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brandon nagley Dec 2015
When her soul's in pain
Verily I bleed;
Tis because we art soulmates
Soulmates indeed.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Keith J Collard Mar 2014
Voracity is the centipede,
hunting in a-downhill-bleed,
pull what you think is a string,
to pitch your tent,
feel the centi clench,
and incision of dopamine,
your esophagus that screams,
could have had the segments and seams,
harking back to when the earth was steam,
when night jungle shines upon it,
with a red lens,
as it devours a tarantula,
adding a segment to its length,
sense the kinship,
sense the progenitor strength,
turn your red light on,
see the red esophagus of black chiton,
run for the zenith,
before the apex makes you bleedeth,
let your bayonet it bite on,
drop in alchohol,
and as a dragon,
it will soar and fight on,

beware the apex,
only the mountain,
set your sights on,
beware the early esophagus,
of red-neon, black chiton.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Sunny day's may be sunny
Yet inside always so dark.
Cars all parked
Like rows to chapels lonesome way's!!!

Deleterious,
Nothing hilarious,
For thy eyes turn unfazed!!!

A deluge of no accomplishments
All walls stand to fail,
All ceiling's to crumble
No more derogatory jails!!!!!

Despondency roaming the brick street of the old
No desposters
No more voters to trade papers
For young and who they mold....


Thine denizen of thy own class
Doth thou passeth the bill of health?

Art thou truly alive?
Canst thou  SAVETH thyself?

Think not that thou art free,
Thou eateth
Thineself meets thine own selfish needs!!!!

Thyself shoots bullets of steel
And steal cheapened goods
Whilst small holes in thee hit and bleedeth!!!!

Thy idols no longer stand
Clothes bought by daddy
From his first of the month paycheck
Colored in crayon!!!!

Thou followeth not even thy own commands.....

Is thy love didadic?
Of archaic to history's lesson's?

Art thou to short on preaching?
Thy words begin to lessen.... .
Not for noone made up in prison enjoy!
brandon nagley May 2015
Travel the deserted mountains?
That I will!
Travel the emptied fountains,
To get mine queens fill.
Travel to ghetto's and dark Alley's,
I must..
Travel to hell and back and purgatory,
Crawl through the dust!
Travel the bane quarters, through shallow wiss,
I shalt,
Travel the churches, mosques and temples?
A holy one I please!
Broken legs, and blistered arms,
I'll do it hence I'll bleedeth ...
Travel through impassible reticent,
No holding all back..
Travel to countries foreign,
To mansions and sleek tidy shacks!
Travel to her home, where ever she may be?
Oh I'm dreaming, tis I'll travel back to me!!!
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.

And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dare to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.
'Tis strange that those we lean on most,
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Fall into shadow, soonest lost:
Those we love first are taken first.

God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us; but, when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.

This is the curse of time. Alas!
In grief I am not all unlearn'd;
Once thro' mine own doors Death did pass;
One went, who never hath return'd.

He will not smile--not speak to me
Once more. Two years his chair is seen
Empty before us. That was he
Without whose life I had not been.

Your loss is rarer; for this star
Rose with you thro' a little arc
Of heaven, nor having wander'd far
Shot on the sudden into dark.

I knew your brother: his mute dust
I honour and his living worth:
A man more pure and bold and just
Was never born into the earth.

I have not look'd upon you nigh,
Since that dear soul hath fall'n asleep.
Great nature is more wise than I:
I will not tell you not to weep.

And tho' mine own eyes fill with dew,
Drawn from the spirit thro' the brain,
I will not even preach to you,
"Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."

Let Grief be her own mistress still.
She loveth her own anguish deep
More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done--to weep or not to weep.

I will not say "God's ordinance
Of death is blown in every wind;"
For that is not a common chance
That takes away a noble mind.

His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.

Vain solace! Memory standing near
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat
Her voice seem'd distant, and a tear
Dropt on the letters as I wrote.

I wrote I know not what. In truth,
How should I soothe you anyway,
Who miss the brother of your youth?
Yet something I did wish to say:

For he too was a friend to me:
Both are my friends, and my true breast
Bleedeth for both: yet it may be
That only silence suiteth best.

Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease;
Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.

Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange,
Sleep full of rest from head to feet:
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
brandon nagley Feb 2016
meale, agin thy losabox,
Mine sixth sense canst
Feeleth thine Cranium's
Woe. Telepathically this
I do know; as thine dazzle
Is leaving slowly, but queen
Behold me, as I taketh the
Stripes on thine backside.
I taketh the crown of Thorn's,
Upon thy top; whilst I bleedeth
Thine own blood, so its me, not thee
Whom the demon's confront. I wilt
Dieth for thou, so rest easy amour;
I wilt suffereth for thou, relax mine
Girl. I wilt replace thine water droplet's
With mine own vital being, Upon the
Burdened cross, I'll be hung up; strung
As cattle; struck with cord's, so thou canst sleep.
As when thou shalt waketh from thine gentle snooze, I shalt be
Bloodied, broken, anguished, bruised. All because I tooketh thine Torment's, so thou couldst respire mine muse, all because sweetest jane, im verily in love; verily in love with thou, mine dear refuge.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Meale- is a word I created.meaning ( me all) as in Irish speaking, like example ( meself) meaning also myself.
Agin- ( is archaic for next to)
Losabox is another word I made which means ( lonesome bed) losabox... I used losa-as another word for lonesome and box like the hard thing she's laying on which isn't even a bed, which I feel bad for her she's in physical pain from it.
Behold means archaic for +( see or observe)
Respire- recover hope courage and strength after a time of great difficulty.
brandon nagley Sep 2015
She, mine world
She, mine wife;
She, mine girl
She, mine life;
She, mine living
She, mine all,
She. Mine sight
She, mine Asian doll.
She, mine amour'
She, mine amare,
She, mine moral's
She, mine finger's, and hair.
She, mine beauty
She, mine plenty;
She, mine blood
She, mine lassie.
She, mine otherworldly
She, the gate's of pearly;
She, mine seraph
She, mine cherub.
She, all I needeth
She, when she cryeth, I bleedeth.
She, mine night
She, mine day
She, mine freedom
She freed me from decay.
She, Earl jane
She, O' mine Earl jane;
She, mine happiness
Doth these word's not explain?
She.....

Mine Earl jane nagley....



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane nagley( Filipino rose) dedication
brandon nagley Jul 2015
i

This temple is broken, lonesome, and old
It's leaving this place, the world's not meant for Good soul's;
Whilst good soul's art meant, for heaven not purgatory nor hell
No longer shalt I be trapped, or treated like some beast in his cell.

ii

I've seen prison before, and I dealt with that iron bar hand
The structure, the flames, the brute animals, and the pain;
They biteth til thou bleedeth, again and again, wings to expand
Expansional shift, I'll taketh mine flying arm's and I shalt uplift.

iii

Leaving suddenly, as they do sayeth, for only the good do die young, I shalt breatheth more easily, none more hatred, for the amour of the light I'm going to, I shalt succumb, mine senses wilt be ten fold the more than planet destruction earth, rebirthed.

iv

None more seeing war on the television screens, none more untruthful words, for others to bringeth me, none more reptillian like Creation's to killeth mine dream's, none more scream's, none more for those to breaketh me, a serene scene, of alien planet's.

v

None more hopeless romance, for I shalt haveth all the hope given, none more having to write on paper, mine soul shalt write by the dust trail's so splended, to be the cherub's inspiration, as cheribum shalt listen to me sing on set, this place for me to forget.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
brandon nagley Jul 2015
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
..
andy fardell May 2016
The clouds outside cried for my sadness
Tears of failure pained upon the ***** window of my heart
Come the granite grey of day
And that's not enough

Silence from the outside
Noise from the in
No more shall these hands touch
No more shall these lips speak

So this will be my last
Bleedeth me
No more
Stay the lonely till I pass
Comes written on the wall
Awsaaf Ali Apr 2014
Frozen blood o' thee lie,
I stareth thy te'rs crawleth,
Numb fingers o' thine,
De'd rose, soken wine,
Waitin' fo' the soul o' mine,
Tranquility ami'st us flasheth,
Melancholy too faces death,
Reminiscences t'en frozeth,
Whispers face silence,
Thy pouch, ink bleedeth,
Thy feather shrinketh,
Knees, the ground, no more toucheth,
Thy body, und'r my roof, freezeth,
My soul, fr'm thy body, drifteth.
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Bare and ****
His soul to thy world;
A seeker of a muse
He seeketh an amour of a girl.

