"All the other kids used to poke fun at your name
But I didn't
To be completely honest, I din't care what your name was
Because to me,
You were Angel
You embodied that to me, that what you wore in my eyes
and man
You sure did wear the hell out of that name."

she will always be gone,
by your side, but alone.

she will always stray,
always searching for a better day.

she will always leave
so cherish her now please.

she will remember you the most,
love her now, or haunted will be her ghost.

Why else wouldst demon's
Tremble in her presence;
She's a serpahim, of course.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley/angel dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Burn his sigil
into soft flesh
of wrist or
maybe
of throat
to set free
the music
from the
Soul

I saw you in a dream,
A cold familiar scene.
Like a vision from my youth,
Eyes opened to the truth.
Hand stretched out to touch you
Feeling nothing but the air.
Your eyes phantom haunting
Through strands of golden hair.
The motions of your body
Entranced my soul and mind.
With wings spread like angels
You took off into the sky.
Whether a nymph or fairy
I know I cannot say.
To fathom your existence
My heart’s longing every day.

Trudging through the fields of grey
Worn boots that have seen better days
Sword hanging from bloodied hand
Death spreads across the land
Crows circle around his head
They carry the voices of the dead
Sky grey with cold, bitter rain
He stares across the dismal plain
A journey long through endless years
Left behind his childhood fears
Long forgotten love and joy
No more an innocent boy
He's killed for duty, honor and pride
Now he kills just to survive
His battered face and bloodshot eyes
His wounded soul's unending cries
Adorned shield, like him battered and broken
All the oaths he should never have spoken
Promises made to god and to man
Abandoned like a misguided plan
Hunched over and broken the wasted land he roams
There's nowhere left he can call home
Laid to waste by his own hand
Once a paradise now a desolate land
The last one standing wins the prize
He should have read between the lies
Sold his soul for fortune and fame
In the end only he's to blame
Killed them all, newborn to the old
From the weak right up to the bold
Couldn't be stopped once the blood-lust started
By his hand, from life all have departed
A job well done or done to well
Now he lives an eternal hell