
i most definitely know
it's that no one cares
as much as you think and hope
they do--
and least of all not those
who are the likes of you--

so never mind--
loneliness can be my new name
and all will work out fine
as i learn this new game
and i won't allow my heart
to fall for you
ever again
so keep on hopin'
(if you want)
-but-
*you will NOT win.

this elastic coating
is losing its spring
a sure sign of impending
adventure
where skin cannot go

Glazed faces running fearless in the harvest forest
The brush of the rising crops tingles on the skin
We drop down lying head to head
Following planes with our fingers in the sky.

Your reflection inside mimics my stance outside
Where the smoke from my cigarette
Turns into clouds above my head
Masking the light from the full moon that shines elusively bright.

Distance is crawling between us
Stealing our monumental past
It pollutes our freeness in speech.
Sorrow cant be fixed by ice cream
A day off where i let my mind indulge in far away dreams.

Your voice that was sweet music
Is now NOISE.
I close the bathroom door and wish we were in a book of prose
Where we play faces and turn into toys of mad creation.

i see you again waiting for the man
***** dollar bills crumpled in shaky hands
your veins would collapse if they weren't running sand
high risk life, low demands

unaware with a vacant stare
of your surroundings, like you even care
there's only one reason as to why your here
and it's not to admire yourself in cars passing mirrors

with the man running late the time ticks lunatic fringe
not knowing he's laying dead in some junkies den
the life style he lived finally did him in
and you with no idea soon you'll be following him

because the life of a ****** is no life at all
one step from the ledge with the needles drawl
milk blood to make sure you get it all
one last time before last call...

One asketh the question,
What is this thing called love?
One word I shalt giveth thee......
                                                      ­   SACRIFICE!!!!!!



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Whether it be secrets or lies
She keeps them hidden inside
Miseries and agonies too
She's beside herself
Without the silence,
Too much noise breaks through
Not knowing what else to do
She runs to that place
Where she keeps her silence
Hidden away
It's dark there
And filled with so much pain
But she can never let the silence escape
Too many losses and nothing to gain
Let the tears rain, she can't explain
So, she hides herself in her dreams
With the silence she keeps