#lonesomepoetspoetry
Welkins so melancholy, welkin so gray,
How mine isolation dost mock me; for
Only the lonesome make sharu fotay.
Bedchamber so hushed, bedchamber of many tears; how I feel thy ivory paint,
How I feel thy pain here.
Hallway so narrow, hallway that breathes, O' hallway, O' hallway, listen when I sing.
Grab mine hand, O' hallway of mine abode,
Mine feet do walk quietly, on thy carpet; thy soul.
Spirit O' spirit, how heavied thou art, soon shalt thou depart; for the world is to much.
Mine skin yearns for kisses, mine fingers for touch, O' many hath wishes, guess I ask for to much.
Mine hair screams loudly, to be caressed, ruffled. How gray art the welkins; when a poet's love is muffled.
Mine hand tis weak, from not having ones grip, mine lips chapped; no wetness
Nor mist.
Mine dance is off, with none holding of hips, mine glance is off; eyes pained
By watching worldliness.
Mine old worn out ninety-sixties Beatles boots art worn, tired they mourn; they've
Walked many miles; on trails I've turned.
They've walked through streets, where dope addicts fiend, I've been that pusher, that user in scenes.
I've dreamt, I've dreamed, hath had many emotions; with mother and dad, I've smoked and mind opened.
Mine hope in God strong, unearthly, outspoken; I'm here on thy globe,
To bring hope to the hopeless.
Mine garb is bygone, outstandish, I'm Irish, Scottish, two types of native American Indian blood; Chickasaw-Choctaw,
From mother's generational flood.
A Greek man's inside me, one of biblical times, with french royalty, even Charlemagne, is connected to
Family of mine.
As well french power, and kings and queens, emperor's, empresses in mine relations; who ruled Rome with
Maximus, and around
Constantine.
With pilgrim cruor from England, that came here on ships; on the Mayflower they traveled, to this place of new bliss.
Even tis I am Swiss, these art mine bloodlines, O' how mine souls old,
A gold refined.
This is me O' Lord, thy lonesome son,
O' this is me God, thy writer
Of love.
Welkins so melancholy, welkin so gray,
How much longer O' loneliness; til
Thou shalt go away.
Tonight, O' tonight, shalt be silence once again;
Thus the dream of being held, is just
A thought with none end.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
Downtown on Mainstreet, a sarcinarious empty feel, Mr.
Jones, so cold, alone, once
Hadst a home, sold his
Life for a bottle, clear
Liquid his daily meal.
Nothing in his touch but biker
Bars, where women art strung
On pills, men nightly jailed,
Life plans for prison bars,
Knives for cuts, and dope
For cars; This side of the
Street was where the
Dealers art star's.
Mr jones once a high-degreed
College lad, moved out of his
Home, he became the unknown,
Dropped out of public vision,
Traded knowledge for rich
Men's wishes, worked in
High elite positions, a man
Of superstitions, once a time
His pockets rolled with
Hundreds and fifties,
Now his clothes smell
Of cheap wine, as his eyne taste
Of death; now a holes in-
Side of his chest.
Dreaming one day, on the side
Of the cement, a being of grace,
Not of human race; an angel of
God to Mr.Jones was sent.
"Mr. Jones", the Angel didst whisper, I came to let thee knowest, im thy guardian Mr; for God almighty hast sent me to thee, to show thee second chances do exist, and sir im not make believe, mine light is God's kiss.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 8:10 PM UTC
Lonesomeness hits after the midnight hour; as the more
Lonesome it gets sitting still
As a flower, wanting mine
Petals to be felt.
Wanting mine spirit uplifted,
Aye, mine smile to return.
Still a boy I am inside this man,
A creature who hast seen
Prison cells, where devils
Cringe and yearn.
