A term of endearment
A pure bread
Pedigree
Imbecile

The firing squad on parade on the thoroughfare
The death squads are on patrol for run on sentences and chemical runoff
The peer mediators tell us all to calm down
The rapscallions try to push us into their get-rich-quick schemes
And the shut-ins settle down with their mail ordered brides

The wallflowers tell everyone to go to hell with great brio
I guess I'll see them there
It won't be much of an endeavor
It'll be like a dog finding its way home

The blood brothers perturb everyone else
Telling them their open blood pact is BYOB
Then starting a be-in singing Come all ye faithful and Kumbaya
It all comes full circle, monkey see monkey do

Lightning strikes in the distance. The winds
Howl, moons echo in faraway orbits, the wolves
Throw up their heads and scream into the night.

A gust of moonlight rushes through your focus,
Cursing your vision with faint outlines, phantoms
Of your window-sill. You think you hear the sea
But you have no blue. None but your curtains,
Flapping in the gale, raising like a crescendo

Up to the coldest stars, spread out across the sky,
Brush-stroke on canvas. Violins, the taste of coffee.
The wolves howl. Moons echo with your paintwork.

Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious
they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious
so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness?

A: Andante con fuoco
We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first
your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse
you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch
hittin’ soprano like a castrato *****!
my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key
my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat
you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own
find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome

B: Allegro con brio
throw down the fermata and hold up a minute
your ****’s a cacophony, no way to spin it
and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical
you just can’t register that my words are magical
I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat?
And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy

A: Moderato col legno
well as for your girl, it may sound corny
the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so *****
dispel your illusion, i got one more
your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score

B: Allegretto grazioso
your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless
your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless
your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown
an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones

A: Affrettando agitato
get out my face with your unnatural rap
you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat
you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat
so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH

B: Coda
pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode
such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a
no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience
an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence

So that’s their story, best not get involved
their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve

See my spiral for how she rendered it*  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXXXVI)


Ya.  Lean upon the porch rail as night's dense
Black--does it twinkle with ah, stars? nor hail
The mirk none pass through, just my brother.  Pale
As Au Revoir where all else sleep from hence,
Lo, how--what ist?  Hark!  For the train calls thence,
Its whistle breaking this cold silence' tale,
And think now, of how I'll lose all ist? frail
Against the metal lacework, sans defense.
Turn back indoors to clean the mess we'd stir
In babysitting.  Wooden tracks a crew
Of Brio traincars clattered oer in tour
Half like what deeply rumbles past, aye to
A fault, my brother saying "a real train--" Were
I numb too long oer Mum?  Or swear I knew?

01Apr17b

perched,
on a tendril whisp,
of a synaptic vine.
the half formed
thought,
chirped and chirked,
as it chipped away
at the ovipidal embrace of  
sleepy, slothfulness....
sublime.

it wanted freedom,
to fly and sing....
no longer,
sleeping or,
being held within...
no longer,
hiding away
from the sun.
no longer,
fearful of becoming...
undone.
influencing,
nada and no-one.

just happy to be,
a small, but clear...
clarion call.

now, standing strong
singing out it's
life embracing, life renewing
song.....
this thought, now has,
substance ....
bright coloured wings
and pride....
in the joy, it brings.
it has grace and grattitude.
a name so wonderful....
to go with,
this bright and energetic
attitude...

meet my new, paridigm...
all bursting with love.

his name..... brio

and he is the bringer
of my new zest, zing
and vivacity......

his breath washed against me
like the sea into a pier
in the brown gloom of his basement apartment-
the greenness of our unemployed summer days
halted by Arsenault's phone call

those deep azure ripples in the mohawk river
tinged with creamy moonlight
brought this life to the shore
here we go lie down, lie down-
a conjectural pernicious crimson tide

we wore black as midnight
like still, ominous birds
shrouded, our eyes a profligate deluge,
the cemetery inundated with pink brio
and the ****** yellows of inexpedient sunshine

i.

Mine being
Mine breath;
Mine brio
Mine best.

ii.

Mine esprit
Mine verve;
Mine sentience
Mine healing herb.

iii.

Mine impulse
Mine vivacity;
Mine vitality
Mine Filipino pure goddess recipe.

iv.

Mine tower
Of hope;
Mine Cosmos
Telescope.

v.

Mine earl
Mine Jane;
Mine Mrs nagley
With thee I am one, with thee we art twain.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/mine life dedication

my maestro, how do you -
with your baton - keep the
pulse of my heart aching
for the broad gestures your
open arms insinuate?

tell me wholly, how you -
with your hands - conjure
in me an anthem con brio,
then throw me subito doloroso
and even so, never losing
your scherzando.