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Cave Man Oct 2015
Your life was created
you deserve to be celebrated
Each soul is living heaven and hell
this makes many stories to tell

The wise man lives life simply
the ignorant can't even be fitting
they're so about possession
this world needs recreations

The legend gives life form
coming straight out of the dorms,
with a poetic soul to give emotion
and a rockers heart to devotion.
the man is like a shaman
yelling on stage yeah man!

with the smell of marijuana in the air
there is no time to spare,
Give in to the alternate reality
where its nothing but being happy
brandon nagley Aug 2015
i.

Thither soon
The harvest Moon;
September, mine month of birth
Me and mine Reyna shalt swoon.

ii.

Asunder the leaves
Through the fall lit tree's;
Me and mine dame
Shalt gyrate the amour that we bleed.

iii.

The moon to be red
Ourn eye's to giveth vision's;
Of me and mine sweet Jane
Making love in celestial kitchen's.

iv.

On the grass
In the sea of thought;
Ourn affection unearhtly
Not to be store bought.

v.

Ourn headdress
Made from peacock quill;
A medicine woman and man
shaman of autochthonous skill.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Brent Kincaid Jul 2015
Come and let me tell you
Tales of distant wizards
In far off foreign lands.
The speak in words of poetry
And magic incantations
Even they don’t understand.

They tell of arcane stories
Of dragons and the caves
Of gemstones where they hid.
They tell of verve and derring-do
And swashbuckling heroism
In legendary acts they never did.

They chant, these ancient shamans
To deities and gods of ancient name
Who they know well are fakers.
They foretell and portend wonders
And riches for those who rule, and
Call themselves movers and shakers.

These magic-minded soothsayers
Drape themselves in auras of mystery
And tell the believers they can heal.
And if the congregation fails to look
Closely enough at their performances
They believe the mythological is real.

And time can coat the stores in paint
That looks like the patina of the ages
So it passes the inspection of he willing.
No true believer looks for cracks
In the walls around the real facts
Or questions the truth they are killing.
Julie Grenness Jun 2015
MARS

The Shaman and the Planet Mars,
Gazing in wonder amid the stars,
Arms raised in worship,
The Universe the Navajo church,
Ancient marvels to behold,
The human race timeless and old,
From Mars to Earth,
Did spaceships give berth?
Ramses' face on Mars,
Pondering Ptolemies from afar,
The Shaman honour singing,
Future and past aligning,
Gazing in wonder amid the stars,
The Shaman and Planet Mars.
Feedback.
The weather plots his journey
Town to town in dead of night
Fields dead and on a gurney
He comes in to make it right

A rainmaker, people call him
A psuedo-scammer others say
He sells himself as godlike
He comes quick and does not stay

He tells people what they wish for
He beats the storm in to their town
He seeds their minds with his tall stories
He promises more green than brown

Like an evangelistic angel
He beats the weather to the ground
He's a salesman like no other
He picks their pockets with no sound

A rainmaker, just a scammer
He works the towns where nothing lives
He is an alchemist non-gratta
He always takes and never gives

He sells snake oil and concoctions
He is a shaman in disguise
He promises rain where none has fallen
There is more moisture in the farmers eyes

He takes credit for a rainfall
He promises gold where once was straw
He's a rumplestiltskin with their feelings
He sells them only what they wish they saw

He may believe in what he tells them
He always puts his name out on a stake
But, can he truly make the skies open
That is a choice the desperate make
brandon nagley Jun 2015
The pilgrim's pull ashore....

Strange glass waves smash their feeble ships...

In the meanwhile upon land
In the distant abyss.....

The wildmen dance in song singing....
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!

Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way...........

Connecting to the creator
Hellion's to sojourner men
Outlandish semblance
Blush maroon colored skin...

Pinna's stitched into costume
As bead's wrap their neck
Efflorescence garbs their smiles
As sage smokes their chest's

Trace bouquet Smell's as oak
As the Willow's they do gather
Pinecones and nut's the both
Are used, eaten, and slathered

Tis
Their friends with the forest
Watchmen of Cimmerian adumbration
Not thy average native
Not found on t.v stations

They follow not the world
Nor the things of material crud
They gallop exposed
All unclothed painted in by the mud

Their mundunugu's and isangoma's
Their healer's of sickened loma's
Their future reader's
And old time Greeter's

They hash up balm pharmaceuticals
And mix in remedy anesthetics
Antibiotic doctors
Believer's in angelic medic

The pioneers come in
Scratching their heads
Bearing babies of far distance
Bringing disease with no end

They park their Vessels on edge
Of those wild men they call beasts
They plant their flag of hatred
And the redskin's are forgiving treat's

The ivory men draws gun
Whilst the natives draw their god
The pale man doth run
This is native land didst the whitened did trod

The natal men's Architect was stronger
Against the real true brutes
As the shaman sent home those foreigners
Back to England and Europe's coupé

As when the bleached beau's had left them
They went into different song
It goes like this
Please don't miss

These are the original's of the law!!!!

They Carol in fire hot dance...


Wee hee nah wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah

Wee hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah

Hey **!!!!!!!!
Kenshō May 2015
The ebony shade had cast a dark distance;
The depth of night would swallow echos whole,
Leaving no trail and no solemn mark.

But, a million delusions would rampant rage,
Ripping and tearing at an illusory cage.
One fine mark, between light and dark..

Clarity would tease its way through the shaded groves
And the branches would create a labyrinth,
Showing the light where to go.

To my heart and the center of the circle.
Where, on the hill, the sun rises purple.
And the lonely chant drifts off like smoke..
-
My morals are a patchwork
Stitched together from various other minds
A well worn quilt I wrap myself in for security
For blameless justification of a deformed belief system
Twisted and gnarled with an arthritis of the spirit
A hollow vessel made into a crock ***
Full of someone else's *******
Stirred by resentment
Stewed in fear and
Served with anger
To mask my ignorance and indifference
I have a reputation for trivialities
Snippets of soundbites
Subliminally soldered
Onto my sub-conscious
Where they acquire the character
Of authoritative wisdom
More pious than a prophet!
Holier than an ancient sage!
I am a 21st century shaman
A guru grifter
Embryonic episodes
Aborted for mass consumption
Over cocktails and hor dourves

— The End —