Thick neck
Big fat gut
Hide of a mule
Packing dog
"Venomous lie"
Digging for fuel
Oil stained hands
Animals in sight
Shed with a lamp
Bag over shoulder
A military tool
Stick out the thumb
A lost soul fool
Don't "go black"
Or you'll be a ***.

The rustic feel of
the electric oil lamp
is enticing. It gives this
shell of a home life.

The artifical light gives
this dark room meaning.
I want to do that for you.

I usually end up falling short.

"I promise it'll be better," I whisper.

She stares me down and says,
"we'll see".

throws shade*

breaks something*

It's just a ******* SHADE¿¡

Quiet night it is, as if it still
keeps the mystery in it's womb,
under the starlit sky we relive
the divine happening yet again.

Some, yes never miss the crux,
the truth of the story told in light;
but the fact remains that most of us
are only obsessed with the light.

So the stars hung high up shed
light in many hues different,
we just repeat the customs of yore
or add some more, feel contented.

The effect now is just ritualistic,
where does the mind hide?
allowing rampant darkens rule
making one another fight , it's sad.

A silver star is again born
in a far corner of the blue sky
and sheds it's light on all,we see
sky of our mind keeps on shining.

Do we remember to imbibe,the spirit?
of the rays of the cleansing star
are we aware that there is no
shadow to the star's light.

She's the light
That leadeth the way;
She's the prayer
By which I pray.

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

God saidst let there be light
And the Filipino queen, lip up the land;
An Asian lampstand.



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

The hanging lights
he decorated
in my room
blurred
my sight

Gold may flow in rivers for all I care.
In the dusty song of the koel,
In the humid and bustling, cheerful bazaars,
In the warm sunshine in the eyes of my people when the rain wipes the ashes off the lenses after another season of fire,
Where everyday is a new storm, perhaps a new rainbow,
In the welcoming, sweat-stained soils,
My footsteps shall always wander...

The rabbit on the moon smiles.

~Wordsmith