"couldst" poems
i.
Iniibig kita
Mahal Kita;
Minamahal Kita,
Iniirog kita.
ii.
Here do I cometh, I'm on mine way. The skies art clear tonight, just a tint of fine gray; though I spread mine plumage, fracture the tone, I knoweth one day, O' verily one day- I'll findeth mine way home.
And I thinkest, when I findeth the bungalow, I wilt rest, after long
Passage alone. As thou I wilt bestow, mine Lip's on thy own; quietly humming, Sayaw tayo?
iii.
A Tagal na ah, a Tagal na ah, now I'm here mine love, I've made it mine queen; some sayest dream's don't cometh true, Only if the other's couldst find; they discern science, just not the sign's of the times.
Though we behold, the spirit and soul, and ourn creator, the crowned head of the world's; Hallowed be his name, Yahweh, father Jehovah, known also Elohim. His son Yeshua ha'mashiach, English language "Jesus the anointed one". The son above all son's. Jane, mine queen.
iv.
Iniibig kita
Mahal Kita;
Minamahal Kita,
Iniirog kita.
Tagal na ah
Tagal na ah;
Now in thy
Grip, with
Mine kiss,
On thy Lip's
I place mine
Vow's. O'
Yadid, yadid,
Never let me go
Agapi mou-
Zoi mou,
Se latrevo
Mine queen.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedication
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
The irony of mankind,
They maketh technology to better their lives
And yet,
Their technology
Is ruining their lives....
The irony...
As tis they couldst use that wired technology for healing
They use it for bombing and killing..
As tis they couldst use it for connecting
The fact is
They've all gone unconnected!!!!!!
Hiding behind some screen,
Forgetting what an old fashioned phone call is.....
Connection, man thought this technological advance wouldst do.
Disconnection is what is hast really brought them......
The irony.....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
i.
Beset next to me
Coadjuvant to mine need's;
I couldst not asketh for more
Mine Reyna's all do I believeth.
ii.
She compasses me in Dwarf Daylilies
Her suntanned dermis is momentous;
Wallowed in her oversea's memories
A throne surpassing, Hari and Reyna scented.
iii.
In Luzon, the older part of the firma
Betwixt the Cordillera Region, see through pneuma's;
Hand-poke tool's, for me and mine dynasty amour'
To get tattoos, of her ancestry upon her own shore's.
iv.
Covered head to toe
By these inked protection's;
Spelling out the word's
Brandon and Jane's resurrection.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane dedication/Reyna of mine soul
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
A soul, a survivor of an emptied dark pit
We calleth the planet-globe; Certes a western
Mountain glow. She giveth all, even to those
Who cometh with hatred, she's outspoken,
Unbroken, willing and thus patient. A prophetess
Of the clandestine; her poetry as wine to relax
Men and boy's, girl's who knoweth none joy- she
Bringeth the finest of lingo. Even with her own
Worries, she let's thine head, with her comforting
Word's- relax upon thine pillow. She's verily a
Poetess of the native land's meadow's. O' soul-
Survivor, with an open heart and kindred-spirit.
Only if everyone couldst seeith thy light, they'd
All come near it.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Birthday dedicated to soul-survivor....
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
i.
Mine artistry inamorata
Airburshed on tapestry upon;
Fernando Amorsolo canvas.
ii.
Thou art mine Atlantis
The air I sucketh in;
Mine piece of God, timeless.
iii.
What id do without thee?
I couldst not liveth;
I'll giveth thee mine last drop, of blood mine dear.
iv.
Cometh near
Shadow's dance with us;
Filipino perfume's, ancient dusk.
v.
In the negrito of Luzon
Bead's shalt bounce ourn neck's;
Red one's, yellow one's, tribal seed connect.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Tis I am just a man, a boy if thou want to sayest, a foolish lad; who hast hurt his blessing of a queen.
Tis I am just a man, a sinner, a prehistoric bringer; of sorrows
Where bird's dont sing.