Open and free
With flower's in mine hair;
I'm dying, I bleedeth
With this lonesome despair.

Asunder mine heart
Broken like rain pellets;
I Feeleth as the witch in wizard of oz
mine essence is melted.

Mine brawn is pelted
And mine vest seemeth to tight;
It's OK, with the help of truest friends
All shalt be better and alright.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
For noone just grateful for good friends here
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Static amare,
Wherein art thou?
To sticketh around and careth.....

Staunch lover,
For wherein art thou?
To loveth me? And not another......

Singular saccharine,
For wherein art thou?
To giveth realism, not just a dream....

Resolute angel,
For wherein art thou?
For in ourn own web of amour', to get tangled!!!

Requisite yearning's,
Shalt thou cometh?
Mine soul is burning..... .

Profound all,
Shalt thou ever arriveth after all??

Genre of seraphim,
Dost thou heareth me?
To be as me to be open and not hush, hush, Mum!!!!

Genteel chronic,

I needeth catharsis,
As assuaging of antibiotic!!!!

Merger marriage,
Thy scarcity is much
Yet still the purest touch
I reacheth mine hand's for....
Immutable I wanteth thee,
Though tis,
There art none....

So I retract as I bleedeth....
For noone just good writing ():
brandon nagley May 2015
Woe,
Woe!!!!!
To those who shall listen,
Thy fortresses and bunkers shall have no protection for thou rich dweller,
Howl and moan for better days to construct,
Thine yards shall be uprooted and plucked by thou fathers wrath you have forgotten!!
Eateth thine own prepped storeaways you quenchors to idols,
Rejecter to bibles,
The missing will politely strike,
Where the rattlesnake shall bear its territorial bother,
Chopped and slithered you shall have thine econonomic collapse!!!

Wake from thine nap ,
Coffee addicted shadows,
Billowed and awaiting fellows,

Know your mind is not on a trip,
But/a dip to hell and back../

Break thy backs,
And sow thine seeds,
Teress  as you bleedeth from/ the creatures you'll become again!
Ultimate end...

False peace is on the horizon,
Where thine batteries won't match Verizon,
For calls will be palapable and moribund by altitude!
Such gratitude!!! NOT..

Post thine photos and crop,
For they shall be the last thine self may post!!

List and ***** and swander in no charity humbleness,
For adore thine acrillic dish,
From out of thine bowl of wrath you shall eateth!!!!
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Warmly hour's
Bring me thy sun showers,
Calmly flower's
Wrap around mine veins.....
Sway to the clouded path
Down the dark hall,
Sweet boutique renaissance
Reminisce with me,
On clouds!!!!
Shaded grey
I seeketh thee not....
I'm no slave
To the could've had,
Could've not....
I'll be me
No different,
Lover of high hope.
I'll fly the band of love,
Cavort the minstrel stage.
Pivotol of all being
Just being in the moments cave...
Not expecting
Just waiting on what is...
Loving til mine spirit bleedeth,
Hung up on bliss.
Graced by God
Committing all mineself
Giveth all to other's.......
Tis,
No seeking back the help...
For I'm guided by the soul
It taketh me many places
Showeth me different era's
Wherein I shalt meet a thousand faces...
Just good sounding poem (:
MetaVerse Oct 12
The changing seasons are not more changefull
Then my mistresse; neither more vengefull
Is the wooing autumn wind that sedvceth
A singing mood afore it blasteth
With bitter colde, angry and disdainfull.
Her scorne is lyke a scorpion stinge painfull
In my sad heart wich bleedeth for banefull
Her who presently nowe observeth
          The changing seasons.
Her cruell scorne capricious entiseth
My heart to dispaire; itt dispaireth
Dailye and dieth from disese carefull.
Her scorne doth make my harte most woefull,
And so my smartyng heart despiseth
          The changing seasons.

— The End —