you may not know me
face to face,
but you and I have connected
heart to heart through words.

Our lives are woven together by
the tapestry of words,
and into a living breathing poetry.

you and I are no longer strangers,
but fellow poets and sojourners
on this journey of creation.

My wild and doll-like mannequin
Cast in the light of lovers' moon
A sculpture wrought of waxen skin
To keep eternal beauty bright
Her likeness in your eyes tonight
Does make this lover swoon

Come come my sweet and dance a while
Beneath the light of lovers' moon
Yet still my love thou does recoil
And fear my heart as tho' once felt
Might cause your waxen heart to melt
My love for thee is doom?

Make haste my love for sun's first light
Will plunder light of lovers' moon
Despoiling of our loves delight
As warmth embraces waxen skin
To make a formless mannequin
Too soon my love too soon

Alas my love you leave a fool
Once bathed in light of lovers' moon
Now standing by a waxen pool
To sculpt a candle in your name
That burns with your eternal flame
To guide me to my tomb

What Hope Remained?

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
        As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
        With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
        And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
        As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
        To scale a void devoid of dawning light.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        For those in sight of angels heaven sent
        Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.

        When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
        To gift last hope to all who saw their might:

                What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
                Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.



In The Fall

I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,

And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall

Before it plummets earthward --   'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.

        I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
        Did he derive the meaning of it all?

It was loveless, lost and seldom planned,
Penned obtuse in steady hand,
We dreamed aloud as old men lied,
Then took their place as old men died,
And lay with what hope we could ration,
Drawn away in stiff staccato fashion,
To another dismal city street,
Holding on with trembling feet,
As time still breaks us, all we know,
Keep faith in loss and letting go,
This sacrifice, once worth the cause,
Now only good for cheap applause,
But maybe somewhere chance still carries on,
To catch on to us before we’re gone,
As we color outside limits and lanes,
Seeking freedom from these rusted chains.

i.

In sheol, I lifted mine view atop me; wherein the cave was a dreary scene, fixture's and antique beam's screamed of the hopelessness in this sump.

ii.

A preternatural shimmer, bursted this chthonic picture; the demon's betwixt me and her hunched. Her brigandine of Filipino shine, yoked into mine synapse.

iii.

Mine carrion shook, into the nook's, she slipped me through sheol's crack's. The earth above, I was taken up to, seeing all, I felt a calm, from this seraphim of tribal awe.

iv.

She saidst " Brandon ive come, to giveth thee mine protection " I felt a rush of her touch; direct ressurection. I healed instantaneously, as mine soul finally found it's other half.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/Filipino rose