The rock that once balanced on the mountain
has now tumbled down and blocked the only pass,
the valley remains cut-off, unable to sustain
even prayers could not move the big stubborn mass.

When great minds converge, they carry burden of hopes,
when creativity has to come out of neccessity,
esoteric ideas amalgamate with ladders and ropes.

Sheer force was unable to move the heavy bull
the ram was dropped and chisel was chosen,
it was time to think whether destruction can be beautiful

That which cannot be moved, can be carved to perfection
suited to your need, can bloom with painstaking nurture.
The valley now has become a source of attraction
with a tall structure on pass, called a gateway to the future.

I like to lick the window
he said
Whenever I see somebody
passing by
It's just my way
of saying*  Hi
I'd like to chat to them
but today I'm beat
I can't seem to stay
upon my feet
so I dragged a chair
which was such a feat
from dining room
to bedroom
and I didn't cheat
I actually left the room
for a moment in time
I love the new curtains
by the way
the fabric is sublime
but next time you decide
to rearrange the outside
could you give me a heads up
so I don't run and hide
so I can memorise
the exact amount of steps
I need to take
from bedroom to the out world
so I don't panic
when I try to escape
from the toaster
which asked me
if I was hungry
or the TV that invited me
to sit down and watch
a show or three
I don't like it when they talk to me
I just want to sit by the window
next to the bed
and lick all those people
walking by
**who managed to escape
from their head

She was like...
that rundown house you thought was empty. With each rock thrown, broken windows let in the cold, until one day, it was finally abandoned.

is like a dreaming realist.

is like a walking contradiction.

is like having so much to live for yet wanting to die.

is like being told a lie and pretending you believe it.

is like having so much to say and saying nothing at all.

is like falling in love with the flowers and autumn comes.

is like coveting a happy marriage yet fearing commitment.

is like being surrounded by a sea of people yet feeling alone.

is like consoling a friend when you're falling apart on the inside.

is like seeing a flashing neon sign that says happy when you're sad.

is like the romantic in your nature and the cynic from your nurture.

is like the smile in your face partnered with the scars on your wrists.

is like knowing that nothing you do or avoid would make it better or worse.

is like wanting to hug someone and cry yet knowing that you would smile at whoever you chose to see.

is like sobbing in a movie theater of strangers and that's the most comfortable you've been around anyone.

maybe i dream
too much
maybe i'm too cliché
like what you say
i don't know if you regard it
as such
but i've learnt to pay no heed
i don't care

for what good it is i know i have
something that you don't
i have a remedy i have
my land of sunsets do you?
i'll look to the horizons
if i want to give in to death i won't
i'll try to stay high
like my balloon

every time i lose myself to tears
i'll close my eyes
and i will see my land of sunsets
what good are
goodbyes?
maybe i'll find something that i won't fight against

strangers say i am clothed with
mystery
i don't know if it's true but
what do they know about me?
friends tell me to smile more and
do their best to cheer
but they're wasting their time it's all in vain because
how can i when i am veiled with tears i have.. so many fears

what is life? for what it's worth i
will try to put myself out there
i'll try to live a life..
just smile and say "thank you i'm doing great"

now it's the sixth hour and the sunset is
shining on my window
casting its brilliance and shadow in the sky and it's
so beautiful as if cupid hit my heart with bow and arrow

i close my eyes again and the light fell on me
i want to be a sunset too
but i'm happy just because i have that faraway place here
in my heart but now, until next time boo.

take me out of here
someplace away from the maddening crowd
away from the noise and the city
flashy people, fancy suits, number 1.

i want out, i'm sick of everything
i scream, but they hear nothing
eyes that see not
ears that hear not
hearts that neither feel nor understand
grown cold and cruel and mad

take me out of here before i go insane
before i become one of them
before i'm used to the pain
before i'm unable to love again

*please take me out of here

Write a poem that a man can understand
A man that doesn't understand them
I read to him and he seems confused
Would it be easier it I spelled it out:
I  L o v e  Y o u .

I know that you want to know
Why I am the way I am
I brush it to the side playfully
And answer "because I can"
The most nonchalant answer I could give
You better believe that's what you'll hear
Because I'm not ready to confess the truth
I'm not ready for you to disappear.

You pushed me
Expecting me to fall
Silencing my voice with your screams
Ignoring my surrendering call

You bent me
Expecting me to snap
Untwisting my brain within your fingers
Letting the fragments rot in your lap

You stabbed me
Expecting me to bleed
Over and over you left me for dead
Hoping that I would cede

All of these terrible things you've done
All of the pain that I've endured
Karma will come back to find you
And when she does I am sure,
She will haunt you for a lifetime
She will avenge all of my pain
You will cower in her fury
And you will remember my name.

Agápi mou, how I dote thee mine
baby of potentate vision's; thou
art the foregone one of stringed
song's, that young lover's seeketh
To hath. Atop the thysiastery of
Ourn affection, I shalt layeth
Ourn all mine amour, near
The pearly gates, I'll meet
Thee at the door. The entry-
Way wherein only select few
Shalt pass, the liquid water there hath
Life, none hopelessness nor any bad; just garden's of
Succulent features, history's apostles there to be ourn new
Teachers, wherein the pictures art surreal, what's thine is mine, and what's mine is thine; feeling paradise complete us in lively field's.


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