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 Oct 2015
GaryFairy
this road is weathered
but where one road ends, another starts
crossroads are measured
by the sign posts of wrong turn hearts

caution lights
the stop signs
bridge out
bumps ahead
highways divided
it's gridlock

another dead end street
and there's no u-turns

that street was better
until it came time for us to merge
a do not enter
detours where two hearts converge
 Oct 2015
A Lopez
Started at my belly as I
Slithered between your naval
Down through your legs,
I got stuck
I stopped
My tongue did the rest.
 Oct 2015
brandon nagley
Tis funny
Is it not?
How us mad poets can splurge one minute on how wonderful
Our life is,
And the next we canst wait to die!!!
Silly poets we are indeed!!
What a life!!

Its as if we're all a bunch of manic depressive bipolar's/******'s in one mad yet beautiful symphony!!!
 Oct 2015
Sally A Bayan
Embers (2).  
  

Can't talk, can't swallow...
there's a block somewhere
i turn to the other side
new fields.....unknown skies
make hands and mind, busy with new chores...new projects
learn to breathe slow...in a rhythmic flow

eyes look up...trying to find my kite among those, flying high,
with a begging glimpse...sent with prayers

the hours go by...so...very...slow
a distraction is most welcome
while waiting, for things to work out on their own.  
while...waiting...
trying to be feisty...determined...in exerting efforts
to cleanse a steamy, foggy mind..intoxicated
with highfalutin truths, and plans that come...and go
they surface....then hide....they confuse
affecting those innocent: one, two, three...even more...

deep within are demons that struggle
to overcome each other...
....dancing with the flame...
so untamed
so alive
soaring inside
not at all like embers dying,
they're all fired up, sharp-edged...hurting
singe-ing innards
ahh...still can't breathe...it burns inwards
possessing throat and voice...can't speak
slowly, the airs turn bleak

how i so want to shout to the Heavens
just this once, to beg...for my own manna
to ask for more fresh air
make sure patience never wanes
to bake and strengthen under the hot sun,
the tiles and stones of my concrete wall
i ask for more beams and rays...i don't want to fall
i ask.......for red-orange embers
.......to permanently brighten
my charcoal-black skies...



Sally


Copyright October 9, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Oct 2015
brandon nagley
i.

Last eve', whilst mine Filipino rose
Was falling deep into her slumber;
I started to doze off, into hypnagogic state
I wasn't sleeping, nor was I fully awake.

ii.

In the midst of this hallucinatory reality
I couldst discern a tender mild voice, betwixt this actuality;
The strong yet forward word's spoke as this to me
Brandon, "doth thou want to cometh home to JESUS CHRIST" ?

iii.

As tis the word's JESUS CHRIST were in italic bold font
From the way it was saidst, it was sung as an angel wouldst singeth his name up in heaven; someone, not knowing whom, asked if I wanted to cometh home, was this an angel, or a dream?

iv.

Ive hadst encounter's with demonic being's daily, as tis I've had angelic encounter's as well, wouldst twenty seven be mine last;
As I've thought of this a many whilst's, as tis every musician of mine I've loved died at this age, as two plus seven equal's nine.

v.

Nine, mine favorite number, mine sport's digit always chosen as a boy, nine, the number meaning completion in all religion's;
The figure representing the completion of life's own cycle, as tis so many star's completed their journey at 27, was I being called?

Ivi.

Didst someone asketh me to cometh home? Back where I belong? To the star's? To God's son? Number's alway's meaneth something; in mine bible, in all religion's, in all thing's, as tis angel's speaketh in front of thee or in dream's, was that mine angel? Calling me?
True story... While between sleep and awake while watching Jane sleep last evening, the words loud yet soft spoken said to me
( Brandon, do you wanna come home? Or are you ready to come home but I think first thing I said... Lol then after the words do you wanna come home.... In a singing different angelic song they sung... TO JESUS CHRIST!!!! Wowww that woke me up from mine intermediate sleep loll umm honestly not ready to go back yet yes do wanna be in heaven now and escape this horrible world.. But I have so much more to change about me and help more people out and do stuff with mine queen Jane like meeting her so definitely not ready yet though as anyone should know... It's not up to us when we wanna go back home always or die... As our dear poet Ernest knew .. When God wants us he takes us plain and simple.... I know even when I get into that cycle of sleep when happens every soo often even stuff like that doesn't happen... I deeply believe one of mine protectors whether a family member or an angel most likely one or the other asked me last night that question in mine sleep.. Then that singing came in angelic and I was awake after lolll so yeah... Always pay ATTN.. as angels and demons more than exist.. Demons I
especially know much about being literally ( physically attacked) by them daily...  For those who wanna scoff and mock really don't care I've shown Jane this while talking with her one minute next I'll show her fresh scratch big and long on mine body! Or wherever they scratch... It's a constant thing... Why you ask? Demons hate hate hate see anything to do with Christ and Christs father... Especially Christ.. Though I sage mine house alot as does !mum.. And pray alot for Christ to make them go then they always leave.. They hate hearing his name.. They don't care to hear any other name that you might call on.. Noone else will protect you.. But they know Christ is the only one.. The PROTECTOR!!! And hate it when you say his name then they leave.... Thanks for reading..
hypnagogic state- means the place between sleep and wake.. Like paralysis in a way...
Bootleggers on Sunday evening  ,  a little pink house on Kelleytown Road !  Waiting by the cattle gate , taking money  , calling back to the house via radio ! Waving customers through , one by one , driving by the shack without braking once , trunk wide open , in goes the whiskey , slammed shut , out the back gate , and off they went !  Sheriff Donald didn't seem to have a clue , alcohol sales on late Sunday afternoons ? For forty odd years this house became a legend , Councilmen , Deputies and Mayors knew of it's existence ! Cars from distant counties all over the state , flying up dirt roads leaving dust in their wake ! It was surely without doubt , the entire county convinced that the Sheriff drew a months salary on Sunday evenings !
Copyright October 10 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Oct 2015
brandon nagley
i.

