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Distance does matter,

                        When it comes to worldly relationships.




                                    But it doesn't matter at all,

                                  When it is a God-centered one.





As long as you connect each other to God,

  
                                  Then He will concatenate and secure,

                    Your hearts and souls together,



And He will surely,

          Give you miracles,

                      That'll show and prove you,




                                                       ­                    How He will find a way,

That you both will be together.



                           © Earl Jane
                             ♥ E.J.C.S.

i

Her cotton swab bolster
Marinateth her midnight sweat's;
She titter's thus from woe
Though I seeith when her heart burst showeth.
Dejection corset.

ii

Epistle's art stacked up in her thought's
Of what she should writeth tommorrow;
Grief stricken, by none restful sleeping
Awaking for school,
Another day bottled.

iii

Her way's art of God
He's her truest guidance;
She giveth truth
Sweetful tooth
A fruit of whom I shalt liveth.

iv

Death she's tasted, as Dom Pérignon
Her word's, as the wine she speaketh;
Her back hurt's, her love's at work
She telleth star's, from whence their birthed
As tis she's a faraway light as well.

v

She's seen Gehenna, she's been trapped in cell's
She's seen misery, and heaven and hell
Though when I'm close, she heareth Bell's
She raiseth a toast, when I'm in her realm
A queen, a rose, a bud bloomed, sadly, she wanders her room.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
© あある じぇえん

There are 10 kinds of people in this world,
and binary accounts for them all.

They're happy and sad.
They're ones and zeros.
Villains and heroes.
Villains, yet not all bad.
Despite everything life decides to hurl;
Despite every brick ball of fear
Through the stained glass windows of their minds,
Through it all, they survive.
They're angry and glad.
They're happy and sad.

And in their duality, they're still smiling there
at your sharp hasty words
at your venomous hurt
that you wish so desperately they, too, shared.

I wonder if birds count themselves lucky
To find themselves free in the sky.
Knowing they can escape up into the air.
They just have to spread their wings and fly.

I wonder what happens if they somehow fall,
And they find themselves bound to the ground.
Do they just accept their fate,
And fade away without a sound?

Or do they thrash and yammer
Until they can't anymore.
Then, just lay there and look up,
Remembering how it used to be before?

Do they fear that they are prey,
Another species' meal?
Or do they lose all their senses,
And choose not to feel?

I wonder if they're left just a little bit hopeful
That help may come along,
So they don't completely give up,
And try to keep themselves strong?

Or if they just lay there,
And wait for their eyes to close tight,
And slip away happily.
Surrendering without a fight.

I think, if I were a bird,
Who fell down from the sky,
I'd fight, thrash, yammer and hope..
Until the day I found myself capable of spreading my wings to fly.

i

Afore there was an astrobleme, deep within me
Though now an astral queen, serenadeth gleamed;
Canorous and splendorous, her cantillate I repeat
I mimic her dancing step's, jumping on mine feet.

ii

She's sad when the past awakens, crying dreading tear's
Though tis what she don't knoweth, her king is all right here;
And through the year's, the catoptromancy shalt tell it's fortune
Chiliad timespan, her body to be mine land, water flow sourcing.

iii

I wilt constellate all her worries, and collect them on mine head
Her Burden's I shalt maketh as mine, and taketh all her's instead;
And the cyanic water's shalt we swim through, sail to the glass
The brokenness shalt leaveth her, as no time exist's, nor our past.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©あある じぇえん

egos collide, egos divide
narcissistic and too commanding
egos inside, egos provide
an image that is so demanding

egos misguide, egos betide
the mind that is not expanding
egos aside, egos denied
would lead to more understanding

Tis we must remember
In this world of H.P;
Tis not about the follower's we get
But ourn word's we spread as seed's...


©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Brandon nagley