The brilliant idea you've been
waiting for expired
a moment after someone else thought
it. Implementing emptiness
has become your forte and scavenging for
adrenaline
within the souls of second hand tennis shoes
is representative of stability in your crooked,
unbalanced way, when
you glean nothing but
past tense grammar
on any given day of your actual life.

There's no grand story here. Go somewhere else.

And you can't even paint a sympathetic
portrait
of your dry and chaffed lips, of purple ink
stains beneath eyes, of words unattainable
stuck around your gums,
because the guy over there painting an unequivocal
masterpiece is homeless and
utilizing dirt to make a rainbow with
seven more colors than
your store bought acrylics ever could.

Pity is
stupid
when you've got everything
but that

Modern day slavery, hath manacled man's hand's and feet. Chained, tied, blindfolded, leading to one's demise. It cometh by many form's; pride, envy, wrath, gluttony, lust, sloth, and greed. Thus a free willed decision, with Lucifer making rich men affluent; wealthy they've become, off bomb's, secret societal seed. Thieve's of tribal territorie's, madmen of brutal glory!!!
Mind control ruler's, martial law suiter's, polluter's of land gone to waste. O' prosperous creature, what hath thou done? Tooketh holy scripture's of God from public schooling's, passing out satanic fooling's; becoming puppet's for Beelzebub? Suicide's, sky high, as parent's, thou hath left thine son's. At the bar? Bellie's enlarged: isn't that smoke and drink enough? Got the good stuff? High on bag's of dust? Wife at home? Cheating stealthy mode, and thou wondereth why it's thee who shalt succumb!!!! The terra firma hath turned wretched, stenched by the elite's Gucci cover, whilst the world killeth one another, on war's to maketh money off of the deaf, dumb, and blind; awakest, now's the time ....................Global collapse, it's just around the corner mine friend's.......



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Two thousand fifteen
America and worldly collapse;
Awaketh from thine slumber
BE DONE WITH THINE NAP.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Daily why try more for college when all it does
Is bankrupt me.
New school reality

It seems that I made a mistake
Nothing new there, then
You never received the myriad of messages
That I poured out to you
So how could you have known where I was
How could you know that I was in your town
Or when and where
And so I saw all but saw nothing
Please forgive me
I became so empty and cold
And lost for anything to hold
When I thought that it was over
Please stay with me

                       By Phil Roberts

i.

Mine Waling-Waling
If mine existence soon doth leaveth;
Mine psalm's art left here on Hello Poetry
In thine Palm's they shalt speaketh.

ii.

If this shalt be the ******
Mine rhyme's in thee;
Shalt be entwined
Into thy mind, I will meeteth thee in heaven's gate nine, the back.

iii.

If soon shalt be mine termination
I'll meeteth thee at the station;
Wherein cerulean airmist
Shalt maketh me drift, onward ahead.

iv.

Amongst the living
Not dead;
I shalt findeth thou
If today's mine last breathe somehow, I'll be waiting in a shroud.

v.

If mine Incarnadine
Shalt be spilt as wine;
And I hemorrhage from mine brain
Just remember queen, eternally, we shalt meet and be one again.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley/Filipino rose dedication

Why am I here?
What is the Purpose of Life?
What is Good?
What should I Value?
Is there a God?
An Afterlife?
So many times I’ve asked these things.

Aristotle, Confucius, The Buddha….
All lived long before Christ
And asked the same.
What is Good…?
Who Knows?

So all we can do
My friends
Is go with our gut.
Just Do It!
Love and revere All Life,
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you –
A cliché I know…
Be empathic and compassionate.
Be a Humanist Plus.
Call it a “Lifist” if you will.

Use your talents to the full
Nay Grow Them.
Do not bury them in the soil.
Have Aspiration, ambition
And Achieve.

Forget about money
And celebrity.
Be honest in your labours.
Work always for The Common Good.

Promote your Wellbeing and your Health.
Give Education where you can.
Build bridges over all divides.
And never forget,
We are The Human Team.

Paul Butters

I’m just so tired
of carrying around these heavy bones,
of synthetic smiles and empty words,
of meaningless ***,
of dreams that cling to the sides of my head;
this chewed up, spat out,
sticky, deformed hope—
the kind you unknowingly step on,
carry with you for awhile
and notice suddenly
with a face twisted in disgust.
The same reeking kind you spend hours
digging out of the soles of your shoes
with a broken stick.

And just I’m tired.

I’m tired
of ******* the poison out of this wound,
of tasting its hot, tinny infection,
of the uncertainty of recovery,
of your one-man audience.
I’m tired of being tired,
and I’m tired of admitting
that I was a naive enough
to offer up the best parts of myself
to something pining for so much less.
I
will never be
less.

I’m tired, but I’m here.
I’m here, and I’m searching.
When I find myself again,
when I regenerate all of those best parts,
I won’t be tired.
I’ll be this amazing
[*******]
spectacle,
and I’ll make sure you and less
have the finest mezzanine seats
for the one thousand mic drops
I always knew I had in me.

I am a
warrior
But they don't give
A ****

So I fight
The silent battles
To preserve the
Human I am

I hear the screen door slam
and look to see who is there.
No one.
Was it the wind?
Was it my imagination?
Or was it you, walking into the house
to see what has become of the place you left
so many years ago.
The people have changed, grown older.
The dog is new, different from the one
you played fetch with.
The furniture is different, the wall colors updated.
But the love. The love is still here.
The memories are still here.
The aching heart is still here.
The adult/child is still here.
Waiting.
Longing to see you again and say,
“I love you daddy”