I crushed a flower
      in my hand.
It felt good.
It felt right.
Felt like I was
      absolutely
      in control.
Petals and stem juice
      stained my hand.
I make a wind
      and
       blow
        them
         away.
Just like a judge
      presiding
       over a trial,
I am the voice
      of justice.
A bloated bulb
      of tremendous
       distance
        begins to roll
         over to me.
Misguided hand,
you must know,
      that what
        you
         began
          will come to pass.
Morphine eyes
see shapes and
      shadows
that flicker briefly
      before
        floating away.
The hand can
try and hold
itself in power,
      but
       in
        the end
         can only
          move as required.
I am as crushed
      as the flower,
       staining
        the palm
         of my demise.

God is very generous
He gives to those who seek
He resists the proud & arrogant
And undergirds the meek
He puts to shame the strong of mind
Gives wisdom to the weak

God is very merciful
He helps the poor & lowly
But He is not like Santa Claus
He will give, but slowly
He will not prosper greediness
For God is pure & holy

God is very fair & just
He protects downtrodden
He will not help the vengeful man
Who wants to **** and plots them
He will repay the evil one
For wickedness he's brought them!

God is of a lowly heart
He came to earth a slave
To His Father's every wish
To be murdered by the knave
Innocent of everything
They put Him in the grave

God is Truth & Righteousness
He won't bend to our whim
He won't wink his eyes for wickedness
Or rubber-stamp our sin
He helps those who want to change
And give them strength to win

For God is strong and mighty
He's not for the high-born
Three lepers ran off multitudes
He defeats who He has sworn
He gave David polished stones
To slay the Philistine

God  is patiently in love
With those of slower pace
He lets them fall, then picks them up
He does not turn His face
Does not regard color or creed
Adores the human race
He suffered the crown of THORNS
He came to share His Grace

God is the total Ruler
The holy angels sing
Around His throne and scepter
On their glorious wings
He's due praise & honor

For HE is our KING!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/24/2016

Strobes of light bounce around you
And the forces keep pulling me in.
Im out of my depth in this moment,
But the forces keep pulling me in.

The mystery compels me forward
And the shadow keeps me away.
Out of the darkness you appeared
To take me to solace once more.

Passion seeps from your words,
And the forces keep pulling me in.
Im scared to let myself go,
But the forces keep pulling me in.

planting and then digging up the past
like grasping hands of shattered glass
scattered patterns come back fast
an attachment to the splattered mass

blackened fragments of first and last
spattered paths that lead right back
stabbing agony that will never pass
shackled to the everlasting black

Kiyahaga jane, Kiyahaga,
The entrance is narrow,
Enter in; up the stairway
Of adamant wing's from
Cherubic sparrow's. Here
Mine love, there's none
Need to weareth aged
Flesh.

                  Inena, to the place of godly rest.

Thou shalt be made a dress,
From intangible material;
A pattern of the past,
Present, and future;
A glowing touch
Surreal.

             Nasgigwo Winigalsd, Nasgigwo Winigalsd;

Carven prayer's shalt reach the great one's
Throne, intertwined we'll be, with peace as
Home; worries none more, no skin nor bone
Shalt pass this zone, of angelic habitation.


Gvgeyu, Gvgeyu
O' we shalt love, a purest truth;
Galohisdi Hisdugi, come on through-
Thou art me, me thee, spiritual blood
Releasing.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedicated

Bucolic piedmont woodland avenues , where rain clouds touch the hillside after welcome showers have passed
Where pungent fields of green native wild grass connect ones place
with his past
Red-tailed Hawk sentries stand guard o'er Loblolly Pine forest
Contemplative Blue Herons work scenic marshland unnoticed
Land of Pink Dogwood , Cane and blackberry thicket
Of riparian wonders , foggy cattle- worn bottom land , lake dancers that twirl morning side West Point , Lanier and Oconee inlets
To rural lanes colored with the blessings of home* .....