When I was 5 I started to put sharpie or pen on my nails to make them black.
And I even recall on one instance where I put mascara in my hair to give myself black streaks.
I now want black stiletto nails, and I know that many others have them, or even just paint their fingernails black.
And it makes me think, black is such a beautiful colour and yet we put down and make fun of the people of that colour.
They can't change it, and they shouldn't have to feel that they must.
Being another colour than white shouldn't be a day to day burden or task.
It should make you feel beautiful and blessed.
But not everyone sees it that way.
It's a shame really, you see so many superb black men and women that stand out in this day and age and community.
And it has been that way for centuries.
Giving us all music to move to and lose ourselves in, books to read (perhaps more than once), movies to watch and adore, and many other things.
And yet people don't realize, they're just HUMAN.
Not having a choice of what pigmentation their skin is.
Being beaten unmercifully, and some being prosecuted not from their actions but because people have come to terms that all of that colour perform the same cruel acts.
Stereotypes;
It's not fair and I refuse to live in a society that is so mean and brutal.
Be nice to people regardless of their skin, the look or feel of it.
Be helpful to those in need regardless if others wouldn't because they have different views than you.
I'm not saying this little collection of words will change the world.
But I'm letting it be known that I myself will not be spiteful towards others that have not been to me.
Just because their skin may shout out because it is darker than others, it doesn't make them less of a person.
You don't want people to be put in boxes and yet you categories them, making them feel small and wrong.
We have come such a long way, not just for this subject but for others.
But I want my voice to be heard and my opinion to be stated.
And for others to not be so crass and quick to judge.
People are people, and deserve to be treated like it.

A hippy child by birth
Preordained as a psychic,
Gyspie of thieving church.
Dandelions art their thirst
Days groweth colder
Downtime gets worse
Smiling faces sicken them
When others smile back
Melatonin
Vitamin d
F
And c
Sickened by mailing
Babble trawling
Click lick chatter
Bit wit batter
Shocked to sloth
And madness of creepiness

©brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry

You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses.

I've lived all my life acting,
Acting like I was fine.
Only pretending,
Never showing what's behind.

Then I met you, something started,
But nothing changed anyway.
I didn't want to be broken-hearted,
So I let my feelings in the doorway.

At least that's what I thought

Cause when you left me,
My world just crumbled down.
I didn't know you were the key,
The only one that count.

After a while I couldn't handle more,
I had to talk, to cry, to share.
Now I know I won't do it anymore,
After all, life's just unfair.

and acting is my shield

I find it sad how one minute you can hold someones hand and tell them you love them and the next they can be gone for eternity.
I haven't lost someone in a bit but whenever I do another piece of me gets chipped away.
Losing a family member or a friend, maybe even just an acquaintance it gets under your skin.
Knowing you can never hold another conversation, or shoot them a quick text.
Never hearing their voice again, they're gone forever.
Buried in the ground away from society.
And we wonder, has their soul survived and carried on to the Heaven we hear of and debate over?
Or are they in solitude?
We'll never know.
Until of course we slip into the light.. or darkness.
And the people cry over us.
Knowing that we're gone.
Never being able to return to the day to day routine of life.
Dead.. I suppose that's what they'd call it.

I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon.
She guards the night sky...
While I patrol these grounds...
Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon.

I am a vessel... all emptied and barren.
what once was full,
now echoes faint
the glories of yesteryears.
Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen.

I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own.
Immortalised...
Anchored...
to a body of mist and haze...
Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown...

I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms.
Hope etched tight
into my knackered knuckles
and calloused digits.
Please... take them in yours...
soothe them...
grant me your touch, your coveted balm.

Rain is just a way for the lonely to be touched.
I suppose that's why I love it so much.

It’s odd how the ugly in some can bring out the beauty in others.

As when someone makes you upset and you try to find the good in people or the world, and you turn around and there is a sunset, or a flower.

Just beauty in it’s simplest form, jumping out at you in the most insignificant way.

Making your skies not so grey.

I refuse to dream again
It only leads to pain
There is no truth therein
Whatever some may say
It's all tricks of the mind
And then in the light of day
Whenever I open my eyes
Reality is still grey

                             By Phil Roberts

Don’t compare yourself to others. Compare yourself to the person you were yesterday.