A king and queen
Of faraway;
Tis ourn story
Ourn unique Creme Brulee.

ii.

We shalt not repose
Inside ourn grave's;
We'll be exposed
In united sage.

iii.

No sadness here
Or fist's of rage;
Man shalt not enter
Past ourn lover's gate.

iv.

This is ourn stay
A manner estate;
With her tawny skin
Upon mine body's plate.

v.

We shalt be early
As there's no time;
No time for late
This is ourn party, life and love, everlasting place.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry ( Hari-reyna incorporated)
©Earl Jane nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
 Oct 2015
brandon nagley
I thought it was
Mine heart
Beating in mine chest;
Yet found out
It was mine Queen's beat
As mine and her's
We're the same

Pulsing in melodic rhythm.......



©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley Filipino rose
 Oct 2015
beth fwoah dream
you were the last
bird of summer

the golds of the
sun melted as you flew

wrapped to an oak-washed
sky, that slowly unravelled

you were my love
and i loved you with every

soft breath of my soul.
 Oct 2015
brandon nagley
She knoweth what I'm going to sayest
Before I sayest it;

She understandeth mine heart and pain
Before mine blood displayeth it;

She layeth me to sleep
When I get sleepy;

She layeth her head virtually upon mine chest
When I'm in weeping;

She Whisper's she loveth me
Before I canst speaketh it back;

When I'm on the wrong road, losing direction to mine soul,
Her and God get me back on track;

When I feeleth lonesome
She filleth up that lonesomeness;

When the anguish get's noisome
She giveth me her all, her best.

Earl Jane nagley is mine soulmate
Tis I'm more than blessed;

We art both preordained, from the beginning, eternal flame's
We art life, life is us, we art soulmates.
Indeed......

We art soulmates!!!


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose) soulmate of mine
©Hari and Reyna incorporated
 Oct 2015
brandon nagley
Jane
Mine existence;
Jane
Mine quintessence;
Jane
Mine crème de la crème;
Jane
Thy name is the most incorporeal;
Jane
Mine ticker tick tock's, as a clock: time eternal.
Jane
I yearn for thee;
Jane
I don't deserveth thee;
Jane
I'm on mine knee's;
Jane
I'm begging please
Jane
I'm beseeching thee;
To cometh closer
Layeth thy head down
Upon mine chest
Falleth asleep
With me.
Jane,
I loveth thee.
Jane
Mine soulmate;
Jane
O' dearest love
O' dearest love.
O' how whole I am with thee
Mine dove.
O' dearest Jane.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry\ Hari-Reyna incorporated
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
 Oct 2015
Mysterious Aries
It's hard for me that my muse be gone
Someone whom I dear, a special one
From your notes I have read, things that you wanted to do
Truly mister regrets imprison you

Girl you know, we both fear someone
And still kinda no bullet in our gun
I know how hard for you to keep
A pain that hurts, even when you sleep

Babe, I am also wounded when you felt pain
When you feel you can't stand, we feel the same
So if ever you want to be free, I'll let you go
But please will you please, don't wish me to forget everything

But if ever you want to know, what's inside my thoughts
I'll be quite straight "I want us to go on, my dear"
But simply decisions are up to you
To show you how much I care
To let you know how much I love you

My girl I'm quite strange
I won't ask you, I know we felt the same
We both fear the tracks of time
The days left us one by one

So I've asked myself, why I still love to stay
I've asked the sun, why he loves to remain that way
But the answer girl is quite simply
There's something only love can do
There's something only love can do....


written: April 9, 2001

Mysterious Aries
Piece that I've given to someone special then....
To a girl name DAPHNE JOY...
A young lady sashays across the kitchen floor .. Displaying a stunning , red Ball gown , beaming , contrarily to an fro , eager for a compliment from a proud seamstress . A fidgety young boy ,  hand -me -down jacket with slacks being tailored , patches cut , hand sewn at worn out knees ..Darning Papas socks , repairing a tablecloth , custom curtains ,  flour sacks made into napkins , aprons , quilts  and handkerchiefs . A wicker box that belonged to very gifted hands indeed
Copyright September 25 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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