Mother knits scarves in soft wool.
Daddy creates suits in steel.
Auntie makes a mess of strings.
Played with a bow, a twiddle, a fiddle a serious riddle.
Uncle strums his guitar, while  he's coughing catarrh.
From the **** he smokes.
While playing with kippers and older men's zippers.
Pretensions of kindness, while fetching their slippers.
Money hunting, baby bunting, wrapped in boas of stripy snakes that choke, crush and strangle, dangling lust on a string, it's his sort of thing.
Uncle carbuncle, peril to both pusillanimous child and men of great age.
Daddy knows and  he's so enraged, steel suits beat the outrage of misuse and abuse, through the family and mummy knits more scarves in soft fluffy wool. ****** old fool, never does anything by halves, it's all covered up by soft fluffy wool scarves.
(C) LIVVI

Exploring hands encounter no defence;
Recollecting endeavours drives her to a dry pain
Throbbing, throbbing
Hamlet's hamartia discards her to *the lowest of the dead

His vanity requires no response;
Her life on the line and he's got nothing to lose.
  So much more the eye can see
Caressing, caressing

Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass;
  Leave me, carbuncle:
Words she has never been able to utter . . .
Loudly, she thinks it
It doesn't translate
Shivering, quivering

Brittle monster bestows one final patronising kiss
  I must exercise some form of self control

Hardly aware of her departed lover,
She lays in a yellow blanket;
Phosphenes in the emerging light of day.

Solstice Sun.
Under a clear blue bowl of a sky
warm sea slumbers as still
scraps of cloud like spun gauze float by
to let sun shine at will.

Lazy and lapping like coloured flint
around flattened path, more
carbuncle-red light changes tint
to let tide paint the shore.

Life-symbol-sphere wedded to fire,
evening sun throws her cloak
on midsummer day's heated pyre
to let night's grey in-soak.

And I breathless absorbed sky's bold
change as cloudmass diminished
after vivid crimson gauged holes
to let solstice sun sink.

How innocently and wholly she fell for me-
   It's a shame we won't have that again.  
 What good are the taverns and church bells
 When love is the doula of rain?

I'd rather be drowned in red water
   Than have these bad dreams chisel stone in my mind
 I felt the deep call of my meat to the slaughter-
 The marvelous, numbing, sweet nothing, sublime.  

My finest carbuncle I offered, she smiled,
   Uncomprehending intangible worth;
  It's red like the robin's fine coat in the morning 
  On the unfortunate day of my birth.  

How innocently and wholly she fell for me-
   It's a shame she won't have that again.
 What use for the taverns and church yards
 When love is the doula of rain?

and there comes that moment call it the first adult moment at 17 from heartbreak or at 20 fighting a lost war when the realization of emptiness attends you and you know in your testicles or ovaries that god is deaf chaos rules eternally the universe stands indifferent and you are but a carbuncle on the cosmos' *** alone and forever alone and that moment may be debilitating or delightful enslaving or freeing and your life is launched upon a trajectory that you can never escape it is a moment of depression or bliss depending on your malleable personality and temperament and you will never ever be the same again...

Sunless steeples toppled the fonts of your apocrypha
The mumbled harbingers of guilt's ascendancy
The icicles of the chandeliers dripping
Carbuncle tears, as the ransom of sullen lives
Many Sundays saw the closing of word-stiffened pages
In the hands of the blue-suited multitudes,
In homage of cathedrals filled up with dead Lilies
The pure must wear dark colors, in a kind of fake humility
While the evil wear white alone, in broad strokes of denial
And attention is a weather vane spinning madly
At the top of the world, wanting only God to be watching
only God to be watching
only God to be watching

i.

Planet doom
Is on it's final breath;
Though, I shalt be safe
In mine reyna's nest.

ii.

A nest made from
Blood and pulsing;
Whilst her carbuncle
Connecteth with me, entrancing.

iii.

She hast saved me
From me;
She delivereth me
From devlish seed's.

iv.

As she giveth me mine need's
Any king couldst desire;
She's mine Filipino rose
The light to mine soul, mine fire.


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

Beggar’s change buys Black.
Broken system’s open sores,
Homeless flagellates.

The chocolate party
You see all the dear children are gathering around at the chocolate party, you see young bobby Brady
And his brother Peter were ******* in the closet and gagged
You see old mike couldn't understand my dear why this man
Would do such a bad crime
But little bobby Brady who was 27 years old and a really wild party dude and Peter Brady and his mate
Oliver clothes off and Peter yelled
Please free us young party loving boys who were born in a large Corny family but as long as they like partying that is fine
Partying with alcohol and sugar
Yeah let's party to the sound of the flute and party with the sound of poems read by some of the city's finest poets that you've ever seen
And bobby and Peter struggled their way through the rope and gag
Yeah this is so dangerous as
As mr Thomas carbuncle who was
The Brady's hair dresser since Peter Brady was a young attractive sensitive new age guy
Yeah sensitive sensitive sensitive
New age guy for my love oh yeah
And Greg untied Peter and bobby
As they let out a really big smile
And that smile was just stopped by a filthy man's grotty hand and Peter said I am ******* near a pretty girl
Ya know hand cuffed so to speak
And every hour of the five Peter was *******, it made his body feel really weak really really weak as, dudes
And when Peter was let go dudes
They all went to the ******* to really party hardy won't ****** stardy dudes


Sent from my iPhone

lugubrious
follicle
turgid
splink
perihelion
pickle
fubhole
scrof­ulous
gropingly
carbuncle
gigglepunk
puberulent
squirt
make america great again
wimple

If and when you decide to associate with those outside
The Haphazard herds that gather with the flies
From Downtown to the town of Desperations
Sin City alien Nation

Them who have nothing with everything to lose,
Their thinking only to stay alive, where they can find
A fix for the next high,
Their excuse for being outside (betraying everyone who might
Give a ****):  “it’s nothing personal, it’s how to survive”
*******, thieving, lying, Oscar worthy tears in their eyes
Manipulation game for those who still have their feelings
They will claim that they’ve become wild
The reason for getting caught for crimes that uproot the lives
Like us who trust too much
Those as human as we who try to
Make a difference
But don’t let them inside
Don’t listen to a word said
They’re so absurd, so street savvy, lavishing every lie
For the marks that we are,  ignorantly happy, yet
Kept in the dark …

If you should brave the depraved
From Carbuncle Blvd.
Take it from one who’s been there, don’t stay
Don’t bother to even try to find out
Why & who & what they’re about
They’ll only disappoint you, don’t be a fool,
Hardened your skin, don’t swim in that pool,
Inside where the heart begins and the soul ends
Don’t expect too much from the start
If you should associate with them,
Pack light for hell, when you depart…
Presume to have no answers or a cure
for those on Carbuncle Blvd.
deception is certain, don’t become the fish on the lure

Imperfect and as human as we all are,
If you should take a chance to make someone’s day
Those who have become lost and stray
Be certain of any risk, if you should care to
Associate with the worst kinds in pain
Fall if you must, but do so like the rain
Make your heart like iron among the rot
There on Indigent Lane, USA
But in the rain, all steel will rust, if you befriend
That unkind loss, please
Leave behind your trust, avoid any pain.
If and when
You associate with them again, those outside
Be a light among the dark,
Be prepared for loss, in streets all cross
They will care not, tear you up and apart
If you must depart, high as the albatross
From here to There
Be prepared, should you care at all...
Make a difference


(People are the world’s scars—save the planet with the heart)

It was a carbuncle not a scabby mole, but no matter what you think,
I wouldn't jab Oprah's freak-nuggets with a 9-foot-freak-nugget pole