"bracketed" poems
i
Off in the beaten path
An Echelon of secret tribal's;
I pirouetted with them in plumage
Mine queen showed up, just on arrival.
ii
Her timing was perfect
As tis she watched me caper;
Me and mine Reyna's amour'
Like tambourines, shook with ancient shaker's.
iii
Hot coal ember's
Igneous in ourn chest's;
Ourn pulmonary arterie's
Bracketed, by her tribesgirl dress.
iv
We were gladden
Betwixt the wilderness;
Under mango leaves
Jane seduced me, equatorial phene's.
v
Whilst the darkness wore down
And the tribesmen went to sleep;
Me and mine protector
In the dusk, disappeared, into eachother's soul's to keep.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
You are nothing now,
but if I had the chance to wish one thing of you,
it is this:
(may your past rest in parenthesis)
only an aside in the monologue of life
a soliloquy to the fourth wall of dramatic irony
a bracketed prologue to your story
interjecting an understanding of now and everything from now
in a seemingly never-ending pattern
as present becomes past and enters the parentheses
when your death came and your last words and thoughts slipped behind you
death was the only thing left unsheltered
as your brackets came to a close
but may you rest in every moment and memory you contained in interjection thus far,
(may you rest in parenthesis)
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
god, at this hour
everything feels like poetry
even the silence is blooming
with words
and i don't know
if that's a blessing or a curse
desolation
or just a plain old desire for more
or maybe just an echoed question
that i ask myself, and answer back
becoming my own interpretation
of each cryptic answer
am i going through something
(well, are you going through something)
or do i just wish i was
(do you really wish you were)
for interest's sake?
maybe it's a mistake
a confusing stanza to read, for sure
but hey, that's how it works
swirls around untranslated
in my mind
and i thank my lucky, silent stars
for the ability to strain out the bracketed pieces
and still appear sane to the world
am i going through something
(well, are you going through something)
or do i just wish i was
(do you really wish you were)
for interest's sake?
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
The farmhouse is bracketed
by two loaves of fire;
in the night the house looks like the face
of Satan; the black void of the nose;
the house: vacant and shut off.
The two loaves burn beside it
through the night,
eating the stars and all the time
in the world.
A Tom and the thousand others
sleep in the foyer; closed off,
held in
by a tootsie roll the size
of a block of wood
used to keep the door closed
and the screaming
within.
Sometimes the cats slink out the windows
and make circles around the loaves;
silhouettes of fur, shoulders,
and contemplating tails
that swing and arc
through the night; it looks
like there are cats at the feast,
and they have brought the snakes
with them.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 10:25 AM UTC
It is the only place I feel safe
When sometimes my room feels too open:
I hide away in my closet
(And perhaps a joke can be made out of that
And perhaps it already has,
But it doesn't matter, anyway-
I've already told those who wouldn't hurt me.)
Recovering in the dark,
Where the monsters are familiar
And this small space originally deemed claustrophobic
Settles me,
My shoulders bracketed by the door and the back
The only hug I'll seem to get.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
Circa Holy Roman Empire
between ninth
and thirteenth century
after common era
(approximately 800 AD and 1200 AD)
benchmark year 780 bracketed
Benedictine monks
of Corbie Abbey
devised cheeky guttural lingual rapartee
vis a vis European
calligraphic standard script inked lined
writ via extant Irish and English monastic
members nsync
strong influence of Irish literati
eased communication
popular Latin cognoscenti
common lingua franca
spawned Carolingian Renaissance
Codices, pagan and Christian text
plus educational material
written viz Carolingian minuscule
Emperor Charlemagne issued prescription
(hence named Carolingian)
boosted unified modus operandi
he advocated learning,
though somewhat illiterate
recognized value of education
predicated on singular
codified regional alphabet,
the then webbed wide world
linkedin, sans uniform symbolic shapes
uncontested salient advantage
offered up ease to master
clear distinct explicit letter formation
simple logic boosted
rapidly transmitted standardization,
especially with exceptional legible
readable characteristic
adequate spaces between words
Merovingian "chancery hand"
still reserved to draft traditional charters
Gothic and Anglo Saxon
favored traditional local script
as opposed to Latin
learning latter involved less tricked out
embellished flourishes
or interconnected strokes
drawn by a scribe
allowing, enabling, and providing
greater popularity to teach masses,
latent etymological nuances apparent
centuries following implementation
quasi initial Carolingian letters
steadfast, where Carolingian
influence moats strong
adopted local stylistic signature flavor
divergence woke since proliferation
stoking diffuse prospects
decreeing entrenched footing,
where auspices boded prescient
until groundswell didst surcease
sub limb mated into modern patois.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
hearts beat, faster, faster
thighs bracketed around his waist
kisses clipped short because you just can't breathe enough air
he's holding you with his arms
But you're holding him with everything you are
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
Former CIA Director
John Brennan scathing headlines
Washington Post op-ed sharply
published critical accusations
muted excoriation slams
Commander in Chief
volcanic blatant pathological lying
spews like lava his American
foreign policy boilerplate brazenly
bastardizes by banditry blueprint,
balefully balkanizing beautiful bracketed
booming brady bunch brand,
bests best-buy buffer braking balanced
bastion, bolstered beloved benighted
bequeathed bicameral bipartisan bliss,
Baptizing bacchanalian buffoonish bombast,
betokening bobble-headed Bumstead,
barmy bartered bride bravado, bizarrely
brash brassiness, blindsiding behavior,
beetlebrowed bonehead, bafflingly baldfaced,
bankrupting, blithely bollixing,
bombastically belittling, badmouthing,
banally blasting, banana-boat baseless,
bearish blandishments, beastly boastful
boosterism, bellicosely boorish, bug-eyed,
bighearted, bigoted blathering breeding
blunderbuss bloopers, bewildering
bloodletting bellyache blight,
brazenly being bandying bellwether,
blitzing bourgeoisie balderdash,
balking but beaming barbaric
berserk ballyhoo backbiting,
backslapping backstabbing
blacklisting bromides,
besetting basic bestowed blooming,
Bobbitizing bedeviling beneficial
bulwark bereft badinage, ballistically ballooning
betrayal birthing bedlam.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
mass slaughter
of innocent kids aye abhor,
an undeniable chance, some and/or all
those slain Valentine' Day 2018,
would be alive borne out
in living color before
killing spree resulted in unwonted deaths,
when deputy Scot Peterson
abdicated his chief chore
and did not intervene (perhaps...
