Everyone wants to have
The look of the poet
Yet noone these day's,
Wants to be real poet's....
Everyone wants to be a rock star
Or movie star.
Or even an athlete.....
But the poet,
Is one not of this world...
A poet
Is one unearhtly
Celestial in his way's.....
A poet doesn't follow the paths of this world......
The poet followeth his soul,
Which cometh from God....
And no rock star
Or athlete,
Couldst match up to that....


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Trolls may rant and trolls may rave
But they have hollow minds and little do they gain
I've not yet seen a single troll get the daily poem
Perhaps it's their ineptitude caused by stagnation of the brain
They choose a victim without conscious thought
Then attack with words of bitter bile
But then forget the Wolf bites deep
But still retains his smile
Now trolls are big and ugly
With the foulest words and breath
But, oh yes trolls remember
THE WOLVES ALL RUN IN PACKS

I touch you
And you disappear

i have no real dreams to speak of
i speak of my nightmares even less
i am just trying to reach the peak of
that mountain, where i am blessed

material goals aren't what i talk of
spiritual goals, i talk of more
i am just trying to walk the walk of
those spirits who walked before

How is it i die daily? Not a bad dying experience. . . . . .Just daily, in deaths dark and lonesome tunnel. . . . . .this all powerful commandment of god and holy reina angel cometh to greet me at the end, where theres a pinpoint of light. And god fashioned this reina in spanish attire for the night. . . Tis i get excite daily. . .because i knoweth tis mine reina spanish angel. . . .wilt always protect me. . . .she goeth by the seraphim name. . ..(Elsa Angelica) moonstruck queen. . . .

. . . . .nothing

she's the homily accolade by which i liveth,
Idyllic radiance tis she doth giveth.
I am servile to her every needs and wants.
I Shalt tout her,
an implement daily her mine shakespearian vows. . . . . .

Tis the lightbulb went out
The sanctuary's gone dim
Mine vitality ****** from under me
Hell grabbed be in its abyss;

The burning is underneath me
Henceforth burning mine lashes
Mine screaming canst not be heard
Mine liquid fired to Ashes....

Mine bulbed lenses
Singe inside mine sockets
Buck naked for all to see
No shirt, sleeves , nor pocket's.....

Just agony of death,
Clinching it's underworld teeth
Until I saw an entity
Put the life back into me....

This same lass bypassed
The portway to anubis
She hadst taken broken bone and glass
Just to deliver me from Satan's whip....

She tooketh me from crevasse gulf
She granted me just one wish
I wished I couldst serveth her the rest of mine day's
And from her to get one kiss....


She saidst thy wish shalt be granted
And she pecked me on mine cheek
Leaving angelic dust Mark's
As tis mine legs went weak....

Mine health returned to me
One hundred fold in a flash,
She crossed the lines of hell
Just so mine life couldst last....

So now I go
Unto her throne,
And sing for her as her muse
And when she's down,
I cometh around,
And play her romance tunes......


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa  Angelica dedication