An afterhour bard,
With a cloudy wind
Creeping betwixt his
Window pane.
me synchoreíte,
The child inside me
Is peeking once
Again.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
Americana, fair Madonna, tell me what's become of you; star's so bright, your war's are polite, as your ripped flag's red, white, and blue. Oh bountiful cities, mountain-told villages; starlit pillages foreshadow your deathly paths. Some books hold secrets, while cake candles burn tricks to cigarettes of nuclear blasts! Afterthought you are oh country tis of thee; so blessed in your filth, your kilts are images of projected misery. Find an Alcove you castleview kings; your tongues will soon be silenced to the non-mindsense you care to bring! Resemble with eachother patriarchs of hatred; national to all stations, you are the one in control. Forget what mother told you? Did you already sell your soul? Instant inhumanness; gratitude for filthiness, they feel for girly magazines. Rescind your rhetoric you false entity of enemies kings. Perch behind the clouds where the guard's can't get you; where pharaoh's confront you, only God knows all time! Subjection to viewest bozos behind bar-reason rhymes. Where are you angel of light? I see your face; or have I taken your place?
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©prison poetry
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 6:01 PM UTC
O' mine matrinae dialette,
How sweet thou dost
Sleep, as thy dreams
Catch me by a net.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
Are we doing time? Or is time doing us all equally; what a disgusting question to ask such an unpaid slave. Where snow falls tear dropped to all snaggled brains. Do-rag heavies, untamed, unashamed, levees to be breached; young one's to teach to not come where we are. Where the bird's meet the bars, where men and women leave in cars, as we shall not. Where emotions run dry, smoke runs high to clouds that don't stop. Share with another you selfish generation; you greedy of celebrations, you hold to God no feast. Six-six-six is your name, fires your game, as on your knees you worship the beast. Blizzard time sledded children's fun; is none to be found, just shackles around to frighten your inner cold. All stories here go untold; for you are apart of that story.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©prison poetry/written in prison dec 6th,2013.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 9:00 AM UTC
Just an antediluvian,
Stuck between heaven and hell;
Waiting on mine saviors call,
To escape this carousel.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 9:58 AM UTC
Takest me to the empyrean
Juncture; where none tears
Do ever fall, where human
Heart's never puncture.
Takest me to the railway,
Where men art free,
vunestasleek;
unfettered
Hands.
Takest me where eternal
Water's art sipped by
The daughter's of
Holy men.
Takest me to glory's
Roof, loves not aloof;
In the kingdom of
Saint's.
Takest me, O' takest
Me, where no-one
Screams, where
No blood is seen,
Where life's not
Faint.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
i.
Miracle baby
Cometh from
The hand
Of paradise;
ii.
Miracle lady
Cometh from
The land
Of turquoise sea's;
iii.
Miracle queen
Sleepeth sweet
Tonight;
iv.
Miracle angel
I am thou;
Thou art me.
v.
Miracle cherub
buss me in thy
Bathe;
vi.
Miracle lass
Forget thine
Past; now we're
In today.
vii.
Miracle gift,
Mine heart
Uplifts, when
Thou art near;
viii.
Miracle Jane,
In pleasure
Or pain; thy
King shalt be
right here.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
When Satan cometh knocking
Hand him a cross;
He always run's away.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Je vais lui envoyer tous les miens amour 'de onciale, en les faisant flotter dans une bouteille sur la rivière, tous les jours ça me fait peur elle va disparaitre, parce que quotidiennement pour son cœur de la mine groweth plus grand, et tout mon coeur devient plus gros, la mienne âme soupire pour elle de plus, je ne l'ai jamais senti ce sentiment, que pour le mien vie passée mi amour '... Alors, quand la bouteille atteint aux rivage, et quand elle picketh il, je prayeth pour obtenir une bouteille de retour, dans laquelle son amour doth remplir jusqu'à .... et si elle ne reçoivent pas l'amour mienne bouteille remplie, je flottais en descendant le fleuve, je seras floateth mineself bas cette rivière, même si je dois essayer de noyer pour la reine mienne .... et si cette bouteille don 't vient à terre, le corps au moins mine, elle saura que, si tous ces poèmes ne montre pas, pour moi tis amour pour elle était réel
( french dialect)
( English translated)
I'll send her all mine amour' uncial's, by floating them in a bottle down the river, daily it scares me she's gonna dissapear, because daily for her mine heart groweth bigger, and whilst mine heart gets bigger, mine soul longeth for her more, I've never felt this feeling, only for mine past life mi amour'... So when the bottle reacheth the shore, and when she picketh it up, I prayeth to get a bottle back, wherein her love doth fill it up....and if she don't get mine love filled bottle, I floated down the stream, I shalt floateth mineself down that river, even if I have to drown trying for mine queen ....and if that bottle don't cometh to shore, at least mine body will, than she'll know, if all these poems didn't show, for tis mine love for her was real....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry....
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
Shes simply.....
****
Sweet
A delight
Heavens treat...
A cherub,
A serpahim,
A chariot
Of heavens plum....
A cheribum,
A reader,
An angel
Past life soulmate and mine greeter...
One of woes
And stressed
Worries
She invests in...
Thinketh to much just as me
For tis I'm her,
For we art free.
She's unbound to worldly knowing
She's her own show...
Halo on her head
Close thine eyes when she glows!!!
Though open thy eye's
When thou want to seeith,
Everything heàven offer's
She healeth me when I bleedeth...
She's, mine
Mi amour
Mi amare
Mine child
So fair,
Alluring
Appealing,
Charming
Dazzling,
Delicate
Delightful
Elegant, fragile
Insightful,
Helper
Of others,
Sister
Lonely
As her feathers...
She hast wing's
She flappeth them at night.
When her moon cometh out
Her worries turn bright.
Gorgeous
Graceful
Giving
Unwasteful,
Marvelous
Pleasing
Maketh me wait
She's teasing
Splendid
Stunning
Superb
Poetic words of her's art flowing and running.....
She turneth me on
She maketh me see
Everything I wanted before
In a lost boys dreams...
Though I've told thee
I kneweth her from lightyears away,
When wilt she maketh me hers?
I guess I'll have to wait ..
Though I'm not patient,
For her I shalt be....
Because that's true love...
Waiting on thee......
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
Whilst everyone leaveth her
By herself and alone...
I shalt not walketh away
For she is mine home...
And without that abode
I haveth no foundation,
For amour' is made by spirit.
Not human translation!!!
As the translating hast been hidden
From mankind...
Yet we art not them
Not thy own kind....
We were sent here
To teacheth thee grace....
The world we've become disgusted to,
As thou hath killed thine own race...
Yet with her I am im in place
Smiling she maketh me daily....
I couldst never walketh away
From mine cheribum baby!!!!
©brandon nagley-
©lonesome poets poetry
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
A standstill!!!!
The planet's spinning out of control!!!
Mistaken identities are non friendly!!!
A false temple shalt be erected
The saviors ressurected
For didn't thou heareth?
No more sadness
No more tears
To famish a costly spirit!!!
Open murderer's
Wilt **** with a smile
The land of the old
And persecution's trials
Wilt shake!!!!!
Trembled cake!!!
No layers of good taste!!!
A volcanic comeback
For all to see,
As the fish and the trees
Come to their boil!!!!!
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
He broke her innocent barrier
Now she can't get enough
She's addicted,
Shhh...
Secret stuff
();;;
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
Misty hair
Of angels fair
Cimmerian astrals
To kings and empress's
Slaves to eachother
For as god to be the watchmen
Snow white
Of Spain
Calling
Her king again
Shy
But as for him
All open
In back door hush-hush
For their marble's meet
In focus!!
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
Cold chills
Shed through
The sick move
In most nonchalant of ways
Time here seems to hold itself
In most futile sickest of bays
How beautiful
Are the smiling faces
When they shalt appear
Some move faraway
Some destitute
To stay here
What dont they tell thou
When thou arriveth
To this castlenest boutique?
That worries wilt go far
What awaits thou
Are the pukenend sheets!!!
