Up on top lonesome Lovers hill,
Wherein the ghost's of romance doth reside,
I shalt roameth the plain's of the dead
Between the murdered and suicide's....
God hath called me to be his light
Wherein the adversary's doth vacation,
But soon I shalt be free
In a grove of emancipation.....
I will passeth by the skeleton's of hate
None to be jealous there, just a heaven-like fate...
I shalt wander on into the gate
And mine thorns shalt be removed,
Living on spiritual water,
I shalt arise from mine tomb...
Whisking, I feeleth mine heart slowly coming to a close
A seraphim is awaiting me, dressed in satin clothes....
As tis mine ears pop, I get pulled up to above.....
A place wherein all is evident, a land fruitful filled with love.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry