#hooray
Certain Thoughts
Once Entertained
Bid HOORAY!
Then The Mind
Leads Not
ASTRAY!
DLR
12.11.2025
☼ ♡ ƸӜƷ ❀ ♬
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 3:24 PM UTC
I’m not checking his Instagram again
Not another time
He has liked other people’s posts
There’s nothing special with mine
We’re not thinking about him
At least we try not to show it
But it doesn’t get easy
You and I both know it
My mum and friends are against it
Again I’m out of my mind
It’s not that he’s bad
It’s just that I’m not like that in his eyes
Next time I walk past him I’ll try not to think
Of the million butterflies that I get near him
Next time I walk past him
I will be prepared
Not run away, not even be scared
Next time, I’ll just forget
That he makes me feel some kind of way
Next time, I’ll forget,
That only he can burn my brain cells in the sweetest possible way
So goodbye my dear
Goodbye to my infatuation
Goodbye to what we could never be
Goodbye to my imagination
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 4:27 AM UTC
Well there’s Hooverville
on the edge of the river
haint nuttin boot flimsy cardboard
e’en with clothes will shiver
waiting for tension to be released
like a arrow in a taut quiver
major organs ready to burst open
cuz day r all a failin'
unless salvation does da liver
from a stingy farmer
nada one of him a giver
Hence a goin to Cali for n’ya
in battered up truck n wailin wah wah
ta feed da chill n beasts o burr den –
‘cept un shaw
if me pa
will ever appear on Oprah
whar guest’s literary car –
rears into grand prix hoopla
An win free dim lifts us lock a hawk,
this kid rock will nah
dat he suffered faw a distant few cha
migrants we may be – butta we bah
dog on judas priest, Christ and allah
Rose of Sharon wool extend
da family tree
dat ma will live to see
re:
charging the Joad jalopy
in part from me
tink rin hands dat like ta mess
with oil hand stains
one mo scar – craning neck 2 earn
An huh tha red badge of courage
upon this Okie
hunched o’er with stiff back
while wounded knee
continually bunged up with utter glee
at engine cough fin smoke
to *** us free
whar we kin sally in da pacific fields yipeee.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday during month of May
can be traced back to ancient Greeks and Romans
festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday.”
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis (a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught entrapment also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
child bearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's imbolden
greeting card companies such as Hallmark gen
er rated a market (money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the ****** appetite of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed re
formed unsanitary living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where greater longevity doth hum
all because, she sought to regale "mum."
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
She dipped her fingertips in paint
And left her identity on my canvas
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
Man hast sought, and wilt seeketh,
Supernal treasure's until the
End of their day's;
I hath found the jewel
They seeketh; not wrought
By men's hand's, nor stored in some cave.
She's mine, all mine
So beast's goeth away;
She's mine, O' mine
rapturous hooray!!!
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
So I'm going camping—
Hooray!
I just hope I don't
Stay bored all day.
So I'm sleeping on hard ground—
Whoopee!
I just hope it doesn't
Get to me.
So I'm getting family time—
That'll be great!
The best thing that'll happen
Will be the memories we make.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC