We are born free people, yet there are always restrictions.
We choose if we want to break them, whether with facts or through fiction.
Whether on walls using diction,
Or any crawl through confliction.
And no amount of chains and barriers
Will restrain us, no contradiction.
We understand we’re not on ice,
That there’s always going to be friction.
As expressers, fighters, artists, world changers
It comes from an Italian word, meaning scratch.
Look at it again and a whole new world
Has hatched.
The term graffiti, referred to the inscriptions, figure drawings, and such, found on the walls of ancient graves or ruins, as in the Catacombs of Rome or at Pompeii. Use of the word has evolved to include any graphics applied to surfaces in a manner that constitutes vandalism.
75% of people think its vandalism.
Toronto spends one million a year on graffiti removal.
When artists get back in the game, they haven’t given their approval.
Why don’t you use that money to feed the thousands of poor in society?
Instead of worrying about the art that the citizens need to see.

I never got A’s in elementary school art.
Getting marked on art still sounds like you need to be smart.
But graffiti doesn’t have to mean anything,
Not every letter is a symbol.
There are complications too but it can also be simple.
Almost every kind that I saw on the streets
Took a soft place in my heart, eventually turned concrete.
Let me reel back to grade 10 when I actually took art courses
In the media arts classroom I was taught people as my sources
Banksy, JR, Sofles, Katsu, Kidult, Shepard Fairey.
After my first graffiti assignment I understood clearly
What would happen if you brought a spray paint can near me.
The reason for graffiti is a simple one,
Not always about rebelling, or having fun.
Every artist craves to paint in his or her own way.
And all of us have messages that need to be portrayed.
Like, I was here, I’m alive, let me leave my mark.
This city is mine too, and I want to give it my spark
I belong, I have a voice, and I crave to make a change
These walls are too voiceless when it comes to the speaking range
My love for social justice brings in political ties
Through graffiti one can tell what country thrives with lies
It gives any surface a story, makes it come alive.
Change the system if you strive, until justice is revived.
To try to help the oppressed,
The shapes and lines were mine,
But they’re the ones on the line,
And to sit and do nothing would be an even bigger crime.
I even changed my initials to KKB
The B is for Banksy, its everywhere you see me.
My email has a Banksy, my Twitter did too.
Graffiti is my life, though you already knew.
Humanity is lost within the walls that we made
Graffiti brought it back to me,
And like the ocean did I wade.
Inside the political aspect that structures our brains
And the society that gives us money to drain
All the false information and the things we don’t need
Gives me hope to find these messages written on the streets
Sometimes freedom of speech isn’t so free at all.
But if Facebook deletes posts, documentaries have biased calls,
There’s another way of speaking, even if we fall,
I love how it’s not typical; no tag is the same.
Its breathing life on the walls, not stuck in a frame.
It stands out.
Stands outside of a museum where you always have to pay.
To see something that may or may not catch your attention right away.
That makes your head sway,
Give you some kind of reaction, moves you to action.
Not something you have to think hard about,
There’s little analysis needed, a splash merrily seeded.
Its urgent, its in the moment, for realization.
Once the message has been received, it’s an artist’s confirmation.
I integrated graffiti as a part of my every day life, including school
Drew it in math projects, French presentations, writer’s craft essays, it was my arts night welcome sign tool.
I will carry this with me through university
And it’ll take me further in the arts industry.
When you walk by graffiti in the street, do you ever take the time to notice it? Like, really notice it? Do you ever think about the person behind the spray paint can? Writers are not only being underappreciated for their talents, but they’re being harassed, looked down on, all for no reason. Do you know any of their stories? Do you know what thoughts and feelings sprayed out of the can when the paint hit the wall? Do you ever think about the history behind the art? To breakdown the styles of graffiti, here’s a simple introduction. There are tags, the simplest forms of graffiti. A signature. There are stencils. There are stickers, also known as slaps. Wildstyles are also used, and they’re more intricate, more colourful, and harder to read. It’s a particular style of writing developed in New York City. A piece is one that takes time an effort, and requires more than three colours. A blockbuster is used to cover the most space in the least amount of time. And a heaven is a piece that’s put in a hard to reach area, like the tops of tall buildings or on freeway signs. There’s the style bubble, old school, brush, abstract, bombings, whole car, ignorant, landscape, realistic, billboard, cartoon and sharp as well.
A sense of tranquility seeps into my veins every time my marker hits the paper, full of energy, full of hope. Starting graffiti was a way to combine my passion for speaking out against oppression and my love for the arts. Even though my work is not displayed on the streets, it has the same style, and it may not have the same effect but it counts as an escape for me. It doesn’t make me a graffiti artist, and some would even argue that doing canvas work kills the purpose of graffiti but I always want my work to make an impact on people no matter which way I do it. It’s something I love to do, and anyone can take that any way they desire. There are stereotypes that I’ve had to battle, but in the end, I know my true intentions. I don’t need to make a name for myself. I don’t need to create a reputation for myself either. True, this is not real graffiti, but that’s as far as I choose to take my fascination. I do it because of the escape it provides for me, the sense of freedom, and the sense of power in my markers.
These are the little movements of writers, all of us trying to get at revolution. Art is not supposed to be limited in frames. That’s why to me, the streets are some of the biggest forms of freedom – do as much as you like, however you like, all free. The poor and rich all have to see it. No one can avoid the message. It is not only artistic expression; it’s a protest. A scream of anger and emotion aimed towards public spaces. Graffiti artists did not start the war, they just respond to defend our vision of what graffiti and society should be: free. A battle against commercialism and a way of saying ‘no’ to materialism and society’s over consumption.  To the government, you are not the only ones who own these cities. What about the rest of us that do not exist until we leave a mark of our own? This is a game of action and reaction, if you will.
Taking care of our society is our obligation. That means changing anything harmful to us with every mean possible. Graffiti seems to offend a majority of society but if we took the time to appreciate and understand, a lot of good can be done if we turned the negatives into positives. So if we aimed for change and acted on it, especially with art, we’d be much less stressed. More often, we’d just remember, to stay blessed.

Beware the Quiet Ones.

The Quiet Ones are the Thinkers
The Quiet Ones are the Dreamers
They’re the heart seekers, thrill lovers, and love givers
They’re the heart breakers, story makers, and life changers
The best heroes, the worst villains, the most notorious saints and sinners
Their hearts and minds are largest of all (But they’ll never control them)

Beware the Quiet Ones, because it’s Always the Quiet Ones.

The Quiet Ones will always listen, even when you won’t do the same
They’ll break your comfort zone, just to make you comfortable
They’ll never ask for favors or a shoulder to cry on
But they will always be there, hanging on every word and tear
They’ll sell their souls to save yours, sacrifice their minds to break yours
They’re the strongest, and the most broken.

The Quiet Ones don’t like to harm you, because they know too well how it feels... but don’t you hurt them.
They’ll always forgive and never forget, and they know how to aim for the heart
All they know is the past, and vengeance is their greatest weapon.
That’s why it’s always the Quiet Ones.
Whether the key to your heart or your greatest fear? The Quiet Ones will find it – Beware the Quiet Ones.

The Quiet Ones are the first to stand up, and the last to point the finger
They’ll stand up for anything, because they have nothing to lose.
They are the champions of love and hate, and if you hate to love them, or love to hate them?
That was their plan all along.
Your deepest plots or darkest secrets? The Quiet Ones knew all along. They’re four steps ahead of you – Beware the Quiet Ones.

They’ll never put you down, but believe they know how, because the Quiet Ones see EVERYTHING
They know what you did, they heard what you said - they were there
Their depth knows no end, yet they’re so empty inside

Their curses bring power, their strengths bring weaknesses
They’ll control you, even when they can’t control themselves
That’s why it’s always the Quiet Ones

Beware the Quiet Ones.

i always wanted to write about the true heroes
It's not about hockey stickers or football kickers;
face punchers, these million-dollar-heroes, they manifest no social change
It's about us the people, it's about you and me
It's about free givers who give of themselves for the good of mankind
It's about free changers who freely make change for the good of mankind
That's it, hmmm, changers and free givers?
Oh yes! Free changers in the face of diversity
and against any form of oppression,
never be apathetic to what is right
Never become fearsome in knowing what is right
Stand up for all your brothers and sisters,
here on our delicate planet earth
Say never to the numbskulls, who disbelieve in change,
even at times trying to educate some
When hearts go forth and attach to others
is the beginning of a selfless human being
When the sun never seems to rise,
join other heroes along the way
Everyday count your blessings what you and I fought for
Altruistic motivation is the greatest catalyst for real heroism,
take advantage of it my heroes and potential heroes;
i love you guys, keep on truckin'

I am so thankful for each of You Brothers and Sisters in God.

For each of you have a great deal of Love for other People too.

I know that through Your Beautiful Words , You are Life changers.

For You are always Busy changing other People lives right here.

Through all of Your Hearts and Beautiful Words others read here.

I just want you all to know as well , You change my Life as well.

I also want You to know that it is always for the Good as well too.

So I am just letting You know up front how inspiring that You are.

So never give up on Your Great Gift that God has bless you with.

What crisis changes a life?
A birth.....................defected or not;
A death....................expected or not;
A break-up..............rejected or not;
A make-up..............accepted or not;
A ****-up................degenerative or not;
An accident.............not ever planned;
Or,
All of the above.
There are no boxes to tick;
No likes to click;
No swipes right or left;
No emoticons to stick.
Just choices and decisions
That are life changers.

I've never been great at writing in a happy tone;
In a world this crazy how could anyone?
But with these bittersweet memories refreshed in my mind,
I can't help but to smile looking back over the road that brought me here.
Most people, when asked about the most life-changing thing they've been through
Are unsure of an answer.
But I can honestly say that I know mine
It shaped my character, helped me understand reality, and truly see the people and world surrounding.
It's funny to look back to the times where I felt like quitting,
All the moments of anxiety and frustration were all worth it.
Because now all I want is to be back where I was,
With those who grew to be a huge part of my life;
My family.

A coffee shop afternoon can say it looms significant
In the steamer’s sweet humidity
And the idle legs pace for more
I hear the whispers of world-changers and gossip mix
Local color of a quiet little town.

Sit humble and lean, a fixture ‘till showtime
And ask lines around just we’ve they’ve been
And who they’ve seen.

There’s a poetry in the patron, come
My gaze permits and intervenes
Its narrative and scheme, in lover’s hand enweaved.

Graphite plays its frustrate part the writer
Seated far, far in a blissful nadir
Bristles in his pony tail like drawers end to no avail.

Tobias.
A handsome, broad-shouldered man with soft earth-brown eyes,  that lived in 18th century England, who then came to America with his mother and father plus his eight brothers.
He would die of fever at the age of 23.
After he died,  he did not move on to the afterlife, instead he was chosen by a group of elders called The Guard.
As a Guardian, he was tasked a keeper of human lives selected  by The Guards' standards as 'changers,' or humans that change the course of history.
Tobias rejected his forced calling and attempted to abandon his task.
The oldest of The Guard, Helten, a man thousands of years old (only looking 40), approached him and asked a simple question, "Why do you want to truly die?"
Tobias was silent,  until Helton added,
"There is a Shift after your changer."
Shifters, or Shifts,  are the enemies of the Guardians and their mission is to destroy all changers so that Shifts can take their place and change the world to their liking.
Tobias added gruffly,  "Which one?"
"Daniel."
Tobias' hand squeezed into a fist. He hated Daniel ever since the 1920's. He wanted a rematch since that idiot tried to **** his charge for a cigarette.
Tobias wanted to punch him.  Hard.
His eyes flashed crimson,  and his fists turned blue flame.
"Where is he?!" Daniel growled.
Helton smirked,
"Pennslyvania."

Moments are what capture life's greatest achievements
They are photographs worth 1000 words
Thoughts in your head too good to be put on paper
Moments are what last a lifetime
Emotions captured forever
Life changers or happy endings
Moments are captured anywhere or anyplace
Everyday creates a lifetime of moments
A look, a glance
Moments are created by everyone
They can help you set your destiny or pick your future
Moments help you remember the finer things of life
As life passes by you will always have your favorite moments worth remembering
Good and bad times remembered
Moments are what capture life's greatest achievements.

I want to be thin as a whisper,
To be feline and ****, a cat with long whiskers,
To have length and width but no depth at all,
Not one bit of fat and to walk model tall,
I’ll take drugs, gobble Kleenex, drink only weak tea
Whatever it takes, to not ever be me.

I want to be loved like a pillow, feathered and light,
Held close to your cheek, cuddled all night,
To be soft squished and moulded into all kinds of lovers,
A prop up, a padding, a bump under the covers,
A cushion encased in a bright burst of stars,
I can’t wait to be normal, I’m slightly bizarre.

I want to be lost in crowd of loud celebration,
To be swept up and away in a mass of flirtation,
To be jostled and felt up, the hands of rude strangers,
A joyous outburst, wet kissing ex-changers,
To abandon my will, flee from restraint,
I can’t be, I could be, I am what I ain't.

The Game Change
Two strong competitors fighting for the crown
So many promises, Where can we go wrong?

What did our bible?
Said about speaking in tongues?

Someone must lose in order
For the other one to win

That is what known at the game change.
Knowingly, nothing would ever be the same again

How many competitors from the past fulfill their promises?
Fools us once, shame on you, fool us twice,

We just have to say Amen but indeed... Oh! Jesus Christ.”

We listen and watch all those tricks and trades
With ponderings thoughts we said “who really said what?
Can they really step up to the plate and deliver?

Are we willing to put our country in the hands of the wealthy?
Who never knew the meaning being dirt poor?
Or Shall we say, no more, no more?

Show us the beef you influential flimflammers',
and we shall show you where our loyalty lies;

*Because man is his own authority
he use his brilliant educational philosophy, to be creative
he wink at the cameras, and said
” I get back to you on the real issues”
You law abiding fools

Satan is a liar, and so is man.
White lies, black lies and grey lies
Everybody lied at some point in their life
why stop now?
All eyes are on you!

my eyes darkened when you walked away.
I see it in my pictures.
I wonder if you see it too.

I define my violence with internal revenue,
Mind changers,
Pill bottles.

These viruses incubate in,
Subdivision playgrounds,
Kiddies Kiddies Kiddies,
and civil wars.

i.

In the archaic agora
Stayed apothecaries, money changers, and tradesmen;
Governor's with grape stained sin's
Himation throw over's, as for women a chiton, white garb glint.

ii.

Betwixt the sea human being multitude
Were the many different Greek's, and the Grecian Jew's;
This locale was vibrant, a theatre nearby where the soldier's couldst escape from the war, whilst fighting made market new's.

iii.

A poet I was, listening to homer, and the philosopher Plato
Whilst Aristotle read marvelous novel's, whilst Aristophanes gaveth me a laugh; and Hippocrates showed me doctor's notes for the generation's to cometh and pass, Sophocles to giveth fun task.

iv.

Off in the distance was a lass not from around mine Greek land
Her skin a little darker, her eye's **** wick's, ablazed, her sheath Asiatic tan; she hadst no brand, she was not formed by any human creator, her tropical hair, swayed to the Mediterranean.

v.

She was struggling, fighting for her life from the cyclops Polyphemus, I ran quickly to her rescue, pulling out mine xiphos;
She passed out from the trauma, her pupils rolled back timeful
As I woketh her with mine poetic Lip's, giving her life, greek kiss.





©Brandon nagley
©Earl jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry

We bandage our tender hearts with cast iron strips,
constricting the blood flow to our faces,
pale skin with a waining zest for life.

There is an extra shelf in our closets for home-made masks,
the masks are poorly made
and our true pale skin can be easily seen
through the cracks in our bright coloured ornaments.

It's a **** shame about our cut up hearts.
If they could heal instead of hide,
then dreamers would be the true world changers,
and love would be a possibility for us all.

But our cynacism imprisons our weak minds
in dungeons of hopelessness and pretentiousness.
Our talk traps us through regurgitated drivel,
we talk **** with loud uttering
as if our **** holds in it the secrets of the universe.
Yet in the mean time-
the very words we think will protect us from this wild wild world
expose us as fools and make us soft tarkets-
propelling us further into loneliness.

At least we live in the delusion that we are now all grown up.

You asked me why I write,
why I daily hope again to fight,
as I ignite it takes my sight,
like lovers in the heated night,
& nothin' but a pure delight,
musta  been a true birthright

It covers me & smothers me,
engulfing me in flames
a place for me to point some blame,
& bury me unwanted shame,
I know that this is not a game,
& not for fame
& not for fate,
I already gotta a real full plate,

& hey they say it's not too late,
I am banging on the waiting gate,
let out the angry angels
& let out the long forgotten hate,
it's a crazy little bit of spate,

I took a pill, was feeling ill,
& went along against my will
it takes my heart and runs
it shakes apart, in booming guns

It's a hiding cluster
& I'm a wordsmith hustler
guess a real crime buster,
yeah I think I trust her,
ya know that shiny luster,

Hope is dope, grab a rope,
the drugs, the thugs,
the tiny little budding nugs,
the tipping back of happy mugs,
giving you a little hug,
a white hot plug,
electrifying baby
an aiming slug,
try to get me maybe,
a stinging bug,

Ouch that hurt!
while rubbing in a little dirt,

It bites & bites,
& then I writes,
again, again, again
again,
yes its true my poet friend,

My hands they move to a different beat,
& down a different funky street
with moving feet,
it's groovy, neat,
& this is sounding really sweet
it repeats, repeats, repeats,

Awaiting  dictating
sometimes  frustrating,
enticing & slicing
my hands always dicing
& giving me pricing
sweet just like icing,

Skating through life,
finding creating,
all the press is still waiting,
and me it is bating,
I'm hating the dating,
'cept while we are mating,
sweet, sweet loving
& good turtle doving
is soooo satiating ; )

Sometimes I'm grieving,
but always believing
& ever retrieving,

There is a voice
it's not a choice,

I hear it now
they tell me how,
a sense of humor
I heard a rumor
a cancer's tumor,

In the radio
the tower on the mountain
my pens leaky fountain,
signaling changes in the weather,
calling me birds of another feather
when that lone whistle blows,
wherever my shoes may go
as high as any flower grows,
leaves of fall & winter snow,
what the tallest cedar knows,

What about the crescent  moon
& how those lovers kiss & swoon,
this could be such a boon,
like incandescent bulbs
come
May in  bloom,
& hearts with maybe too much room,

Aggravating spirits

A fever spikes,
so I must take
a farther hike,
a stronger bike
peddling & meddling,
shining & pining
sometimes I'm whining,
in the brilliant ink
it's the deepest well,
the very deepest sink,
I'm in the drink, I shouldn't blink,
Nevermind to stop and think

Like lidocane I am tot'ly  numb
my mind alive & feeling dumb,
it's sticking like a piece of gum
as I come all done,
I know I'm not the only one,
captured by the guilty sun

Metaphors the seep my veins
taking with them tired chains
my chest can breath without the pain

Ahhhh so sublime,
it's why I rhyme & rhyme
why my voice it chimes,

Say what you mean
and mean what you say
because the Sun is gonna
rise on some other day,
& anyway
as a coloring book streaks
& takes away the ugly bleak,
to seal up the finding leak
I must write if I can't speak,

In the deepest midnight skies
I think I heard an angel sigh,
she saw a falling passerby,

Turn it up,
till death comes again
sometimes it comes, a long lost friend
one my pen it will defend,
my heart it might be on the mend,
when pain to me, it looks real pretty,
& getting kinda nitty gritty,
and scars bleed too
from me & you,
we bleed our truth,
in wisdom of our years and youth,

In deep crevasses of beauty
it's a poets certain duty,
the bones we bury deep
in messages they seep,
& tiptoe 'round and creep,

I dream, I hope
I hold on a rope,
I'm dizzied by the angles dope,
in a hurry and in our worry,
we want to be saved
calling from a darkened grave,
watching shadows dance,
as they kiss in sweet romance
hoping for another chance,

Don't wanna be played,
in death to be slayed,
plunging a sticking blade,
& down my enemy is quickly laid,

Rescue me poet
you are, you are & you know it too,

Sleep peacefully at night,
live your life & say it right,
you keep the lid on way to tight,
open it, let it out
just scream & shout
but never doubt,
hey you got clout,
releasing the way
in every word you speak and say,

Listen intendedly
& contentedly
find a beat,
& take a seat
have a treat
just grab a pen,
& say it again, again,
a heart you know you must defend,

I hold teardrops in my hands
I hold them out & as they land,
release me in the said demands,
a clench my fist,
& I slit a wrist,
bleeding & needing,
just keep reading
love is breeding,

I tighten up,
I take a sup,

I reach you & as you teach me
as every one of you beseech me,
as minds are racing
and hands retracing,
as I'm embracing,
the poet's calling,
again, again I'm always falling
falling,
in love with life,

Like lightning in a bottle
I'm a genie,
& holding on the throttle,
my heart BEATS like the rain
I feel it's endless painted pain ,
it's electric & hectic,
I'm a gentle bird
a voice I hope is duly heard,
can be wounded easily
though strong in storms,
I fly again,
& can't be warned,

I'll never fly too far
I must reach the closest star,
touching souls,
drifting & sifting
words I'm grifting,
I'll never go without saying so
no matter where a poet goes
or what the traveling picture shows,

A hazy start
an aiming dart
a broken down ol' heart
a silly **** (haha)
a nice full grocery cart,
I'm acting kinda smart,
a glowing celestial chart,
cuz ya know
I think that this is art
especially when we drift apart
and even more when we depart,

Note taking for granted
as my feet are planted,
words they are slanted
& dark art is chanted,

If words cut deeper than a knife
Just write me out and bring me back to life

There is always a compelling story
one of histories honored glory,
& even if it's kinda gory,
I gotta a suitcase to pack
a train to get on back track,
pick up the slack
sometimes derailed by life,
divorced from reality,
as once I was a loving wife,

To tell & share
a way to find, a way to care,
& yes we must, we must dare,
words can't bring me down
hey, I love that endless sound,
fall & crash back to the ground,

I am beautiful
& you are too,
I know these things,
I know it's true
skies above they are so blue
a color that looks good on you

I hear a rap repeating tap
leavings of  unwanted scrap,
a song that I still can sing
I hear a voice, my voice it rings
another soul,
a bell it dings,
a dance left to dance
a chance of romance,
a hand left to hold,
the shiniest gold
treasure for seekers,
for look at life peepers,
I hope it's a keeper,
I'm delirious but serious,

Game changers & rearrangers,
in infection & detection
not won in a election
a sugary confection
in delusions & illusions
& constant intrusions,
the magic is tragic,
ecstatic & fanatic
this curse could be worse,
you could be me
as I bleed ink
& quickly blink,
can't stop to think
or ever take a tiny drink

Kick the ceiling
minds are reeling & keep feeling
just touch it
just do it to it,
come in undo it,

It's a really deep well,
so I gotta tell it
& I try to sell it,
close my eyes & try smell it
wave a wand & even spell it,

I want to take a sip
so hear my families battle yip,
my heart it just skips & skips
a wandering blip
just take a little skinny dip,
here's a little helpful tip,

We gotta spill it,
need to **** it
because they drill it  
way down deep,
in veins they seep,
Oh my ****
I think I'm struck
& now I'm stuck
by luck or fate
in love and hate,
it's been a date,
I had to wait,
it's been real great,
I can rate & keep it straight
Pick up the weight,

I can avoid or be annoyed,
I tell,  I yell
my soul, I'd sell,
say in a way you understand,
so poet here's the perfect plan, Stan
I want to dive
so we survive,
& feel alive,
live vicariously through my words,
know your voice, it too is heard,

As water & gasoline
is touching my skin
as I reach out, to be new again
reaching out to find a friend
I'm burning down
& hit the ground
a violent sound,
I turn around,

I swim inside the glistening wet,
to clean my life from sins & sweat,
& anything I might regret,

Carbon Copy

If there is a God,
in him I say, I'm truly awed,
I'll find out too,
I'm humming right along with you,
we cannot undo
the sticky glue & residue,
words we pray
& ones we say, & where we lay
or head to pray,

Say what I think
stand at the brink,
& take nice long lasting drink,
let the indigo ink,
just let it flow,
write it down as you go,
& let a shining spirit glow,

Earths angels
party hard, & learn harder
we work just a little smarter,
get it down
get it right
as it hits the ground,
I'm kicked around,
poetic sounds
as ears they pound,

Sometimes the rain
in tears and sun
sometimes a battle
or a war we won
sometimes I cry, inside I sigh,
or walking in a dessert dry,
my pen will tell & never lie
protect me as I wait to die,
painting words in pictured skies,
so many left unsure goodbyes,
diamonds fall from tears they cry,
I sometimes think that I,

I can't go on
until I hear a poignant song,
please won't you come along,

Sometimes my feet are on the run
those setting tangerine skies
the blistering hot & sweltering sun,
illuminating my darkest ink,
& every thought I try to think,
a Titanic ship can sink,
when you need help
I'll beg & steal
try my best
to make you feel
when you are suffering
& life not buffering,

I'll believe
in tomorrow
find time we can borrow
a bottle to drown out every sorrow
I'll love you when you're gone
this is a place where I belong
together we can sing along,
a crutch for a rugged heart
a gift of life,
a brand new start,
so don't be crude or ever rude,

I am human too
just like them, just like you,
a drum don't stop beating
or keep on repeating,
Keep me up,
give me a cup,
keep me going,
& ever knowing,

My heart it never does take rest
after the most grueling test,
it beats & it heats,
in the pain &  the rain
I can't stop this ugly vain
raised it from its darkened bed,
now it demands, I hear it said,
every single word
that anyone
has ever said, I heard,
crashing burning
I am ever learning,
& always yearning
a day I'm earning,
to get a chance,
just one last dance
before its over
to kiss the clover,
my starry rover,
an Australian drover,

To be rendered useless
if my words are fruitless,
if said in vain,
against the grain,
it doesn't matter
as tears they shatter
the sky it sets
but you can almost always bet
I'll be writing of you
& love that's true,

& everything that's beautiful
trapped in Autumn's wind
with tombstone eyes,
caught  again in sad goodbyes,
please baby don't you cry
stupid cupid,

The bittersweetness
of our yesterday's
I feel it in the touch
one you want so very much
again come tomorrow's light
again I will take another flight,
again I bleed the poets plight,
I pray for vision
hope & sight
listen & get it write,
I know I will win the fight
burning lamps into the night

Add, edit, do that again
hold a hand & be a friend,
be a lover and a mother,
celebrate & graduate,
follow & lead
ask of us  & beg & plead,
I will not be afraid,
filling every heart it's need
drowning out the sounds of greed

There is nothing to fear but fear itself,
no truer statement
could have ever been uttered
  whispered,  or muttered,
like sweet Fred that stuttered
warm wheat bread that's buttered,

It's why we rhyme,
we are chasing after time,
yup, your words & mine,

I go unafraid into darkened night
and even with my blinded sight,
lit by scars & brilliant stars,
candles snuffed out too soon
caught by the tail of the crescent moon,

I'm mesmerized I can't move my feet
unless I hear that haunting beat,
as demons flee in sweet defeat,
at times I carry the weight of the world
& that of my children,
that they too are heard
ancestors calling as I,
I am,
I am always
falling,

Afraid to close my eyes,
& look at the skies,
afraid of that surprise,
and each day I awake,
grateful for what I take,

I rise up,
a phoenix from ashes
& blinking eyelashes,
while I can still see
sight please find a plan,
left upon a grain a sand,
I'm made of glass & paper
I got a pass  hey what a caper,

Wake it up & take it up
just make it up
it'll be just fine,

I must go unafraid into the long night
an endless spinning soulful top
one that I hope won't soon stop
I am like an aurasma
my own Galaxy
past the Milky Way
Listen close to what I say,

As demons flee & I can see
in every lovely memory,
please say you'll remember me
& our history,
kicked around & on the ground
I still hear that painful sound
I think I'll  even maybe drown,

I might be a muse
that the heavens abuse
or my words that they want to use,
intentions are everything,
listening & glistening

Watch me burn,
ya know I never learn,
don't put me out,
or even pout
we can't doubt,
hear me fry,
Cuz I,

I just keep swimming
as waters are brimming,
& stones are we are skimming
tredding in cold waters,
waves pull me under,
fires grow hotter,
a thinking blotter,
cleaving bones I am asunder
& broke apart by rampant thunder,

Breathless & gasping
my hands are grasping
in desperation & despair
cannot pretend that I don't care,
something that I must share,
I see a shore,
& I've seen it before,
just beyond the waiting door,

A mascara smudge
but please don't judge,
or hold a silly hateful grudge
I'm through the wading of the sludge
I just wouldn't budge,
it just took a nudge,

Because a beautiful mind
one so very, very kind,
protected by the hands of time
a precious thing
a voice, I sing
heard in my poetic choice,
undiluted  not refuted
undisclosed, many ohhh's
a twitching nose,
teaching all in what we know
to be silent is a terrible wasted gift
to not hear that sound,
bring a voice around,
the voices ring,
I've had a taste,
my shoes are laced
I can keep the pace,

To not write,
to seal the vain,
relief from pain,
would be a terrible waste
of a divinely inspired pen. ❤

Cherie Nolan© 2016

Walk away from Self-destructive behavior.
Keep reminding yourself that you have self-worth.
For with the right attitude and Christ help doing it.
You could so easily be the miracle in others lives.
Self-Worth seeing the truth that you are not junk.
That with the help of the Living Savior at your side.
You can allow him to become the difference in other lives.
For we as people can not change our lives or others.
But with the Help of Christ we can become world-changers.

Old pathways what wonders they restate we know not what the future holds but what loves
The past offers lost loves friends that had measures of greatness they instilled in us riches that
We still give to those we know we let them slip from conscious but at certain times their
Excellence flares white hot we in that moment trim our sails as sailors far out at sea a
Noticeable change of character occurs a trace of intense emotional savvy rest in our words and
The actions we perform at that time we recall school friends they stood out as different they
Had a class about them they were ladies or gentlemen in a sea of crassness they were game
Changers they beatified an otherwise normal picture they had those special times budded into
Heroes in those years they were never told such things I have several in mind that it is long over
Do know you were special and as time goes by your riches only grow more precious they stood
For something they caused you to look at yourself and say I can do better they were a comfort
When outside maters were painful life is a great work of art all in parts that make the kindest
And greatest whole their lives in miniature was the showing of who they would become and in
It all they were investing in all of our lives what kind of flat and lackluster world would it be with
Out them I know my heart longs for them in memory for whatever reason that they are lost
Truly as the poet John Donne said it so succinctly no man is an island to himself no all of the
Ones I know I see the streams of so many beautiful souls flowing into your life from the past
Some was invigorated with tears or laughter sock hops or sporting events and so many ways
The Torrent flows without restraint in doing so you were made stronger kinder and at time
Weaker So that you could draw from those that were stronger what a difference just little acts
Make when they reach you in timeless perfection the value can never be adequately
Understood or told here I’m going to speak of some in my life and I would like you to do the
Same it will truly enrich this time of the year little girl with the most beautiful curls that used to
Live behind a grocery store now married to a young man that set many hours out on his porch
Because his mother was gone I have never stopped sitting with him in that long ago sorrow
I knew what it felt like to ne motherless I had a life with rough spots but I knew a guy
That was a pure gentleman even as a teenager I grew by his calm and lovely life my first days in
School were rescued by someone who was kind hearted his heart as only grown larger over the
Years I don’t tell him or so many others how I appreciate them so I’m doing it now God bless
You all and thank you I will name one she just passed through a rough spot and Donna I wish
You all the best dear one Happy birthday Doug Happy birthday Cheryl thanks for the richness
Of your lives that truly grows and blesses this life

I avoid those serious talks
Ya know,
The ones about everything you hold inside
Who doesn't?
Oh yea
Attention ******
But guess what?!
I don't brag about my problems
I choose very carefully
Who I want to talk to
Most of the time I don't choose anyone
But things like that
Really kinda do need to be talked about
Lift that weight off your chest
But
It's hard for me to get started
When someone asks
"How are you"
I made it a habit to say
"Okay"
like yea
I'm perfectly awesome
And a tiny part of me wants that person to detect something in my eyes
But it never happens
I'm either a super good liar
Or they just honestly don't give a ****
And I bet I could guess which
I just really have a hard time
Like I get the urge to invite someone to have a coffee with me
Just so we can talk about all the bad things
Get it out of the way
I know...
How awful is that?
But I feel like my life is a huge secret to everyone
I need friends who know how to be honest
Who care and want to know me
Good and bad
I can't handle fake people
Or those people that are addicted to attention
I don't want to be one of those people who want people to pity them
I don't want pity or anything like that
#1 reason why I don't talk willingly
I just want someone to listen
And hopefully understand a little bit
And I'll listen right back
I need some kind of
Normal
Non dramatic
Serious
Equal
Friendly
Talk
Those people that either don't say anything at all
Or they give you advice on your problems
That's what I like
Those people that listen and then say
"Oh well I have problems like that"
Or
"Oh well my dog ran away"
Or
"Oh well I went to comb my hair and..."
Subject changers
They direct everything towards themselves
Attention stealers
It's like
Come on
I can't talk to you
Nothing I even say goes in your head
All it does is make you think about yourself
When it's like
I'm asking you for help
And your talking about yourself
That helps me a lot
Thanks
But seriously
Just a friend to keep updates with
Share our current situations
Back and forth
Equally listening and caring
Please tell me you know what I mean

Born into this world, we were called to live

Not knowing what to do with ourselves

Going about with every breath drawn in

We were placed in different shelves

Experiencing our own trial and strife



Amidst this difference,  we were united by one goal

Appointed to take that certain path

Everyone unsure

About facing the world’s wrath

But do we ever find the cure?



We are only students



Day breaks but night falls

Shadows (sins) are present everywhere

In every area of our lives, our vitality.

Shadows of laziness, insult, lust

Greed, and gluttony



Ships sail, but how many land?

New Years’ resolution,

Faith goals that came with tenacity

Spirit willing, but flesh weak.

Revealing vulnerability



Forever drowning in the ocean

Of hate and insecurity

Forever craving the essence

Of peace and serenity

And tranquility



Endlessly quarreling

About the littlest things

And controversies

Talking Apple vs Samsung vs Sony

How unnecessary!



We are only students.

          

As the seasons brush by

And each day slips past

We start to accept

God has no purpose and plan for me...


Thoughts of

will I ever get into a university?
or
do I have a bright future ahead me?





That is the Beauty of God.

No matter how many times you have sinned against Him

how many times you have ran away

He still say’s “Come to Me those who are burdened and weary”

from Mrs. Rocha to Ms. Linny,

Teachers that train and Mold

the world changers of the 21st century  



Jeremiah 29:11: “ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Deuteronomy 31:16
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Those two verses has something in common

put your trust in Him, You will surely never come to ruin!



We are students.



prepared to take on every single challenge

to expand the kingdom

here on earth

future teachers

future Preachers

future servant leaders of this nation!

STAND UP!

for we are not just students but ambassadors

ambassadors of Christ

called to reach out

and change the system of sin!

to be the salt and light and be the very foundation,

for the coming generation and the next


so they may no longer see to hesitation

hesitation to do what is good,

and what is pleasing,

hesitation to to serve the King!

cause for every slumber there is an Awakening!

so wake up from this blasted dream,

and let Him wipe away every spec of sin!

for He is the only one!



So go forth! go forth and be leaders,

leaders that will lead the lost through the darkness that is upon them.

So that the Father can save them.

So He Can fix them!

Chapel might end today, but never stop praising Him!

We are

Supporters
Romancers
Outcasters

And we speak to the minds of

the Many
the Few
Them
You

Well versed, Poetically penned

words that touch any
emotional brew
spinning mind's web
figuratively true

Mindful heroes, masters of pens

war changers
heart wrenchers
Nation founders
generation movers

We are the poems
We are the poetic
We are Poets

Father and Mother Noah both
Sailed away when in wide rushed
Tides to tower over the land,
To cover the mountains high at hand,
Axe-cut planks whereon they plod
Made to float on the waters’ top.

Song of the Aardvarks

In the very heart of us
The most essential part of us
Is our total love of life
To dig in the termite mound alive,
Lie in our burrow with bellies full,
Scratch and breed at the season’s pull.

Front limbs arms like ape or bear
Eight little shovels drive deep in there
Small mouth only needs to take
Termites, with its tubule teeth
Distant elephant our nearest kin
Freaks of evolution.

Song of Mother Noah

In this Ark I cradle safe
My suckling babies free from scathe
Silky kids velvet eared
Little woolly moggies dear
All shall live. None shall die
As the waters rise on high.

Song of the Hawks

She stoops upon them in her sudden flight
The wild mice fleeing at the killing sight,
Her talons long and razor sharp
Drive in with force to pick them up
Meat got, while the sessile male
Scarce a third of a bird is of a look pale.

Song of the Dove

White as a church
Or sepulchre
Blue sea and sky
I rise among
To fly abroad
If land should lie
Where love and peace
May flourish free
In life thereby.

Song of Father Noah on First Releasing the Dove

Because of the evil hearts of men
Out of the sky God sent the rain
The money changers pimps and thieves
Wasted in the oceans’ leave,
Here I put upon the seas
A bird who much more planet sees
With tale to tell of land again.
Go or come just as you please,
Sheltered from the hot Sun’s ray
Safe in the Ark the rest shall stay.

Song of the Sloth

Slow up from lying-down I get
To take my weight on idle foot,
From a heavy, a deep repose
I only stir when to toilet I goes.

Song of Father Noah on Next Releasing the Dove

My clever bird, far off you fared,
The four horizons close compared
Returned to us with bitter word
Dry land had not yet occurred

Song of the ******

All my tendons strong and thin
Stretch to drive a lockpiece in
Hard labour long to make the lodge
Into which to deftly dodge
If danger or else winter threats
The brook closed off as if with gates.

Song of Father Noah on Last Releasing the Dove

Olive tree like ancient man
Ever twisting with your sister
You give us oil for light and pan
And meat; Shade, fruit and timber useful
– Sage bird, a branch to me you bore,
Fly, little god, and come no more.

Song of All the Animals on Being Returned to Dry Land

Ants to hills, cattle to pasture
Birds to trees whatever comes after,
The cleaned land populates anew

Song of the Whales

If a whale come on the land
Put it back if ever you can
Else think it a death parental
Grave, give it respectful funeral.

This is an open letter to anyone who feels the need to share their poetry with me
This is an open letter for anyone who wants to bury their face in an endless succession of books with me
This is an open letter to anyone who will listen to records with me at 2 A.M.
Someone who will buy me coffee with a bit of sugar, but more creamer
This is an open letter to anyone who wants to watch the cars go by with me
Someone who will warm up my heart with cups of soup and soft blankets
This is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to love me for myself
Someone who will not shout and hold my wrists down when I cut my hair too short
This is an open letter to the adventures, the game changers.
I need truthfulness.
I need laughter.
I need someone to fill up the empty cracks in the delves of my palms.
I want silly candids in the city.
I crave long nights spent driving around, staring at flashing streetlights on an abandoned road.
I want postcards sent from everywhere you've ever stopped and missed the tone of my voice and my unsettling hands.
An open letter to those who collect seashells, like a ******* addiction.
To those who love thunderstorms as much as I do, and would much rather hide in the rain than bask in the sun.
Rain is for us, you know.
To those who will dazzle me with their immense vocabulary.
Those who will capture my attention like sharp swords catch the edge of fabric on your right shoulder.
Those who want to stay up until the sun peaks up from behind the tall mountains and wraps words around my skin in the early hours of dawn.
The ones who whisper sweet nothings on the phone with me until I drift off to sleep
An invitation to those who kiss with their eyes closed and imagine the days and nights passing between our lips.
To those who believe lightning is just God taking pictures of us, he wants to see how you're doing.
This is an open letter to those who live to write and write to live.
To those who thrive on the emotions behind paintings and live to see their fingers swell.
This is an invite to anyone who isn't afraid to become messy with me
To dance in our underwear while we paint fresh daisies on the apartment walls
To those who aren't afraid to eat Popsicles with me on the kitchen floor.
To those who help me find endings in places I need to place a period.
This is an open invite to anyone who is willing to light off fireworks with me on the courthouse lawn.
A careful boy with thick brown hair
And sea green eyes
Freckles and thick framed glasses
A boy who isn't afraid to get his hands *****
A nightowl
A poet
He carries a brief case around and calls me darling.
His favorite thing is big spoon
And his inspirations come from me
He's never lied to me once
He doesn't like sports, but sometimes he can go for a game of soccer
He always takes photos of me when I'm not looking and he collects them like the way he collects metaphors
He wants to be wanted as much as I do
And he looks for me too
I love you
I hope to meet you soon

A thousand fires raged in the valley of my heart,
burned the orchards to cinder

A hundred rivers flooded the plains of my soul,
drowned the good harvest

Ten thousand warriors destroyed my ego's fortress,
took the women and butchered the knights

They led me away in chains

The money-changers cast me out of the Temple,


You are within me,

and that is enough to break this prison

Like a rusty old nail on an old boat, a business class seat on a plan that takes you somewhere were the stars don't don't glow.

From searching for the keys to the ferrari that's as slow as a donkey goes, from been promised a dream that's so amazing you have to go.

People with out friends traveling to a new boarder, running away from they land a place were peace is consumed by death and hatred is all over they land.

We all have a story to tell a traumatic experience our life becomes a living hell. 

And wen all seems down and depression is the mood, you hear about this drop-in it sounds to good to be true, everybody we trusted on our journey has hurt us.

We walk in to the drop-in confused broken and used, we greeted with a smile! hello my friend! how can I help you.

Would you like a cup of tea or something to eat? Or would you like to sit down hear please take my seat. And slowly it changers our trauma starts mending. 

Our trust starts growing our smiles are now glowing, we left our friends in search for new boards.

Now we have found happiness with friends without boarders.   

JidosReality 6.2.16 (Dedicated to all the Refugees)

I don't want anyone reading this to develop an assumption about me but I admire the man you know? So I conducted an "interview" to see if I get it.....  Actually the person conducting the interview is not what I would necessarily ask or how I would behave. Instead it is an imaginary person who at times asks questions that reveal his own biases and brainwashed mind.

Jesus, why do I carry a hammer and a nail?
     It is easier to judge than to forgive
Jesus, why do I need you to speak for me?
     My father wants you to live
Jesus, why can I not turn the other cheek?
     You only know how to cause pain
Jesus, how should I live my life?
     Providing shelter to the poor is your aim
Jesus, should I become a rich man?
     Whose life do you wish to mimic?
Jesus, am I bound by the old law?
     The laws are the notes; listen to the music
Jesus, why did you have to die on the cross?
     To demonstrate the cruelty in the world
Jesus, why didn't you save yourself?
     So my father's glory would be unfurled
Jesus, why were you not covered in gold?
     Earthly riches separate mankind from one another
Jesus, why did you accept a sinner?
     Have you ever met anything other?
Jesus, why did you stop the stoning?
     To bring your sin into view
Jesus, why did you tell her to sin no more?
     She is no different than you
Jesus, should we punish others for their sins?
     Why does this concern you so?
Jesus, there are so many bad people
     Your own heart is all you really know
Jesus, shouldn't we fight evil?
     Who made them that way?
Jesus, God has blessed our country!
     There are no borders that keep God away
Jesus, we have to **** the enemy
     Blessed are the peacemakers
Jesus, they want to **** us!
     Are you the money changers?
Jesus, how can a country be moral?
     It all starts with you
Jesus, I'm just one person
     There are others waiting too
Jesus, I'm a good person
     Why do you scorn the poor?
Jesus, I work hard for my money
     But what's important, you ignore
Jesus, what's important?
     Loving thy neighbor
Jesus, I do love my neighbor!
     And yet there are so many you abhor
Jesus, I could never be like you
     All I ask is that you try
Jesus, I can't earn my way to heaven
     You must ask or you will die
Jesus, why must I ask?
     Because you have free will
Jesus, give me a sign
     I want to see if you are faithful
Jesus, why do I have to be faithful?
     Because you will not believe your own eyes
Jesus, I promise this time I will
     Mankind only believes the lies
Jesus, why does God love me?
     Do you love your own child?
Jesus, why doesn't he just accept me?
     He does even if you are reviled
Jesus, why does he want my love?
     He is made in your image
Jesus, what does that mean?
     Inside your emotions lives the message
Jesus, isn't life just about science?
     Can you measure love?
Jesus, I only believe what is proven
     Noah only needed a dove
Jesus, everyone thinks you are a myth
     What does your heart say?
Jesus, I am ashamed to bear your name
     Then why do you not turn away?
Jesus, if I believe will there still be pain?
     You were born in pain along with grace
Jesus, did I lose God's grace?
     Your pure heart God did not erase
Jesus, why do I feel so unworthy?
     Because you are finally humbled
Jesus, what is left of me?
     Out of stone love was chiseled
Jesus, I want to go to heaven!
     All who thirst for God will be welcome
Jesus, take me with you!
     *I will lead you to God's kingdom

To the poets and dreamers of the world
You are the visionaries
You are the changers
You are the lovers
Who express their emotions in form of words
The world needs your creativity

dreams are weird. they’re like experiences that you think are true, but are not.
dreams are barely lucid. there are bits and pieces you can remember, and then you can’t.
dreams are perspective changers. you can no longer see the people around you the same way again—
not if they contribute to a disturbing dream you had.
dreams are painful. if you fall in it, you fall in real life.
it’s an out-of-body experience.
i hope to have better dreams;
or dream no more.

I would give all my worldly goods,

Just to spend one day, on the banks of my youth.

Swimming across the river Blackwater, the deepest hole,

The Bullworks, the river, was my second home.


I'd dive from the board to reach rock bottom,

That first drink was years away,

My young blood was pure and flowed like red wine,

My mind was as clean as the water I swam in.


But life intervened , and changed all that,

I reached rock bottom, miles and years from the swimming hole.

I sunk to the bottom.

Crimson   blood , that once flowed like red wine,

Clogged up and tainted, often made  me act like a swine.


I'll never forget that old swimming hole,

when life was as simple , as a Pencil and ruler,

and a Jig-Saw puzzle, was an Apple computer.


By Holly Barrett