playing positive pivotal role)that fateful day,
but walked up to a closed door
then rode a golf cart February fourteenth
(appearing dumbfounded as Eeyore)
when seventeen people killed
(lying dead on the floor)
inside the Parkland, Fla. school
seeds bracketed speculation galore,
sans officer at Marjory
Stoneman Douglas High School did ignore
Shooting not "FAKE" baffles
and begs question, why bemused
mentioned deputy did not
strong arm gunman Nikolas Cruz,
Who unloaded his AR-15
inside the school settling revengeful dues
as said killer explained,
which no skew logic can excuse
as the latter indiscriminately
brandished barrel that fired
bullets at random youths
(unwitting targets) lighting a fuse
of explosive rage, and
(leaving no iota of doubt) lose
zing no chance against death penalty,
as surveillance video released into news
media Thursday (July 15th),
truth one cannot refuse
to see, where young baby faced assassin
blithely pumped bullets
dooming lives, whose shoes
unable to outrun as classmates got felled by ones and twos.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
Within Pantheon Of Classical Gods
stricken with affliction,
sans amyotrophic lateral sclerosis
(also known as ALS,
or Lou Gehrig's disease)
in the prime of his youth wrought
underestimation, vitiated termination,
targeted sequestration,
solidified rigidification,
rendered quandary,
per paralyzation obliterated,
nixed navigation,
morphed motivation,
marked limitation
kickstarted infatuation,
jinxed immobilization,
induced intellectual hyperfunction,
garnered fundamental fascination,
fanned fabled exploration,
devastation demonstrated
delectable declaration,
cosmological constant comet
clinched, chained certain capitulation,
brainstormed benefaction,
benediction attribution assured.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
his longevity (marked by bing permanently
linkedin, hitched, drafted
to a custom made wheelchair,
his brilliant unsullied scientific genius)
endured seventy six orbitz veer
ring round the nearest star,
though seemingly motionless, he freed their
ret tickle physiochemical insight
encompassing, revolutionizing,
and jaw-dropping, revelations
with mortals he did share
transcendent seeded plentifully
mental limitless groundswell
fed his fecund rare
if eyed cogitated, formulated, insulated
(infinitesimal nook and cranny) force queer
lee disproportionate overly endowed capacity
bracketed with mar ching madness peer
ring with laser, razor, and taser sharp mind
(or a minuscule approximate near
facsimile thereof) scrutinizing, positing,
and discerning astronomical phenomena mere
via concentrating gifted limned, and rapacious,
though processes affixed
with a visage mordantly like King Lear.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
Why are you singing?
Do you not like me?
I thought you lived alone just to be with me.
What are those words?
They aren’t your own.
Your lips turn down when you speak
It hurts me to hear.
I’m feeling lonely.
We haven’t spent that much time together recently.
I’m not angry
I’m always here
And you fit so perfectly in my fingers
Bracketed inside those walls.
Let me help you think
You should listen to your thoughts
Can you really hear yourself with all that din?
Everyone has ideas
But you can’t beat your own
So come back
And bounce them around.
Let them echo inside your head
Clattering.
Growing.
Breaking down and reforming.
What you’ve seen can always change.
Two perspectives are never the same
Don’t be scared.
It’s only you.
What is there to be afraid of?
So turn off the light.
Crawl into bed.
And think yourself to sleep.
Don’t worry.
I’ll always be next to you.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 1:53 PM UTC
**** Zionism always
comes to mind when
I see this insignia on
backpacks, plus there
is something sinister
about the All Blacks.
As for Christchurch,
I met the wizard and
he was up to no good.
Besides, there are more
pipe bands and Masonic
Lodges than in Scotland
where Glasgow Rangers
permitted no Catholics.
NaZio is a strange place,
bracketed vibes permeate.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC