I see a flash
A sight to behold
The work of an immortal sculptor
Walking straight in elegant pride
Worth of a princess of the sun
Firmly transfixed in her twelve
Moving into the emptiness of an invalid society
Her innocence screaming
In an unchallenged clarity

And only twelve moons
The framework of her modeling salivates
Wolves in men
Who’s been exposed to the virus
Emerging from the bush land of their desires
To seek their vengeance in a fanatical hatred
And poor me the princess
With the *** lunacy roaming the streets,
Sanity of abstinence is the greatest challenge.

Swung from poverty to adolescence
A pendulum of fates
Hunger at home for the family
And her homestead a moonscape of desolation
The two hundred shillings does the trick
She trades out her innocence
And virginity too; a girls pride
And alongside the legal tender
Comes the virus
The minute monster
Savoring a society of huge minds.

There is the tuberculosis
In a hospital ward
Full of undug graves and shrines unnamed.
Drawn into the vacuum of her fate
Eyes wide open in dismal finality
The princess
Lie in freeze frame of death
A pyramid of events
Molded out of her last several terrible seconds
Lamentation for the society
A dull eulogy for our girls.

I see a flash
A sight to behold
The work of an immortal sculptor
Walking straight in elegant pride
Worth of a princess of the sun
Firmly transfixed in her twelve
Moving into the emptiness of an Invalid society
Her innocence screaming
In an unchallenged clarity

And only twelve moons
The framework of her modelling salivates
Wolves in men
Who's been exposed to the virus
Emerging from the bushland of their desires
To seek their vengeance in a fanatical hatred
And poor me the Princess
With the *** Lunacy roaming the streets
Sanity of abstinence is the greatest challenge.

Swung from poverty to adolescence
A pendulum of fates
Hunger at home for the family
And her homestead a moonscape of desolation.
The two Hundred shillings does the trick
She trades out her innocence
And virginity too- a girl's pride
And alongside the legal tender comes the virus
The minute Monster
Savoring a society of huge minds.

There is the tuberculosis
In a hospital ward
Full of undug graves and shrines unnamed
Drawn into the vacuum of her fate
Eyes wide open in dismal finality
The princess
Lie in freeze frame of death
A pyramid of events
Molded out of her last several terrible seconds
Lamentation for the society
A dull eulogy
For our girls.

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

My town is a time- capsule;
undug before its time.
My town is a familiar song;
with painful, haunting rhyme.
My town is a thrift store jigsaw;
all the pieces don't quite fit.
My town is a holey target;
with the bulls-eye not quite hit.

Failures
Quirks
Shortcomings
Flaws
apparent at every turn.
My town is a heaping bonfire;
a mess destined to burn.

Here I am in the yard again,
shovel in one hand, plastic
bag in the other, trudging
toward the fence in my slippers,
determined to not feel squeamish.

The dog has been scolded
and brought into the house;
she whimpers at the back
window, watching my progress
across a quarter-acre of dormant
grass dusted with morning snow.

Up close, fixed by death,
the squirrel bares its teeth,
white and sharp, its eyes
the size of juniper berries.

I tilt it into the bag,
blood smearing
the rusted shovel,
and turn back, surprised
by the heft of lifelessness,
how dead weight pulls
a broken body down.

Gravity, it occurs to me,
is a relentless undertaker.

I walk and the bag swings
like a soft pendulum
banging against my leg,
counting out my steps,
confounding the dog.

You see, our yards are
nothing but undug graves.

If gravity is our undertaker,
then physics has pocketed
the stars, wearing a funeral
suit blacker than outer space.

This is our first date
I didn't know where to take you
So I took you to see my grandma
She was always the life of the party
Funny how life works sometimes

I have been planting flowers around her grave
Because the gravediggers don't quite understand how much she was worth

The man that went to war and came back without his legs can't come see her because their only child is a good for nothing

Yes I'm talking about my father
He tried his best but something in him just didn't click
The only thing he could think of money and how wet he could get his ****

If this isn't coming right
Let me try again
Your hair reminds me of the flowing of our bodies when we are intertwined
Skeleton bones will be undug to walk amongst us again
Your smile reminds me of hers and oh god do I feel so warm

Being up on this hill with you
Fingers laced in one another
Your blue eyes beaming at how beautiful this meadow is
I hope that I can lay here with you

In the garden
before it was lost,
(come back soon
lost garden),
pepper vines grew around
the sweet fruit trees.

durian fell
sarongs rose,

all was fecund in the globe
of sour tamarind
and bitter herb;
a balance, a unity
of love given and
lust taken.

chilli red yellow green
shone in morning mist,
evening gloam among
myriad leaves clogging the undug pool,
hurting the fish breath
in the old frog pond.

unpicked, the fruit.
unclipped, the hedge.

all my life
too lazy to get ahead,
leaving all my fruit to seed.
let it rot and feed the sand
soil, grow turf beneath the trees.
in this moment only hell and heaven.

The weekly news
For the past 5200 weeks,
Fills like the undug dig.
Famine, disaster, disease,
War and ruination
Are piled and plied,
Recycled and reused,
Familiar and alien,
Storied and spun.
Beheadings aren't new or news:
Meathooks and blades
Are rusting beneath the surface,
Dug and brushed off
As relics of our century.
But digs never give the whole story:
The Acts of Kindness,
The ***** donors,
The designated drivers,
The visit of a friend,
The holding hand,
The unexpected gift,
The touch at the end,
The altruism.
We don't lose these;
We don't bury them.

She was single for ages,
Friends taunted her by different sages.
She prefers to be alone,
As to answer there could be none.
All she loves is animal,
Forgetting she too is a mammal.
She longs for something,
Which none can think of providing?
She is a self question-mare,
As well a self-answer.

She just thinks,
As her thoughts sink,
Providing several hyperlinks,
Which vanishes by mighty winks,
While her itchy nose turns into pink,
Whilst simply imagine a sip of tea to drink.

She owned a magic wand,
The once living wand,
At every need, proved to be a wand,
That was her treasure to be known by wand,
Not sure has she lost her wand
Trusts she has not lost her wand.

Think
She was not single for ages
As she had her MAGIC wand
She was then given
Given a wand later
She wanted to accept
Situations held her back
The wand thought to wait
She aided the wand not to wait
Her wand preferred to wait.

Old is gold
Coals become diamonds
Undug Gems may be dug later
She should seek for
Wand to be a wand or magic wand.


Dated: 3.1.2016