There is a poet
And poetess
That writeth;
In the slums
And the ghetto's;
In the suburb's
In the meadow's.
There is a poet
And poetess
That prophecieth
In the mountain's
In the city, neath
Their graves, in
Tomb's, free one's,
Slave's, some known,
Many doomed, in
Heaven's gates, some
Art poor, some telleth
Of fate, some art lonesome,
Some speaketh of amour',
Some linger in the shadows,
Tortured by demon's, anguished;
Fighting hellish and earthly battles.
There is a poet and poetess that writeth in blood and in ink:
Some feareth death, death to some doth succumb when these artist's speak. Some hath wealth, some with naught, some groweth their own food, whilst other's stick to store bought. Some art peasant's, some art farmer's, some poet's preach and teacheth; whilst other's want to alarm us. There is a poet and poetess in this life and the next; some looketh down on loved one's, whilst the living is blinded by material net's. Some art lost, forgotten, some speaketh Spanish, Hindi, English, Arabic, french, lost languages, or Latin. Some just want to love, whilst some seeketh to findeth love, some want to flyeth away, as if a falcon or a dove. Some thinkest their better than most, others thinkest they art not better then noone, feeling dead as if a ghost. Some jotteth poetry to make them remember living, some art charitable, whilst poet's in prison sit and rot from killing or stealing. Some passeth time staring at the ceiling, whilst some overwork, some casteth their ten percent to worldly lusts, whilst other's pay to God in church. There is a poet and poetess that writeth, being dead or alive; O' poet's were all distinctly different though the same, in God's poetic eye's..............




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Did you ensure
Your qualifications

as

A load bearing wall
Before attempting to lift

the

Injured bird
Off the ground

it’s the sensations
that are most satisfying
an almost painful pressurized dance
between throat and chest
the way the process is felt
in the finite muscles and glands
that take their own actions
about the mouth and
interplay between the desmosome & basal
layers just beneath the eyes
yet the single most intriguing
part of the process
is the temperature of the fluid
and how it caresses each topical segment
of derma on it’s own path to the earth

U⃗U⃗s⃗ p⃗o⃗e⃗t⃗s⃗
A⃗r⃗A⃗r⃗e⃗ t⃗h⃗t⃗h⃗e⃗ d⃗e⃗f⃗i⃗d⃗e⃗f⃗i⃗n⃗i⃗t⃗i⃗o⃗n⃗
O⃗O⃗f⃗ i⃗n⃗s⃗a⃗i⃗n⃗s⃗a⃗n⃗i⃗t⃗y⃗ ;


Brandon nagley
Lonesome. Poets poetry