What if what you feared was always here?
Pain must be felt once it's there.
Where will you run to if there's only one where?
We try so heavily to avoid the inevitable because we're scared.
To embrace is to defeat, to conquer and adhere.
The cure to death is to live, the cure to hurt is to feel, to trust like the cuts were never there.
I know the pain & the failure, can make ****** minutes & depressing seconds feel like years.
We must stop hiding & open our vision to a world where we're encased in our fears.
I shall walk by Faith and not by sight with Belief in my tears and hope in my ears.
We are awake when everyday we see our fears.
I see hell everywhere.

Caution, not perfection. Caring, considerate, there's so much kindness we're meant to live out.
Imagine if we had to feel all the pain we give out.

cannot be earned. cannot be bought
cannot be grown upon a tree
this is what your work taught me...

to be a butterfly of tin
tough. resistant to the pin
to be a rhino made of paper
traversing planes just like a vapor
to be a tigress of silk
giving young pure mother's milk
to be a light. to ne'er expire
to be a flower made of fire

to express my feelings
reveal my hopes
find the humor
in my slumps
to find my weakness
feel the pain
find relief in its refrain
to smile and not feel guilt
gilt the flower... it will wilt!

to say what I mean
mean what I say
leave duplicity today!

to flow with ease
to turn a word
however banal
or absurd

absurdity is apt array
for the world of today!

to listen on the written page
to be a child
to learn

to rage!

this is what your work has taught
I may not learn it as I ought
but it always brings on thought
so know your struggle's not for naught
you're a flame that's burning hot!
in amber each penstroke is caught
I will, each war, have fully fought
I won't be fearful
never fraught...

this your poetry has taught!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/5/2015

ｔｈｅ ｐｏｅｔ
ｉｓ ｔｈｅ ｈｏｍｅｌｅｓｓ ｍａｎ
ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｔｈｅ ｃｏｒｎｅｒ;
ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｐａｓｓｅｔｈ ｈｉｍ ｂｙ,
ｈｅ ｈａｓｔ ｍａｎｙ ｓｔｏｒｉｅｓ
ｔｏ ｔｅｌｌ.



©ｂｒａｎｄｏｎ ｎａｇｌｅｙ
©ｌｏｎｅｓｏｍｅ. ｐｏｅｔｓ. ｐｏｅｔｒｙ

Remember our portfolio of poetry?
Our call and response.
I would write
You would sort of reply?
I stapled them all together
So glad, so relieved to share
Something at last
I stopped sharing at the end
You claim you have written two since then
I have written more than I can verbalize

And at the end
At the end of it all
The sharing felt so good so right
I convinced myself in the morning and in the night
But it was always me calling out
Awaiting your weak inauthentic reply.

No monophonic masterpiece
Sung on a monorail
In monotone with MSG
That's monosodium glutamate
I say that monotonously
A monoplane monopoly
A monomaniac with monomania
A monocle for monoculars
A monograph of monogamy
Monocetyledons- plants with single seeds
A monolith that's monogramed and monochromatic
You know the monosyllable of monotheism as fact
There is no monomial for mononucleosis
Are eggs mononuclear?
Monoxide just sounds dangerous
I have a monolingual term for mono
It's bad so please don't catch it

This brilliant morning
anything is possible

we are limited only
by rigid minds
whose fragile confines

can be vaporized
by choice alone.