Disillusion thy own party goers
Thy touch
Hast been lost to moonshine elliptical
And thy stones of divers toss!!!
Shruggers are raider like
Craters are from no advice
Wherein viking critics
Are systematically nice!!!!
Entertaining wilers
Are subject to falsifications own Warden!!!
All receipted
All burden
To clear away
The memories
Thou once forgot!!!
Now remember
Remember all those difficult ways
Thou once knew!!!
Burdenful crimegivers,
Thou masked conviction
And shrew!!!!
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
A weary face stares back at us all
Giants grow tall
Where the small minded are casted!!!
All concepts to be trapped in
Our man made prisons!!!
Such derision is unanswered!!
The garden men and planters
Make grow all thou conceives today
Love seekers to slaves,
What's the difference in its core?
Some cry out for extras
While Heartbreakers take more!!!!
More of nothing left
A thief to every theft
A liar per every aching tongue!!!!
Unappeasable audiences
Bookies seek out bondmaids
For their own completion!!!!
So cunning
To these lust cumulaters!!!!
Electrode pulses
Bypass what's become of us,
Eristic flumes
Travel fluctuating rooms
Wherein keyholes haveth no fit
Acidic spit
Lines the dried out mouth's
They gaze
They count
But add nothing to their foulard writings!!!!
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
These graffiti walls lead us down hallways where grown men and young are both so alike, down to the oasis, Wherein brothers are nameless,
Yet still shalt save thy life!!!
Where grown men cry
To prison lullabies
Where tears are stream of joy!!!
Approached by staff
As thou wilt feel cut in half
Yet their love thou won't avoid
How lovely are all thy souls
Thou blue wearing sharades,
I look to all the strength
As thou shalt all wake
To turn another page!!!
I'll seeith thou at the oasis
In such a holiday time like this,
Wherein handshakes are welcome
Loneliness goes unspoken
But thy brother shalt clean thine own dish!!!
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Broken communication
Between two lovers
Comes in silently
When the other one walks away..
Yet,
Whilst I see it happen to others
It all could of been avoided
They could have just listened to another!!!
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
I miss Christmas time
When grandmother of greek blood
Showered us in ham gravy
And gaveth me love
As at that time
No one did mutter
No bickering
With eachother
Just tiding's of what's true!!!
A family of beau's
A household of many
No talking
None
Or few
For I must tell thou,
For Greeks are quite talkative
By nature!!!
As the cranberry sauce endeared us
The mashed potatoes were Greek in lust
And spirits were many
And happiness is trust
Henthforth
I miss it soo much!
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
Diacetylmorphine descry optics....
Let me ride
That cool warmth curlicue tide,
Flood me with poised finesse
Thy words to get me high!!!!
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
The world just seeith
Flesh
Blood
And bones
As ones being appearance
Tis,
I seeith ones soul on the inside..
Unlike the rest of thy world!!!
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
Anyone canst be a interweb lover
Yet whilst thou make it a reality?
Anyone canst be a typewriter buddy,
Yet whilst thou pick up thy fingers and dial?
Such a loss and disconnection this world has taken on as a mask!
Hopeless romance!!
Watching the world slowly commit suicide....
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Native nations,
Tune in thy television stations,
For thy lands up for the taking!!!!!
Hath thou been mistaking your materialist flaw for gods and goddesses?
For what hath thou missed?
Oh pitiful tyrents...
This land was stained with the migrants you soo call foreign!!!!!
Gun's thou taketh up as thugs with crime obsession,
For didn't thine prophetics mention of thy grave thou shalt go??
No!!!!
No periwinkle there to flow,
No narcotics to currupt you!!!
No directional staffs to guide you,
For you chaseth the wartorn path!!!!!
Where hell cannot be divided in math nor numbers!!!
Just gnashing of grotesque teeth,
Come on in,
Wash thy feet, the stratosphere shall rip into a billion colors!!!!
None help from thine sister and brother,
For you've turned thy own back!!!!
Just a ditch place with clasps and shackles will become thine new order!!!!!!!
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC