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 Jul 2015
Poetic T
And the faceless looked upon the living and heads tilted in
Anguish, in hated of those features, that expressed
As theirs were but a blank state, could we ascend into there
Fears of an existence where nothing was shown but torn
Into our reality through pain.

Each yearned to expresses their contempt and would push the
Sheath between here and there, their finger would delve in
To those features that wished to show the pain they felt, so
Numb in that place of shadows where only the featureless
Were searching  in darkness. There are only silhouettes of
Shadows of former self's craving for the memory of before.

It doesn't matter to them that the flame past, that moments
Now extinguished they craved the time that was, not the
Nothingness, the faceless that they have now become. Wanting
To see through eyes not their own, to utter those grievances
That were not spoken in those past moments now dust.

The reaper left them in that place where evil lies upon thorns,  
That lacerate where innocence feeds into those that corrupted it.
To the darkest place and what was tainted now onyx blackened
No longer is there   humanity in this husk of shadow but taint
That was left upon death and it feed upon self, and feed well.

A shadow only has power in the dark but, we are darkness
In the light with our thoughts, that show them the faces that the
Faceless wish to show the pain of their loneliness. The darkness
Has a face and it is blank, it wants to see through your perception
Through you it wishes to vent its featureless obsession .
 Jul 2015
mike
the most intimate ive been
with anyone
in a long time
has been with my own hemorroid.
 Jul 2015
brandon nagley
Agrestial highway's, an agora of light's
Mine carrion shalt release its brawn,
Pushing the deceiver's and devils aside
I shalt awaken to the new dawn,
With Thorn's on mine head, dispensing mine own shine
The moon to guideth mine steps, the sun to glass mine eye's,
Às at the end of this deathly hole
I'll meeteth mine own cherub who awaiteth me, a cherub of flight

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
 Jul 2015
brandon nagley
If I'm gonna write a poem
I don't write on measely issues or topics
I do it big.....
I go all out.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
 Jul 2015
brandon nagley
The irony of mankind,
They maketh technology to better their lives
And yet,
Their technology
Is ruining their lives....
The irony...
As tis they couldst use that wired technology for healing
They use it for bombing and killing..
As tis they couldst use it for connecting
The fact is
They've all gone unconnected!!!!!!
Hiding behind some screen,
Forgetting what an old fashioned phone call is.....
Connection, man thought this technological advance wouldst do.
Disconnection is what is hast really brought them......

The irony.....


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
 Jul 2015
Jake muler
Paper and schoolpens will be this schoolboy's end
 Jul 2015
Edgar Allan Poe
Dim vales—and shadowy floods—
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can’t discover
For the tears that drip all over
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again—again—again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down—still down—and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain’s eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O’er the strange woods—o’er the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how deep!—O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like—almost any thing—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before—
Videlicet a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies,
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented thing!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
 Jul 2015
brandon nagley
Guess into the tunnel
I shalt dissapear
Tis much better
Then being here....



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Dissapearing
 Jul 2015
Poetic T
The waters calm exterior it was serine but
What was trailing back to shore waters in upheaval,
As paddles violently thrashed as If to cause
Pain,
Bruising,
Wounds
That were cut, but as the boat settled moored on
The lakeside, the waters serine angers
Lashing nothing more than splashes on the shore.

"I will swim with your voices give it time,

For the waters are a tomb of secrets,
We only see the surface never beneath,
Fears of what is not known or not of wanting,

"Stop screaming I need your words,
"Don't worry I will not harm you,

"Why did you take me,
"And are you talking to me?

"I just needed witnesses to this,
"I'll take you across the lake,

And truth to word he took them ******* silent
Was his wish, they were in false circumstances
Thinking freedom was near.

"look into the waters,
See what it is that I see deep beneath,

Gazing into the waters eyes focused on what
Faintly seen beneath,
But there spot was chosen, this was there moment

"Sorry I say but last words must swim,
"Waters will hold your spirit it is heaver than water,
"Your words I will bath in souls nourish my flesh,

"You said you wouldn't harm me,
"You said,

"The waters take you I have not done harm,
"Peace and last words will wash over you,
"Silence as you stare to the heavens unharmed,

Treading water like air, impulses wither as  
Hands,
Ankles,
Bound,
The water drinks upon the momentary upheaval,
Then all is serine once again, another flower
Planted at the bottom of this whispering waters .

Three days had past, and into the waters he bathes,
They called to him each wave upon shore a
Spoken,
Gestured,
Words,
Only heard by his thoughts, as he feels souls
Washing upon and over his feet, a tiny pull he feels

Speak your words,
"I will listen in water depths,
" I did not, no shame am I felt,
"The waters took you, not I,

Then he sank beneath into the clear airless void,
Looking upon those chained by waist,
Eyes once looking up,
But know looking forward,
Staring,
Gazing,
Dead
Looks of life silently departed, he freezes
As those socket-less voids,
Ascend on his thoughts. Raging he lashes out,
Now those chains of ******* snare upon his self.
Last moments not realised as on knees he is trapped
Airless void catching his last words

"I only wished to bath in your word,

Those that others never heard,
As life seeps from this husk,
In his rage all brought close,
His view is not of the heavens as
Those before he ******. But the dead
Did watch him with blank eyes,
His features frozen as if screaming but never caught.
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