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Sia Jane Apr 2015
A moonlit dance beneathe constellations
      not Taurus or Gemini, Delphinus or Orion
                 but stars we named together
                   linking lines from star to star
       hands pointing in air so cold
a tear falls and
                           another
  leaving a roadmap on my cheeks
            that you
                            chase
                           ­            chase
                                                  chase
   ­         lifting the palm of your hand
                 so cold to the touch I shiver
            feeling the beauty of my tears
         that glisten like Venus in the midnight sky
             of this cold Parisian night
  you smile in jest and
     I misplace the space
  between you and I and that sky
  whispering "do you love me?"
    how could I resist the beauty of
                 our second to last kiss.

© Sia Jane
Sour Apr 2014
Baucis and Philemon,
Elderly souls, never empty of
Love,
Opened their doors for two strangers,
Whom
Unbeknownst to them, originated from
Above.
Zues and Hermes, cloaked in the robes of the
Poor,
Were turned away from every household,
Until they rapped on Baucis and Philemon's
Door.
"Come in, come in, shed your cloaks, and warm your hands,
Baucis,
Go!
Use our last loaves, grab the roast, the ham!"

Never mind their
Poverty

Never mind their
Nearly empty
Pantry and Cupboards

Baucis and Philemon possessed the rarest trait,
One the God's most
Coveted.
And while the two strangers ate their foods, and consumed their
Wine,
Baucis noted their cups never lowered beneathe the
Brim Line.

"God's... Divine!"
Cried the two elderly
Lovers.
"Follow us up the hill, Baucis, Philemon,
Do not look back as you climb,
Only to each other."

The two followed the Gods, still cloaked in the garb of strangers,
Never looking back at their village
Below.
Until, reaching the top, and turning back, their eyes didn't fall back upon their
Home.

Zues had called forth a flood, sent to destroy the once ungrateful
Village,
But where Baucis and Philemons cottage once lay,
A beautiful temple had risen from the filthy
Sullage.

Their wish to take care of the temple was swiftly
Granted,
As was their second wish, one that was almost
Demanded.


"I must die, as soon as my love does, I can't ever be without her."


The rest of their lives were spent glorifying the Gods for their kindness and love,
And when the time came for them to take their last
Breath,
Squeezed hands and warm souls crossed the River Styx,
And their broken and withered bodies were
Left.

The wrinkles on their
Skin,
Were made brown, and beautiful
Again
As their flesh turned to bark, and their hair to
Leaves,
The two elderly lovers, became intertwining
Trees.
The mythological tale of Baucis and Philemon. This may be why I've found trees to be so beautiful.
Katlyn Orthman Jan 2016
Loneliness is a bitter monster
It sits on the edges of my heart
Pulling at the strings
The musical song echoes in the vacancy

My eyes belong to a lonely girl
Forlorn in her love and lost in her hopes
That maybe one day
Another heart would soothe that ache

Mourning over the sun fall
That bright, wide eye turns away too soon
And she is left empty
With the blind white eye of the dead moon

Tear stains tattoo her skin
And disapproval scars her heart
When will she be good enough
When will she be free

When will darkness stop taking over
When will the lightness win
When will heartache stop
Coming from the people I let in

When will my voice stop being crushed beneathe the sea?
When will the jokes stop pouring in and drowning me?
When will this life be over I'm tired of the fight
When will the dark surrender its sword up to the light?

Break the silence and hear this lonely voice
When did fear start taking over and become my only choice?
brandon nagley Oct 2015
The real me, the spiritual me, break's free
From mine corpse;
Stepping into reality.

A rushing sound filleth mine head
A popping sound, mine spirit's above mine body, aloft the ground; I'm dead.

I seeith the nurses, the doctor's art frantic
Mother's praying outside the door;
Father's nerves art shot, he's panicked.

I couldst heareth mother interceding to the lord
On mine own behalf, the operation was over;
Tis mine blood got cold and fast.

The scalpel was thrown into a glass
I heardst the surgeon's word's, we couldn't save him, we tried ourn best, I kneweth he didst all he can, he worked harder then the rest.

At that thought of mind, I shot through space and time,
In a tunnel I ended up in, mine sin's hadst crossed mine mind;
The wormhole I was in, was dark, at the end; a pinhole of light.

I felt none worry, distress, nor unease, I kneweth this was living, as I was floating, without walking nor running, an unseen presence carrying mine feet: I felt the calm and light warm me.

I hadst read of this, from mine Christian belief's, and the spiritual book's and video's I hadst studied; the other's account's were true of this tube, we move freely, towards the brightness with none toe's nor feet coming.

I ended up inside the light, it engulfed me, it taught me, this is where all wouldst be alright; I stood at a gate, not with Pearl's, but as other's saidst, Pearlescent by heavenly view and sight.

There were no demon's like at mine abode, no stress filled hour's, no Pain nor Human insight; I was met at the entryway by mine great grandmother whom hadst passed after me and mother left her side during her death.

Granny saidst Brandon " we hath been waiting for thee, I sawest generation's of mine kin; French, English, Scottish, Greeks, natives, swiss, Irishmen.

Mother's and father's side both, hadst known I was coming, their already aware, as the lord telleth them there, the time and dates of their loved one's succumbing.

I was overjoyed, none word's to slip mine tongue, here I was an adolescent of knowledge, though all I wouldst learn in big sum's;
I kneweth this was safety, rest, peace, I felt with mine loved one's as one.

Mine kin stepped aside, the one I've begged for help was in mine vision, he hadst three robes, ivory white- with a purple sash, there were holes still in his hand's, though his beauty burned bright on his father God's behalf.

His eye's were as flame's, though his amour' was overwhelming, I felt mine body as a tuning fork, vibrating with his brightness, as if this was his second coming, the universe was seen through his core.

He grabbed mine shoulder, we walked farther in, I felt none sense of time,no age limit just a frame of mind; where the young and unborn were, as well as oldened in age, there was aloud none sin.

The messiah showed me the street's paved with literal gold, something unseen back on planet earth, a place where a river of life floweth from God's throne, everything's sharper, senses heightened, as well as sight, sound, feel, touch, taste. Holy grace.

Color's, tints, hue's, all loud, everything was alive, LIVING, I was aware of all,whilst I heardst angel's singing call's, they sung different song's, yet on Earth a million song's together wouldst be nonsense, this place the music all perfectly was fused.

There were mountain's, Hill's, real mansion's built, as if an acid trip back on earth we wouldst conjoin with the planet in a false trip; here this was what was, amazingly struck me how all was one, no illusion's like earthly drug induced fantasies, no if's, and's, why's, or because. Though question's flickered through me faster then I couldst speak.

Here there was no need to move mine Lip's, telepathically we knoweth all, no brain needed, none memory enhancer's, no need to speaketh with human Lip's, thought's talk back and forth, though by free will we canst use ourn mouth if desired.

Christ took me into mine creator's throne room, the amazing part is God and christ art one, no comprehension of that back on the blue globe, beneathe the sun; as God sat down on a tall structured seat.

A river of life flowing out of his feet, inside were seraph's, cherub's, a divine meet, Christ was on mine right side like another story of a man I hadst read, I was living, Christ interceded for me, I was far from dead.

Mine great architect spoke living word's from his mouth, he was pure light, not as if the bulb in thy house, he shined, gleamed,he was the reason the third heaven needed no sun nor moon.

He spoke to me , " Brandon mine son, thy work is not yet done, continueth in love, though go telleth more of mine forgiveness and grace, telleth man to love another, and to respect their whole race; as tis at that moment I turned to Christ next to me interceding, the lord christ cried next to me, we must remember Christ took human form on earth, tis he kneweth the feeling of bleeding.

At that moment I was out of God's sight, Christ took mine hand and body back into the tunnel light, I flashed shot like a bullet into that tube out of sight, mine great-grandmother took mine finger's and locked them, and took me back to mine carrion, I didst not want to go back though god spoke the day and dawn.

I felt as a glove mine soul slip back into that cold corpse, mine pastor I heardst around me praying with part of the church;
Mother held mine hand next to me, dad I listened to saying this he didst not deserve; at that moment mine eye's opened.

Mother didst not knoweth I saweth her praying outside of the room when I was out of mine body, she held me, felt me, a child again I felt. I sensed mother's love again, as I told mine mother granny saidst hello, and she's waiting for thou to, and I told dad that his father couldst breathe once again, his cancer's not in heaven, that dad's father was renewed.

As still earthly being's I kneweth mum and dad didst not yet understand all the thing's of the bible art true;
As tis when I left the hospital I thought of the one's waiting for me, generation's of family, as I was waiting for them to.

As tis the memory hit me
Of Christ's Tear's;
How he crieth like men
How he Hurt's when he seeith us turneth against him
How O' how I remembered freshly the hole's in his hand's and feet. He told me to touch them, as he didst to his disciples
I remembered how I bowed
To mine Christ
Mine savior,
I remembered god his father's strong word's
"Telleth man to love one another"
As tis men art forgetting the reason why we art here;
To love.
To love one another is God's purpose.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
1Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. 2In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. 4And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.
John 14:1-3
Taz Apr 2018
Sitting on the board
anticipation gripping me
staring at the tiny waves before me
taking them easily
closing my eyes
I breathe
fingertips soaking beneathe
I breathe in the big wave
Opening my eyes to my surprise there she was
she was beautiful
gracefully slicing through the water to greet me
I kiss the wave with the nose of my board
she takes me up
I am having the ride of my life
the wave starts to curl and I dip down and rip under
splashing the water on both sides of me
the hole looks way too small to surf out
dipping lower I grip my toes
The wave closing in on me
Maybe she was too big for me
she quickly engulfs me
swallowing me whole
sending me crashing into the koral
pain searing through my body I reach the surface
the tiny waves now taking me back tumbling down
each blow sends me spiraling down
reaching the surface I take a huge breath of air
choking out water
reaching the sharp shore
crawling through the shells
grabbing the remains of my destroyed board
written by: Lauren Dolbow
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Coaxed,
Stoaked,
Citer of circumspect alley ways,
Ponderer of all circumference!!!

A lost shadow to a drawn out stage!!

Incurable nausea plants itself beneathe thine nose,
Beneathe thy finest thine Rose!!!

Thou fallen cut down trunk,
Thou Intel gatherer of recordings of political junk!!!

Thy mafiatic hardened heart's department hath closed for many seasons,
For many reasons thou art down and out again!!!

Old adversary,
Oldened friend!!!!

Undergraduate of no sporty coup'e,
No tripped up loop to sway thine interfacial structure!!!
No loving, all clutter, you inhale as you breathe,

Thou daytime innocent,
Thou nightly thief!!!!
Santiago Nov 2014
Love Overcomes
Love Becomes
Hate Never Prevails
Hate Always Fails
Upmost Sincere
Bonafide My Dear
Always Faithful
Simply Truthful
Stay Positive
Refuse Negative
Beauty Fades Away
Inner Beauty Pays The Way
Nobody Is Perfect
I Completely Understand
My Hearts In Abyss
Journeyed In A Twist
Clenching My Teeth
Trapped Beneathe
Ground Level By The Devil
A Rebel Fighting Off These Demons
Surviving Every Season
The Climate Is The Reason
Stipulating Treason
My Love Still Lives On
After Whats Said & Done
I'm Staying The Same
No Fun & Games
My Hearts Wide Open
Truth I Have Spoken
I Went & Came Back
Lost From The Tracks
A Blurry Vision
A Bias Collision
Nevertheless I'm In It For The Best
As You Rest On My Chest
You Whispered I'm The Best
Be Aware I'm Always There
Ready To Catch You
As You Fall I'm Right Beside You
My Words Are True
Smile When You Feeling Blue
Keep In Mind Someone Cares
When Your Alone & No Ones There
I Love You With Words & Actions
I Love You With Heart & Soul
I Love You With Mind & Body
One Of A Kind Like Nobody...
Just A Quick Poem To All You Lovers Out There
MaQuai F Jun 2015
Too many are loving without feeling.
Too many are speaking without thinking.
All easy things in life don't last & all that lasts aren't easy to come by...
It's the basics of the universe, to love and lost, to laugh & cry.
I am a writer. A writer that cannot find the words to write down this emotion. A writer out of many. I am not unique or special. I don't stand out. I'm just a writer with a head full of words and a soul full of feeling. I'm your everyday human.

Medically, i'm boring.
Socially, I'm entertaining.

I write while others sleep or fill their lungs with love.
I think while others talk.
I laugh while others cry.
I breathe while most stop.
I'm alive, weather it feels like it or not.

But, least importantly, i'm just a writer.
A writer with a head full of jumbled words and a soul filled with both love and hate. A body that feels numb and a heart for a home with a draft coming in due to little insulation. I'm a tad bit bitter, but aren't we all? I'm far from joyful, but most are now a days.

People change and so does this world.
People are at war with themselves.
People are disgusting.
But i'm a writer, not a person.
I'm a human, not a number.
But to most, i'm just there. Nearly the background music to their lives.

To me, I am a wall. No one gets in and no one can break it down. People have tried, but never succeeded.
I am damaged.
I am a writer.

To some, I am a friend.
To others, a stranger.
To very little, a lover.
To one, a hate.

But I am not any of those things.

I am flesh. Bare to the whole world.
Bare *****.
Take a peek inside, you'll see.

People say they're a lot of things. But realistically, in the end of it all, we're all dust intertwining in eachothers specks.
Holding hands as the ship goes under.
All claiming we're the captain.
Where'd the individuals go?

Well, i'm right here. Standing alone. Waiting for something that is actually nothing.
To me, I am an individual.
To others, I am everything else.
To the world, i'm almost non-existant.

I don't search for anything.


But for now, I walk this Earth like many others.
I am just your average person.
Just another writer.
I am just bones and flesh, covered by a sickening disguise.

People say beauty is everywhere, but that's only to the naked eye. Take a look around, you'll see.
Take a look around in me.
Beauty can't be seen by anything.
It's hidden beneathe the depths of the oceans and the heart of the world.
It's hidden within everything.
Beauty is out of reach.
The world is too covered to see it.
We made it this way.
We made this world ugly.

But what do I know?

I am just a writer.
Your average joe stranger.
I am your sleepless dream.
I am your weakness.
Your strength.
Your hate.
Your love.
Your entertainment.
But I am not yours.
I am not anybody.
I am me.

I am an individual and this is why I stand alone.
I am content.
I will manage.
The world will still spin round, once i'm gone.
Aswell as once we're all gone, because the world waits for no one.
©SeanaseaWallen 2010
Megan Grace Jun 2014
If I could track myself down
(go back to when I completely
lost myself in you) I'm sure I'd
be on your couch with that
white blanket and your
h  e  a  r  t  b  e  a  t
racingracingracing
beneathe my ear. How
does
it feel to sit there without
me now? I wonder if you miss
me, do you wish         you could call
me, do you wish you could kiss
my fingers like you used to? I
had a dream last night
that we got married
on a jungle gym.
I dropped some
books off on your
front   porch   and   I
wonder  how  you felt
when you saw them
there.  I  hope  it
hurt even just
a  l i t t l e.
brandon nagley May 2015
Coaxed,
Stoaked,
Citer of circumspect alley ways,
Ponderer of all circumference!!!

A lost shadow to a drawn out stage!!

Incurable nausea plants itself beneathe thine nose,
Beneathe thy finest thine Rose!!!

Thou fallen cut down trunk,
Thou Intel gatherer of recordings of political junk!!!

Thy mafiatic hardened heart's department hath closed for many seasons,
For many reasons thou art down and out again!!!

Old adversary,
Oldened friend!!!!

Undergraduate of no sporty coup'e,
No tripped up loop to sway thine interfacial structure!!!
No loving, all clutter, you inhale as you breathe,

Thou daytime innocent,
Thou nightly thief!!!!
brandon nagley Jun 2015
For I'm not as all the other beasts thou humans doth know
I'm a freakish guru
Dancing the flame
Beneathe the moon
With feathers to garb me
As if a falcon
Soaring free
From body to soul
SO HIGH!!
A Lopez Apr 2016
The problem
With
Poli-
Tricks-
They mention every
"God"
But the only
God-
And they wonder
Why their lost in
Misery-
Ashamed
In darkness
Falls- evolution
In schools
Meaning no
(Morals)
Their standards
Are that
man's a
Monkey, using
Euthenics( reviving ******) in their
Man-made
Mural's.
Eat your cereal
Live life as if we have the
B
L
I
N
D
E
R
S
   ON-
Though my eye's are
Uncorrupted ( not seeing through misty nighttime glasses)
Breaking to the other
Side
Of the
Fog-


    Science correlates with dios
And dios with science-

Yet popular belief
Is a tool
Of diablo's
Machine.

Reaching into the dome
Of the great
City-

Where America
Is astray
With the globe
In the horned one's
Mean's.

Has the man who said
There is no
God
Just walked out into nature-

To see the spectacular
Creation
On a universal
Scale?

Yet their bucket's of
Disbelief have been
Shown beneathe the
Veil
Where the impious
Are stale
And their
aspiration
Is
None!
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Whenever I eateth with the trolls
From behind mine apartments
( the ones from the woods)
They always slip beneathe me
And eateth the crumbs that I drop

( probably just because their to short for a table)
Ha!!
brandon nagley May 2015
Title-out of place- by meself.   A boor I am to peasantry's sultry disgrace, cargo to be tended, I subsist unamended, how childish I play these games. Liquer buds, saltine love crumbles beneathe day room lock-outs! Eyes stare ablazed, the hued sunset repeadily turns masterpiece of horrid honeymoons idealistic and realistic to discussions seeming strange. Partial bodies secrete the grassed out hills, morning calling awaits.,,,,,
brandon nagley May 2015
This convalescence eases on slowly,
Coy acuteness craves the longing contentment!!
No resentment, as I walk high heel to booted lace!!!

Creditor, to whom Didst thou pay thine debt?
Or is thy debt still owed?

Curiosity is crowched beneathe the delinquency of fendid demagogues!!
Mortar of temples and synagogues,
You chief cornerstone!!!
You guru with no  home,

Curvature of decadence delineates your demeaning haste,
Open up taste the taste, and heed thy view!!!

A must programmed to turn muteable,
A mourner for me and you.

Omniscient angels raistheth me above the mountains peaks,
Where the strange instruments are observable,
And lovers are loveable,

As your kin she will be to be more than distraction!!!!
Butch Decatoria Dec 2015
The city's a blur
ceasless
as the rotation of night
into speeding flight...
a parallax.

This town's deranged
greasy
like the hands of perverts
afterhours.


I don't understand
that you're still here,
Mystere'
while nothing happens
in this billboard valley
with its mannequin loves
and ****** students;

nothing comes of this
dustbowl
with Christmas blinking in the center
and promises on the cusp
of learning / curves
say Huh?

I know, you say
there's a fabulous place
beneathe
the buzzing web of profits
its busy electric streets
business of passing feet

a wonderful niche
besides
the lions and tigers and Cher
(Oh My!)
secrets only you would know
of its afterglow
because you call it

home.
Sin city as the muse
Katlyn Orthman Jan 2016
I took a note of the serenity
The peaceful quake of silence
The candid chatter of simple thoughts
And those eyes

I fell head first into those romantic chasms
A regal beauty dwelled inside
Swimming in the complexity of those orbs
Always examining

Taken by the deep green mirrors
A perfect image of a rainy forest
They drizzled with a wisdom
Beyond

So very beyond this human earth
Transcending into the deepest means of matter
Into something that takes form
But no meaning presented to such simple beings

An enigma in those eyes
Watching with such jagged edges
They cut like the smoothest blade
A bittersweet injury

One may fall captive
Beneathe the brush of those black lashes
To the tops of rosy cheeks

And the mischievous grin
Which up turns such wicked lips
brandon nagley Aug 2015
i

Mount Malindang calleth me, it showeth me mine queen is there
She resteth up upon the greenery, picturesque perfect, I stare;
Inside the emulsion picture, her smile paint's the walls with red
Red for the love she engulf's me in, as roses align her sloped bed.

ii

Sketched on is her hairdo, beehive swathed, fairy tale written
Her wing's hath Baguette's, as tis the Baguette's art from heaven;
Comely she supplyeth, a king's every need's, as tis amour' we feed
Companied she warm's me, swarms me, ourn amare to all leak's.

iii

Concourse of the multitude, gathering beneathe ourn sloped hut
Ourn roof may be a little leaky, though ourn affection wilt fill up;
As tis we our a abode to ourselves, no straw mansion needed
A Convocation of cheribum watcher's, protect us in rainy season.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©,あある じぇえん
O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And he that dyed and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.
Butch Decatoria Apr 2016
... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over
façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneathe it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / the curtain / is unseen, but what if ...

... the truth and process to what presently one sees
or believe
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfelt under layers & layers
of trial and errors / contempt?
      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile and devilish wicked secret ?
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath

to prove that swan-lake
a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song timely hummed & remembered well
priceless history murals' on passing face
all spoken thoughts performing down the lace
      define yourself, how the flight of life from embers
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with grace,
it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...
brandon nagley Jun 2015
I misseth her in daylight
I misseth her beneathe thy moon
I misseth her at dusk
Buried in ourn tomb
Misseth her in voice talk
Wherein us two did laugh
I misseth her sensual voice
To make angel trumpets blast
I misseth her caressing
The way she made me smile
The way she showed me heaven
An unborn unearhtly child
I misseth her lifeform
Not d.n.a to any men
A seraphim and cheribum
A lifeblood
Mine kin
I misseth her funny ways
How she doth make me chuckle
Now she's gone forevermore
And this heart is broken buckled
Maby she won't forget me
Maby tis
She'll cometh back
I'll forever Love mine baby
Tis
That's a fact!!!
Shula E Nov 2011
I licked his lips
They tasted of stale women
Of rivers of wine
Nights of the sound of her dissatisfied sighs.
You tormented heart
Twisting violently to fit the shape of her mold
Pleading for a miraculous flame in the bitterness of her cold
Flecks of blood form here From shards Of
your shattered heart here on my tongue
letting the corpses of its decaying music evaporate into coarse negligence
As if it had never been sung.
Scorned. you weep on my body
My fierce warriors spirit
Frail shoulders attempting to bear the brunt of your past.
Assure you of your beauty and that of the man beneathe the mask.
A tear sneaked out your eye and into my mouth. but i cant drink you in… find a way to get out
Run for your life into the future stop drowning your soul in the river
s of wine
brandon nagley May 2015
Title-out of place- by meself.   A boor I am to peasantry's sultry disgrace, cargo to be tended, I subsist unamended, how childish I play these games.
Liquer buds, saltine love crumbles beneathe day room lock-outs! Eyes stare ablazed, the hued sunset repeadily turns masterpiece of horrid honeymoons idealistic and realistic to discussions seeming strange.
Partial bodies secrete the grassed out hills, morning calling awaits.,,,,,
brandon nagley Jul 2015
We shalt Noel ourn favorite aria
A chorale of valiant rendezvous,

Overcome by ourn setting sun
Enchanted by ourn moon,

Fixated and elevated, by flying bolide's in the empyrean
Statue's of us to be built, with ourn amour' as its coliseum,

Dozy by ourn ardor spree, worn out from long heartfelt night
Covering eachother with balm, mollified by ourn spice...

The birds to maketh their fly-by, the bugs to creep on foot
The sand beneathe ourn locked feet, touched by the soot....

Her head on mine chest, as this she Whisper's ( I loveth thee mine rey)

I whisper back (I loveth thee more, reina of mine heart's display)




As tis
The passer-byers witnessed two angels lost in the moment
Forgetting the world ever existed...

Looking into eachother's extraterrestrial pupil's!!!!!
Rey is king in Spanish and reina is queen in Spanish... So you know ():
Butch Decatoria Apr 2016
You are
worshipped
like a regal gilded thing,
charismatic and proud
you are

A people pleaser
with a stern strength
like stone
a face
within a smile
which outshines and belies
the mysteries beneathe
kept well away
those closest
have the faintest of clues
the best of you
learned & removed
A people pleaser

And still
they run to you
in babbles
in gaggles
in herds
to catch you speak
songs of birds
nightingale
hyperkind words
that lift
hope and fallacies
your friends far from plenty
a people pleaser
And still

They covet the time
when you christen the dusk
full of stars and its dust
in their weeping eyes
shower you with adolation
gifts of virgins
virtues
or savage relations
They covet the time.

You are
their lord of lush
their harbinger of pleasures'
promise
a great septre
to baptise them
of sin
release
You are

A man
in a crowd,
pulled in all directions
loud in your reflections
fair to those you meet
shelter them
those heavy
with concrete
streets
A man

And how a man becomes king
your passion and touch
which outshines and belies
lost lust
and a wuthering
heart
of lions
if only they knew
of what I know
of you
with me
we start anew
I am the evidence
another apostle
disassembled
apart I'd
die
unknown
how change is noticed
like a shadow
underfoot
or a deed behind a grin
a footnote
of your transformation
a light
within.
Eye am the evidence
How a man becomes
                                      King...



*(Love is the crown
and you are chosen...)
Edit version from original found in www.writerscafe.org/poeticfluffer.
A Lopez Aug 2015
i want to coadjust
deep beneathe your lense
i want to sense robust
can we not pretend?
I dont need a fob
only something that lasts
i met hearts of stone
mine breaks to fast
your flux is pretty damning, partial to the core
go away from me
is what you said
now im happier than before.
midnight prague Oct 2010
why do I welcome such ignorance
faulty and young
I have simply lost sense of direction
fleeting down dark paths
you make me smile
when you walk further
and so fast

into me
it has to be with that
that in which lacks knowledge
because if not
this entire situation wouldnt exsist
and a woman like me
must expeirence this


whos nature is it that I cross in where Im not familiar with anything
and my forest is a mystery to you
but we walk in iresponsibly
and the natures mix
and when I look at you while the leaves are falling all around us
my skies reign down on your land
and we shake the ground beneathe us
I feel as if your earth that I wrap with my skin
will eat me whole


the air becomes thicker as the burning branches come falling down
smoke suffocates me
and my neck is falling back
Im breatheless
Im speechless
if communication was my only form of survival


I would hold my tongue


for tampering with a such a natural disaster
will lessen the beauty
when now you can stand in the middle,
I am in the middle
and I am witnessing
the destruction we are causing to our planets

the ground breaks
and I finally fall between the cracks
laying there
satisfied.
brandon nagley May 2015
Sardonic savory armors against midnight shift,
Scrapbooks made from scrawny writings,
Wherein science is religion,
Some are hit and miss!!

Scowling, surely overcrowds happy intentions,
Noone mentions the fetal positions overthrow!!

Window peepers gaze between one another,
Serpent sermons drumline strong to song's of shipment sufferance,
Where thine utterance is grieved more than thou has ever felt!!!

More than the fall membrane beneathe your feet you shall blow!

Doth thou roll amongst forge stone?
Amongst the shows that made thou the mime thou art today../

A smile upon your cloak,
Yet thy finest of coats is in all disarray...

Perforaters try harshly to subdue our mother like peons,
Formulaic bringons,
Or turn one to sickened ones alike!!!!

Chasers of cognizant, bringers of fatality,
For doth thou chooseth to have life?
Megan Grace Aug 2014
you  liked   t h e
way  i   pronounced
"bloodflood,"  all  clean
syllables,  made  me  say
it­ three times for you while
you ate  your  sandwich.  you
said you mostly  mumbled  and
thought no one could understand
you but, god, i did. every eyebrow
wiggle had a  paragraph  beneathe
its surface, every smile was a  song
you   hadn't    written    yet,   every
thumb  stroked  on my cheek was
a promise of forever. you always
made   perfect   sense   to   me.
every time someone likes my poem "Wednesday" it reminds me of the day that i wrote it
brandon nagley May 2015
I am as that old book the librarian hides away,
Beneathe the back of the hall of records,
Only wanting and needing to be read,
Opened,
To feeleth another soul turn me page by page!!!!

Seeing not just mine cover,
But the plot of me,
The preface which most ignore,
And thy end!!
I want one to connect with me that oldened book hidden on that lonesome shelf the oldened librarian forgot of...
I want one not just to read me whole,
But to connecteth to mine soul,
As mine words to her do come to life....

Page by page....
brandon nagley May 2015
Lord,
These fateful deductions of air molecules flutter,
Noone utters their thoughts passed out on plates!!

Peaches traded for wakes of full moon glow,
Creatures cometh from beneathe,
The Beelzebub waits on hold,
Scrolls not sold,
for the ambrosial father tightens his glistened box!!!!

Where shangri-la waits to open,
No hellion can chooseth his stop!!!!!
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Exquisite inferno grip,
Canst thou holdeth mine hand and bringeth me adjacent to thine legs...
To locketh ring finger's
Connecting brain's.........
I shalt awaiteth as a ghost to his lost widow....
I'll bury mine head
Beneathe thy pillow
Longing back for thy affections....
Spiritual ressurection.....
As thine genious psyche is turned on just from me hiding.....
Though thou shalt let me out
A mut from his crate,
We shalt be sedated on fine date
Drunken by allegiance not in hallucinogenic form
But in authenticity's greatest law....
Kurt Schneider Jan 2015
Flightless mincemeat waiting for the ****,
 
by farmers plow,
 
below the till,
 
a stir about,
 
an upward ******,
 
up through the earth new life is pushed,
 
through valleys low and skies abound,
 
their colors shake the hardened ground,
 
a life among the stars aglow,
 
Their fate, it lies beneathe the snow.
Written Feb 2013

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