It's gonna be okay, it's just rain.
Because i don't want to get wet.
I always keep dry under my umbrella.

Anonymous. 12/14/2015.
©2015 Trevon S. Haywood.

His calloused hands caressed the wood that, shortly, he would plane.
The carpenter was on his knees examining the grain.
The Romans wanted cross beams and the carpenter knew why:
Upon this tree the rebel, Jesus, would be crucified.

He’d never heard the rabbi speak to the admiring crowds.
He thought himself too practical to go in search of God.
In the temple he made sacrifice; he conformed and he complied.
He’d seen too many mad for God and noted how they’d died.

The carpenter thought it was a shame; this wood too good you see.
It’s a tragic waste of good timber to make a hanging tree.
Still the money came in handy as good wine was still not free.
Galled wine would be served in a sponge to this man from Galilee.

The crowd called for Barabbas when this Jesus was condemned.
He shuddered as he thought of the cruel way this life would end.
There is no dignity he could see in a death upon a cross;
mocked by the onlookers while his women wailed his loss.

The Roman paid him coin and slaves bore the beam away.
The sad procession passed his shop later that same day.
The Rabbi wore a crown of thorns, fashioned from the jujube,
and there, upon his shoulders. He bore the hanging tree.

When my Creator calls me home , carve my marker from sandstone , for I was many different grains of sand pressured into one ... Fear , guilt and myriad troubled times combined with periods of love , sweet dreams and a restless desire to solve life's role on a forever changing stage ...When my days are done , tell the people that may inquire that I was a musician , a blue note with infinite combinations , sad , inquisitive calls followed by tri -tone answers and chord progressions ....Twenty years after my death tell a friend that I was a poet , submitting my mindset for the world to critique , sharing my thoughts in the name of peace .......

I want to care for you,
But now the line is starting to blur,
Lust is overpowering me,
I can't hold back,
I don't think I can help myself,
I care and love you more than anyone will,
And all I want is the taste of your lips again.

I take deep breaths

And plan a ******

To **** the bird that flew

Over the crow's nest


On a summer night

I feel the warmth

Of the day not yet done

The sound of laughter

Is all around me

This is cool- I say


I find myself lying on a surgery table

Holding an apple in my hand

I throw it against the floor

And landing there

It bursts into a million

Children of my mind

Spreading into every

Country on the planet

I am the new master

As my children grow and grow

Still in rags I speak

And throw my thoughts into a bin

Their work is finished you see


Still the sound of laughter

Carries on around me

Living is easy

With your head

In the clouds


I saw- and still I hear

The giggles and noises

Of delightful romances being

Born

These should be mine

But they are not mine

Such things are little more than

Mist or whispers

Promises not yet realised

My children sympathise

And bringing me a woman

To sit with me in the tall grass

Together we shall

Plan a life instead

She writeth mellifluous calligraphy
When she speaketh in her mother tongue;
She's ineffable, irresistible,
Tis, she's mine chosen one.
                                                Her kaleidoscopic ambience
pirouettes around mine being, heaven's own, the most beautiful soul; O' how I'm blessed with this queen.

Supine I layeth, looking aloft mine glimpse, a brightness flashed, in Asian sash, turtle shell's around her hips.

At that moment, I hadst an epiphany, I was finally living, to God I owed thanksgiving, for this archangel he hadst sent to me.



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

I want to escape from my sadness
It's taking over me
Why can't I just rest?
Why won't it let me be?
I just want to be free.
Some call it crazy
Some say it's sick
But I think it's freedom.
The blade is sharp and cold.
Sorry my vein.
Even my mother does not know me
She only sees who she wants to see.
Cut my arm,
Is the only way to escape.
Do they realize their actions affect me so?
I don't know..  I don't know...
If I told you why I did it,
you would not understand.
who would even care if I died?
no one!

Your body, your mind, heart and soul,
All combined, set a goal
To start today; no better time
If you really want this
You need to strive. Work for your goals,
Work as hard as you can
Staying focused, you need a plan

You're pushed to your limits;
That's what you think. You can reach it,
You just need to believe.
Believe in yourself, have some faith,
I know it's not easy
Make no mistake, comes from within
This new strength you shall find,
Conquer your goals, body and mind.



© Karen L Hamilton, 2013

Dear God
Look at it
Up there
No hand made device
Could possibly compare
No building can truly overcome it
The sky the sky
Such a thing
Just a glance at it
And
I feel it stareing into me
I feel it grasping at my soul
Feed me small creature
It bellows it roars
Oh god
Is this what it's like to be high.