i wish i could bundle up
all of my happy
and all of my wishes

every single
tiny little
smile i ever had

tie it up with hugs
wrap it up in kisses
and send it to you

to make you feel
not sad

I doubt it will be a game changer
such originality no one else thinks this way
but its good the white horses are back riding the sea
after being stabled for so long
the flat calm mill pond could not last
that glassy mirror full of sedate shining stars
I guess with a change of weather comes a changing of minds
When the harvest is in men traditionally go to war
too much time on their hands some say
and an unquenchable thirst to go ride the waves.

my actress, who
sweated blood on Broadway each night
off Broadway too

said, on a long stroll
through Central Park. she was successful
because she did not like herself

on the stage, she proclaimed,
she was never herself, and she fell in love
with every character she portrayed  

every script was a better bio
than her own, and the playwrights knew
her better than she knew herself

and when our walk
was curtailed by a downpour, she dragged me
into a crowded cafe

where she knew half the patrons
and the wait staff, and they all knew the different
personas she had owned, on the dry stage

rain now forced her to choose  
which selves to keep, and which to lose
while she sipped scalding tea

with me, on a grey wet afternoon,
only hours before she would again be under  
the spell of the hot lights,

and read verses from the pens of prophets,
poets--those who purloined her soul for the price
of admission, to a place without self loathing

i.

Behold mine Jane
Behold;

ii.

The star's and the rain
As us doth come
And go.

iii.

Though in the amount
Of hour's left; I shalt blow
Mine breath, into thy
Soul.

iv.

Home sweet home,
I am with thee; verily
Mine queen, I've been
Sickly.

v.

Trapped in this bed-
Spirit burdened, many
Demon's hate this light
That God hath started.

vi.

They do mark me
With their reptilian nails;
Though one day all
Their evil shalt fail.

vii.

And whilst I fight, I won't give in,
Mine glow doth shine, betwixt many men;
As ourn Creator bought us as one in him,
Soulmates, best friends, this heart doth yearn.

viii.

O' this heart doth yearn, a fervent burn,
Awaiting for thy buss of roses, sweet, serenading;
Creating heavenly poses.

ix.

On the right Christ
On the left side Moses; none losing focus,
With the mountain scented view.

x.

None goodbye's, but to say
I do; a place always new;
As loving wilt be the
Highest command.

xi.

We'll bury ourn worries
In the ocean sand's; as
Thou shalt take mine hand,
With seraphim to be ourn
Witnesses.

xii.

Catch mine breath
And touch mine
Kisses.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedicated( agapi mou )

I could swim in your oceanic eyes;
But when you give me that look
You lay dynamite on my iron skin
And you open me like a wound:

Spirit of fire that burns
Like a blade of sunlight
I sacrifice myself as I die
Into you, you ancient name of fire;

And your temper between the jaws
In the abstract geometry you propose
Lays me in an impassive torture
And you load ghosts of yesterday
Into Tomorrowland,
My cry and the cries of the torturer.

Be it the first dawn,
The last dawn,
We are bigger than the night
But the dream of us fits on the bed,
The bed of rain,
The bed of storms,
The liquidity of our bodies
As the moon wakes and asks
For our spirituality,
Souls entwined, we tear the night apart;

But we aren't always in the mood
At the same time,
Vehement bodies on invisible clocks
We can't see ticking,
You speak in Winter,
I speak in Summer;
Our words vanish like
Syllables of vertigo;
We are lost between the argument.

For all the good and the bad
I would make love with you
At the precipice,
Hanging at the cliff;
To fall in love or fall to our death,
Each is a timeless matter
And through it all I
Know that I am alive between
The polar shifts.

My avid gaze
spoke to the rosary
of your flesh

My heartsick tremors
marked me as a wanted man
and burned the villages
of my ancestors

I was a refugee
from time
a friend to no man

My tears washed the blood
from my hands
my eyes withered
the tender bud

So when did I read poetry
on your lips?

Did your mountains fracture
and disintegrate into
sparkling shards
as mine did?

Was the moon an egg
in your basket
as it was in mine?

Little do we know
of the other
when first we clasp hands
and agree

In time
and with luck
we learn.

We're all idiot fish in a barrel
Jumping into the air to watch the bullets
**** by our fins and hoping the
Strike doesn't hit but misses

And kisses the outskirt of our barrel.

The water is draining fast
And we struggle in all the odds
Against each other and try to get to the
Bottom where there's more water

But we're all gonna die anyways.

So we push each type of fish at each other and smother the others in blood
Of their brothers and don't do anything
Until one of the fish jumps out of our home

And right at the man cleaning the barrel of the gun.

Was it fun watching us unfairly die
While you are doing nothing
With our dying folk
But watching us perish.

You're a real jittery man I bet.

But as bullets fly by the fish we
Demand to run arrogant politicians to
Calm our gills and ask into our feels


But it doesn't matter anyway.

We're all idiot fish in the barrel fighting each other while someone pops holes
In our walls and allows the oxygen in.

We'll all die anyways.

there was a
dream here
once,
it came in
        via the
rain,
fed crops,
     livestock, us,
but at dawn it
had gone,
    taken the
bus to
somewhere
it could belong,
somewhere
         made of
sturdier stuff.
I imagine
     it rolling itself
up into
             the dust,
         coating the
backs of tongues,
speaking a
        language so
different to my
own, I imagine
it finally feels
like home.