words trip, stream, flood off the tongue
a wiggling in the ear, drums
clicks clucks stops starts, clashing symbols
do you feel my language?

summer love

reaching bones

warming

cold marrow

Dark, so sweetly
spirals of black
slaking black
in layers
        of rhythm
liquid night
brush-stroked
        into oblivion
drink up, my love
let thirst
       be satisfied
let the pulses
of rock and hard
places be
         hotly gratified      
dusty artifacts
in alternation
as we imbibe the potions
           of manifestation
they twist and turn
bubble up through the muck
electrify the system
as we get ready to ****
  up all those hollow,
vapid schemes
busting them apart
         demolishing themes
of stereotyped hearts
smashing through convention
until the dry becomes wet
reaching ascension
in tears and sweat
the water gets flowing
     down from mountain ice
as we pulverize limits
          without thinking twice
and while obscurity
of twilight in the shadows
             of dusk
blurs our vision
in harsh realities, brusque
we know that we must be who we are
live this life in full force
filter broken voices
that sabotage our course
      and in a flick
                 of a whisper
an ancient eye blinks
and with one feral breeze
we are over
         the brink
like a fall from a
cliff in a delicate arc
              we open up
our buried layers
to the obsidian
              spark

Mine lily of the valley, mine lotus of the unrestrained.
Mine Senna alata, mine allay of human angst;
Mine Kalinaw in mine Stygian juncture's,
Mine Kaulayaw aloft the extraterrestrial
Structures.                          Mine Paraluman that giveth me these word's to writeth, the one that bringeth me excite;
In mine core thou art invited.
Mine Kundiman by which I replay in this skull,
Mine hand of time, mine angelic mind-
That I do learn from.
Mine Makisig precious stone, undug from the clay,
Mine, all mine, I canst sayest it all day.
Mine past, present, future; woman of now, forever's our's
Mine Jane. O' how Dalisay, O' how Dalisay, doth ourn water run sparkling; Only because mine love, we sip it as queen and king. One time soon, to shareth wedded ring's, wherein the pain's of the now; art gone and unforseen.


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

The monsoon cloud swooped low
to **** her
and the night seemed to wear
the darkest cloak

Three miles down south
she had gone to the weekly haat
for half a litre of earth oil
thru mud as thick as her desire
for a small glow in her thatched hut

When she reached the stream
she paused on the brink
and then like an added note
to the music of rain
her swan little frame
glided to the other bank

The wind was shivering
but she was warm in the dream of
one small light in her home
to **** the demon of dark

A blue opening in the world as the rain was ending , gregarious Pigeons scramble atop store front perches in the drying western wind
Tired pedestrians labor wetted city sidewalks , late morning
silhouettes appear against post World War II row settlements
Saturday clerks prepare street displays , elderly couples window
shop for bargains with disdain , people and Freight trains trudge along , in route to unknown places* ....