Driving to work
Feeling a little blue
Thinking about
A life without you

Trying to breathe
Without any air
That's how I'd feel
If you didn't care

Your love is my lifeblood
The fire to my soul
If I didn't have you
I wouldn't be whole

Together forever
On this you can rely
One day without you
I surely would die

Tanisha Jackland Dec 2015


Feed the licks of the Sun
with your immortal womb

Sieze the comfort
of the light before it dies
tried woman
waiting in the amniotic fluid


Show up in the afterbirth
before the hours
have gone fetal
deliver yourself from gender

Live the unknown gaps
free, black and forever

Womanhood It ain't always pretty, folks.
Listen here: https://soundcloud.com/ladyofire/eternal-female
brandon nagley Nov 2015


Her affection I needeth
To sustain mine living's;


Her smile I beseecheth
Which is vital to mine breathing;


Her laughter is mine medication
The herb to mine being;


Her blood everafter
Is lifeforce, is life to mine eyesight and seeing;


Her loyalty meaneth the world
O' how perfect she is a woman, the image of a queen, a real girl;


Her amour' is the path on which I abode
O' mine wife, mine soulmate and life, without thee I wouldst not be whole;

©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry

Tranquil Dawn Aug 2015

Each shattered bit,
it drags like chafed skin
inside my throat
irritating--in vain against
a mindless wash and blend.

Pull out the heart of me,
watch liquid fire seep through winding
tubes, the organ cries out in silence.
"Here, see my ugly mass?"
Follow the stench
to find a seething need
an aching want.

Claustrophobic twinges,
snap like twigs as words
spark to light on a page.
Forget to breathe,
each pointed thought,
places a salve of truth
on a mountain of pain.
The I.V.--the life force?
The thread to an eternity.

Consciousness gravitates
towards a vessel to
free yet frame the soul.
Stretching writhing,
against constraints,
relishing in its abandon.

Saturate the page,
dab at the embers
of our scattered eyes,
pulsing masses of emotion.
Still we fill--coagulate,
the aloe into the cracks.
Feelings release,
to churn and build.

Our Tourniquet is silence,
milling thoughts with no escape.
Blood letting is encouraged in writing.

"There is nothing to writing. You just sit down at a typewriter and bleed." -- Ernest Hemingway
Frank Ruland Oct 2014

Ink and Coffee:
easily used to
a poet's

— The End —