#prison-poetry - Hello Poetry

Shadowic heroic ornamental's, false breed's cometh as incense breather's betwixt lively instrumental's. Macrogram plaza's to abrahamic venue's. Caller's calleth upon themselves to saveth what is not theirs; Morning breath, to winter's dew, hath thou been born yet? Is the baby yet due? Constant pain's to loss taken gain's maketh brain's and vein's out of organically made flesh; becometh thine own creator, thou creed of selfishness. Anchor heavy soul dragged away by chain's of past forget-not's, wherein the ground stayeth hot to ruin moronic window's. Maketh thy bed of silvered spring's thy own rusted medieval pillow; thou grand ol' operatic theme, thou patriarch to a dream, Art ourn day's but a whisp of a second's last? Thing's hath cometh to the listening one, the earth's spinning to fast; the mechanism's now begun. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Prison writing's

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Dec 2, 2015

Dec 2, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC

brandon-nagley

Mosaic of virus ( old prison poetry reposting)

Shadowic heroic ornamental's, false breed's cometh as incense breather's betwixt lively instrumental's. Macrogram plaza's to abrahamic venue's. Caller's calleth upon themselves to saveth what is not theirs; Morning breath, to winter's dew, hath thou been born yet? Is the baby yet due? Constant pain's to loss taken gain's maketh brain's and vein's out of organically made flesh; becometh thine own creator, thou creed of selfishness. Anchor heavy soul dragged away by chain's of past forget-not's, wherein the ground stayeth hot to ruin moronic window's. Maketh thy bed of silvered spring's thy own rusted medieval pillow; thou grand ol' operatic theme, thou patriarch to a dream, Art ourn day's but a whisp of a second's last? Thing's hath cometh to the listening one, the earth's spinning to fast; the mechanism's now begun. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Prison writing's

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All yearling spring birds far from distant home, Xanthic in Gothic gospels soot and yolk, Where's one's soft spoken voice to calm me on the phone? Formidable pulses, The danger of convulsion's spread on like buttered oil!!! Enormity soil's the defendant delirium... Such agnostic aquariums stinkingly similar upstate! Broken lives to sunset drive, Specimen speckles, Forcible tassels hover one's decree!! Litigious locust's buzz creepingly, Indecently exposing all's funk!!! Concauctions of fake adoption's, Concievers break locks off trunks!!! Omit me out of this obdurate oasis, Wherein one feel's spacious, Free to cometh and goeth!!! Freedom doth thou know? Operatic Mrs and Mr's, Minuets for thy ridiculed wishes!! Ponderer of newness, Cleaner's as thy tub spills over, Thy heels click together just to get thy kicks!!! Hit the streets thou feathered bird of no beak, Thou tally marker of no means!!! Foreman to thy own people's idea's, Nourish me with a new novice, Nurture me with heartbrake hotel, Buildeth me a standing ovation of a one love palace!!! Brave heart fairytale, Doth thou stand to move about? Listener of radio tunes, Art thou close?? ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry

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Sep 25, 2015

Sep 25, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC

brandon-nagley

Fall springbird ( repost of old prison poetry)

All yearling spring birds far from distant home, Xanthic in Gothic gospels soot and yolk, Where's one's soft spoken voice to calm me on the phone? Formidable pulses, The danger of convulsion's spread on like buttered oil!!! Enormity soil's the defendant delirium... Such agnostic aquariums stinkingly similar upstate! Broken lives to sunset drive, Specimen speckles, Forcible tassels hover one's decree!! Litigious locust's buzz creepingly, Indecently exposing all's funk!!! Concauctions of fake adoption's, Concievers break locks off trunks!!! Omit me out of this obdurate oasis, Wherein one feel's spacious, Free to cometh and goeth!!! Freedom doth thou know? Operatic Mrs and Mr's, Minuets for thy ridiculed wishes!! Ponderer of newness, Cleaner's as thy tub spills over, Thy heels click together just to get thy kicks!!! Hit the streets thou feathered bird of no beak, Thou tally marker of no means!!! Foreman to thy own people's idea's, Nourish me with a new novice, Nurture me with heartbrake hotel, Buildeth me a standing ovation of a one love palace!!! Brave heart fairytale, Doth thou stand to move about? Listener of radio tunes, Art thou close?? ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry

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Where is that lover in the black dress? One not of worldly dispair, one of makeup made from queen like caress. Where is the string player? The dream slayer amongst devils of men, beyond cremation of friend's. For words art just meaning's of all seeming realities of cape fear! No desires ever met, for this one truest of death surely draweth near. Like liquid to the needle, like wings on the Beatle, air conditioned rooms made from doom, I bleed out prophetic tears!!! Images of ashy mascara currupts human time, queen of black, sits on back cracking fingers in glue like slime!!! An actualiser, say adieu to morning glory faces. Painted on places to canvasses of darkened boutique.... The administrator,a navigator gather all on cloudish cobblestoned paths, much more than an assembly.... Babiche laces rambling to the dark souled queens Victorian skin!!!! Axer thy taste towards her, the one owned by no one!!!! The one adored... She whistles to heartbrakes destruction...... ( la,LA,LA,LA....she's the only one awake amongst those who snore.... ©Brandon Nagley ©Prison poetry ©Lonesome poet's poetry

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May 9, 2015

May 9, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC

brandon-nagley

hidden amongst the black dress!!!!! by me brandon nagley( lonesome poets poetry)

Where is that lover in the black dress? One not of worldly dispair, one of makeup made from queen like caress. Where is the string player? The dream slayer amongst devils of men, beyond cremation of friend's. For words art just meaning's of all seeming realities of cape fear! No desires ever met, for this one truest of death surely draweth near. Like liquid to the needle, like wings on the Beatle, air conditioned rooms made from doom, I bleed out prophetic tears!!! Images of ashy mascara currupts human time, queen of black, sits on back cracking fingers in glue like slime!!! An actualiser, say adieu to morning glory faces. Painted on places to canvasses of darkened boutique.... The administrator,a navigator gather all on cloudish cobblestoned paths, much more than an assembly.... Babiche laces rambling to the dark souled queens Victorian skin!!!! Axer thy taste towards her, the one owned by no one!!!! The one adored... She whistles to heartbrakes destruction...... ( la,LA,LA,LA....she's the only one awake amongst those who snore.... ©Brandon Nagley ©Prison poetry ©Lonesome poet's poetry

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