You’re my favorite word.
And I could take you in endless combinations
Letters lining your spine like a poem you read as a child
The one where you had felt love for the first time
But had forgotten that this is what it sounded like.
You are like medicine
That I didn’t know I needed but needed.
Your warmth is like the summer air.
And I think you taste like the rain in the moonlight.

This poem has the shape of a mirror,
       The mirror has your face:
  Quick sculptures emerge from the mind,
With grace of fountains it spills,
         Waters of memory
Buried deep in a stormy sky,
     Hexahedrons of every moment
Form a cage of infinite faces,
           I cannot look away.
I sink into the many sided eyes,
        The apparitions of making love,
This poem is your world imperceptibly
          Populating the prisms of my heart,
    The empty rooms grow more
And more secluded,
       I am petrified into your mind,
Your body of light blinding,
   Thick drops of ink bleed from me,
    Final cigarette
Where the dawn comes to haunt,
      A laughter
Like a foliage of sounds
     In the meadow of us,
But you are everywhere
    And not here with me,
I write a passionate calligraphy
    On the dark corridors of the soul,
You are manifest lasting as long
     As these words of shrapnel
Travel the echoes of the polyhedra.

One hari, and his Reyna
Riding the chariot of
The otherworldly;



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

i.

Alow downward Reyna, humanity hunger's and ****'s,
Red liquid they do spill, despoiling, toiling, taking
Lucifer's fill;

ii.

We canst only watcheth queen, as their working's and dream's,
Get untied by the string's, of the fine unseen line, of the principalities and power's.

iii.

Henceforth the hour's, shalt be as fading flower's, they shalt seeith their government's and darkened power's; falleth as the star's, men who knoweth none boundaries, God shalt rattle the mountain's and deep, as a harlot to her patron. Though the patron's sleep.

iv.

We shalt endureth this paining moment amour', the cosmic chronograph is opening door's; erelong love, erelong amour', we shalt sit at a feasting table, wherein the beau monde that hast Satan's barcoded label, shalt not perch. The flame shalt quench it's thirst, as recreation below us takes it's course. For ourn creator spoke this Jane, in the beginning. The world's lost it's way, it needeth cleansing from the sinning. As we shalt be restored by reconnecting on higher planes. To be reborn, in the spirit again.



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

Pardie, mine is thine, parfay in
Mine siesta; I hadst a sweven of
Tender refine. We art perantique
To the temporal, sacrosanct we
Art, divinity's temple's. Patration
Hath been acknowledged, by the
Guardian's of the extrasolar, as doth
Me and thine beauty amour', lieth in
The eye's of ourn beholder.


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

To the warmth of life
And passing through with grace
Of a woman in hand under veil,
Lavished in her unconquered beauty,
Enamored with her saving grace
Amid the elation of first kiss,
Under the spell of first eternity.

And through the veils of silence
When the swarm of sounds of
Making love have devoured the hours
And he stares into fertile eyes,
The truth of his belief in them,
And the prelude to forever's nest,
The dove returns upon white unifications.

But soon the dove will deny the embrace,
And the cold lonesome dove
Will be forgotten in the skies blue,
The touch of ****** prowess ,
The soft moist of lips that convened
A destiny of adornment with kisses
So deep and meaningful that it vibrates
Through times like a phantom flame
From forever's fire,
The bitter flight of the dove with passion
To ravage her body,
Upon the return open does the veil.

Before passion abandons,
Let them return home to nest
The kisses from that eternal night,
That journey for the taste your
Of your sanguinary fruit
Provoking the eternal flight.

Before her lips close at the dove's
Return, lift the veil of forever
On the romantical threshold,
The death and purity,
The light and the venom,
What white veils may hide.

This isn't a poem, just a letter for anyone who cares of the poetess Nicole dawn... Whether you know her or not, she wrote a simple poem yet saddening titled- ( goodbye) all the poem said is " I'm done" ... So for any one who has read this please try messaging her, and support her.. There's another poet, human being. And more importantly a soul's life on the line.. And I see this daily.. Not just with miss dawn but with so many other poet's, who aren't just writing what other poet's consider "depressing poetry". Simply its a suicide note.. Yet others didn't seem to know this. And others may see poems like that daily.. But instead of skipping the poem, remember half of you who were down and out and lonely at one time , and maby suicide even crossed your mind. Wouldn't you want someone there? Some may say no, only due to the fact misery speaks that to one, and demons are good at tempting people to not want to live anymore, though fact is even those that say no I wouldn't want help, NONSENSE!!! we're all soul's, we cry out. We laugh, we love, many cry, some hurt. Some are tortured by very real demons ( not just something in ones head or in stories ) this is reality what's going on.. So instead of passing the next poem you read saying ( goodbye) how about messaging the person saying that, and put aside your issues for the day, and give your self to another.. And your time to them for one second, love is the answer. Not selfishness, not wantonness, not greed. Or all about us. It's about that person's poem you read ( goodbye) the soul you passed by. The poet, a poet like you. That you passed by.... Please give Nicole dawns poem a look. And message her. Because surely, any dying soul would respect and maby still be alive from your message... Thanks for reading, and btw, God wants us to help another, listen to another,love another... Not ****** another with words, or hatred, or envying, or back talking. We can choose to help another, which helps your soul, or we can burden our own souls, and turn away from another soul, that could be you...

God bless,
Brandon Nagley

i.

O'er the the Almighty's siege-
A baetyl soared, betwixt the
Floor's, of aqua green; swith
I was fixed, upon her wing's.

ii.

O' this queen-struck me, with
Her baculus, conducting, a calefacient
calix, thus the welkin carved the omnipresent
Out from me and Jane's pinion's.

iii.

Camaca Atman's, coursing
The future together; sacchariferous
Of the celestial, making love, mating-
Doves, bygone messenger's, sending
An amour' letter.



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

I bury my face in the pillow
While the pillow smothers my dreams
And my dreams devour my heart
But none of this can be seen
When it's covered by my sheets