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 Apr 2017
brandon nagley
Moxie after a short nap,
crescive energy from the
Cream-sugared taste; Java
A-plenty.

                                   Another minute to
                                   Waste; for this life's
                                   Not long enough.

A coy wouldst be nice,
For tis I am human,
A convive with
Scented candles,
Bare feet; none
Shoes nor sandal.

                                    I seekest contemning
                                    Not more doubts and
                                    In tears to be oceans
                                    For swimming; but
                                    Like a newborn, I
                                    Want to be rocked
                                    In one's arm's, and
                                    Fingertips touching,
                                    Two separate souls
                                    Connecting, as mine
                                    Legs cross with one,
                                    Side to side; arm to
                                    Arms. Mine hand
                                    Over ones hips,
                                    Tightly squeezing.
                                    Lips bitten a bit
                                    For kiss, a gentle
                                    Bleeding, two-
                                    Hearts beating,
                                    Becoming one
                                    Flesh, ones head
                                    Resting upon this
                                    Ancient chest. To
                                    Kiss one's forehead,
                                    And sayest (hey mine
                                    Queen), wakie wakie
                                    Mine love, tis the morn,
                                    I made thee breakfast-
                                    Toast with butter, jelly,
                                    Eggs with cheese on
                                    On top; hot coffee.
                                    Id stroke ones hair
                                   Mine fingers caress
                                   One's scalp and head.
                                  I'll just stop before I
                                 Keep going, these art
                                 Just wantings kept un-
                                 Said. I think I'll just go
                                Back to bed. I think I'll
                                Get lost in mine head.


  


                       © Brandon nagley
                   © Lonesome poets poetry
Word meanings
Moxie- force of character
crescive- increasing, growing.
Coy- caress, strong with a hand.
convive; a gathering at which there is feasting.
Contemning- love.
Tis- it is.
Java- coffee.
Wouldst- would.
None (no) in archaic form.
Seekest-seek.
Sayest;say
Mine+my.
Thee-, you.
 Apr 2017
MKF
"I didn't mean to break it" he said,
Holding my heart in his hands.
"I didn't mean to break it
I swear it wasn't my plan".
He held my mangled heart out,
Unsure of what to do.
"I didn't mean to break it,
But I don't have any glue".
I watched him let the pieces drop
And bounce around the floor.
"I didn't mean to break it,
But I don't love you anymore".
For you
 Apr 2017
LittleFreeBird
Fate stitched us together
Love sewed us a pattern
Every bit of me is
Threaded through you
Darling we are patch work
Cross stitched across boarders
Time has hemmed us to perfection
And we are
A master piece
 Mar 2017
Akira Chinen
She was a composition sketch of his needs for love and wants of lust
the perfect dream of sea mist and honey drips
a kind gentle hand to hold and soothe broken bones and caress his heart
and a body of fire and sin to push his flesh through desperation and fill his mouth with eager hunger and spill the satisfaction of desire to soak deep into his skin
a painting tattooed under the skin of his soul and a song in the rhythm of his pulse
perfect beauty in the black and grey and white photograph
with dark secrets dancing in the mystery of her eyes
and the art of seduction seeping from the curves of her lips
and he was lost between the reality that he would never know the bliss of licking the poison off her lips
and the indulgence of letting his imagination print films of love
and forever tangled with thier bodies
as they tumbled and fell between sheets of lust and pillows of sweet whisperd words and he sketched her name and wondered if he was real or was he just made up of words from someones imagination
 Mar 2017
my cup overflows
the wet coconut leaves
glistened in the moonlight
Telling stories of the life
I once lived
the sea calls me
To the deep
The wind sings me to sleep
only to dance under the moonlight in blissful dreams


i dove in the glistening ocean
alive at night
breath in deep, the salty air
oh what precious  delight

down to where the clams open
and glowing fishes live
i find my home now
i finish my trip

#death #of #a #star
i live in the tropics .....
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