Waiting for you is divine intervention.  

Like waiting for the world to turn.
Like waiting for a comet to return.
Like waiting for a star to be born.
Like waiting for the planets to align.

But I know that, eventually, you'll be here.
And that's what keeps waiting.

In a secret chamber mine love-
novel to other's, we shalt repose.
Thought's to not only be understood
In the physical, but in the kingdom
Wherein living water floweth
From ourn soul's. Pinnacle's
Defying scientific theory of
Time and space. For where
We shalt be there art sea's
Eternally unspoken; Only
By God shalt one seeith the
Glimmering turnstile, none
trespass allowed there, none
agápi to be defiled. Here, this
Place we shalt floshtarize in
unbarring liberty; a cordillera
Aloft the breeze we shalt ascend.
Ourn spirit's wilt twist and bend
To the notes of saintly chord's. O'
Anon mine girl, anon; we shalt sip
From the grip of turquoise pond's. As
The treasures we wilt collect, shalt be
providential, ourn residential abode-
white as snow, O'er the Show
of the most essential.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication

The language of my love
Is in my beating heart
The sincerity of my laugh
My fingers in your hair
The sighs in my kisses
My genuine smiles
The nervous stuttering
How tightly I hold you

You are not here
You cannot fully understand
I struggle to translate

For a moment you think your good.
For a moment you're just so happy to see the water.
So happy that for a moment your ignorant that the picture painted in your pretty little head is just a mirage.
For a while you'll feel discouraged
till another moment passes you by and you'll just keep on repeating till you finally stumble apon an oasis
But remember
eventually it'll dry up and once again you'll live for the moments
and dread the whiles

None of the rays of sunshine
would deign this waxy skin,
just sand burned to ashes,
regurgitation from the slobbery hysteria
of the filthy sea.
None of these days of summertime
would violate my inner ancestral frost.
Red dragon of stone, this soul of mine
beneath the labyrinthine ghost,
of the wicked fate.
The stoic age wears the same livery,
in the smoke of my hyperuranium
no scream comes over this far
where the solid patience
is the only certainty
that dwells inside my self.

I have to push you away so I can feel the pain.
I don't wanna do this, it drives me insane.
There are some things I just can't explain.
I don't know why I have to live in vain.

I know the pain will not last forever.
Healing takes time, my heart was severed.
It's been many moons, the feelings have weathered.
To stay away from you would make me feel better.

Being with you has made me learn about life.
Don't give too much, they'll take it for granted.
At the end of this tunnel I know there's a light.
The light that leads my life is shining so bright.

I do not regret anything that happened.
Everything that happened is God's master plan.
Maybe he seen that you weren't for me.
But I will always love you, I need to be free.

Carrying the weight has made me much stronger.
Making me feel like my heart is brand new.
Ready for new love, fresh from the start.
But don't go too fast, don't rush the heart.

It tears me up for us to be apart.
But I'm a better man, to play a new part.
I learned about love, and how to let it show.
Be the best you can be, and just let her know.

Don't show it too much, they'll push you away.
That's what happened to me on a rainy February day.
But always reassure them that they're admired.
The fire burns steady, and will never grow tired.

But I will be the best that I can be.
Like me with her, when things were young and free.
And love someone who won't throw it away, just as she did.
And live a happy life, the way that it used to be.

Spent the evening
in the restaurant, surreptitiously looking
at distant women between the heads of men
  Games ensued
when I caught some
looking at me
     The eyes are important
     in the connections of us
     I flicked mine: this
     and that way:
tipsy slur in the way I threw the eyes
and the women I was playing with,
like I, playing and talking and playing
the people we were talking to had no clue;
the waitrons waited, the chefs never waiting;
no one had a clue.

Suddenly came a wave,
once silent in the sea of feeling,
and took energy
from every current before its time
then in one great sweep
swooped me and the sand of my spirit,
shaken like a potent drink,
to quake and proclaim to myself:
  There are so many women in the world
much more than men
for so much beauty
how can one ever be committed to only one?

     Always too* patient
I am then they are gone
to live again in my thoughts
resurrected as regret;
I pay for these evenings:
with unquenchable eyes,
with the big-chested wave collapsing into foam,
with the promise of love -
with myself.
This is what life is
to those who wait too* long:
all one ever kissed were eyes
while the ocean erupts
within the chalice of vulnerability
one's lips tremble from a safe distance;
but love never was the dying wave at one's feet.