O' wretched man I am; overlooking this perfect flower, she's arrayed as a petal neath the tropical hours.
O' im just the rain that brings the flood of many woes.
I wish, O' how I wish, I couldst pour all contentment and merriment into her lonesome soul.
Tis she's the rainbow, I the dusky storm. O' how her glow maketh mine day's liveable; O' how her voice is opulent galore.
If only she knew, she is mine better, mine best; mine breath of yellow dew.
Though I've not shown her the worth that she is; mine trials and tribulations hast become
mine abyss.
Though I shalt get through
This passage of gloom.
With God All is possible;
Even being set free from this tomb.
Tis I am just a man, a boy if thou want to sayest, a foolish lad.
Who if couldst wouldst start all afresh; re-giving mine love, and to get all mine best.
How a simpleton ive been;
To not seest heaven's eastern gem, glimmer her perfect wing's, for mine foolishness, these word's shalt I sing.
(Goes into song form, words "I love you jane, please forgive me" sung in spanish, greek, cebuano, tagalog/filipino).......
(Spanish)
Te amo jane,
por favor perdoname.
(Greek)
Se 'agapó Jane,
Se parakaló synchóresé me.
(Cebuano)
ako nahigugma kanimo Jane,
palihug pasayloa ako.
(Tagalog/filipino)
Mahal kita jane,
patawarin mo ako.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
©earl Jane nagley dedication (agapi mou dedicated)
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
i.
Agone day's, I kneweth not amour' mine godly Apostle
I only understood fear, sorrow's, none outlook for tomorrow;
Though I kneweth, ourn creator wouldst send me a seraph
Twas I, was only a serf, I didn't not deserve a queen and a angel.
ii.
I never couldst discover where that secret treasure was hidden
I looked, and waited, and hoped, also hopeless on the find;
I wore mine heart on mine sleeve, waiting, waiting, none to be,
But now I do knoweth, Jehovah hadst his plan, thee: one in tan.
iii.
Yahweh tooketh away, all the substandard's and ourn past strife's
Just at his right moment, in his will, not ourn own, he made right;
He parted the sea's, and moonlit dream's, for me and thee lover
For me and thee queen, forever to be; eternally husband an wife.
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
Shall I compare thee to the butterfly,
Thou hast more beauty, more strength, and more grace.
Rough winds do blow paper wings toward the sky,
And an icy chill doest berate h’r face.
The weight of h’r first original form:
But a caterpillar, she did abhor,
Brings onto h’r face a look so forlorn
Alas! One day she proclaimed she would soar!
With wings so frail, she emerged from her sleep,
With a new body, h’r soul couldst keepeth
To findeth a love so quaint and so deep,
Upon my gaze, thee did take hence mine breath.
I hath’t such adoration for thy soul,
For t’ is mine weak heart, yond hath’t quickly stole.
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 10:22 PM UTC
i.
I thought of the former second's
Hours, day's night's;
How unaccompanied and lonesome I felt.
ii.
I remembered, even whilst being with former
Others, how I kneweth mine heart and soul for them wasn't meant; as mine prayer's to god was sent, the pain I dealt.
iii.
As tis the time was uneasy for me, knowing I couldst be in the crowd, with none to truly loveth me as I them, mine soul screaming loud; lord where is thine angel thou hath prepared?
iv.
As tis I thought last evening, through all mine sorrow's, pain's, and dreaming's. God, mine father heard me, as I wept, and slept;
How he waited for me to go through mine trial's and tribulations.
v.
As after going through prison, through cell's, through false dealer's, in real hell. I, remembered last eve', god doth not do thing's in or on mine time; the creator doth thing's in his span.
vi.
Not according to the way's nor law's of men, but to him, as whilst I layeth down happily looking at mine queen through this faraway screen, I hadst the thought, God gaveth me the answer to what I've prayed for a long whilst; he gaveth me jane, for mine health.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
I miss mine homie,
Who in the world's name is homie? One mayeth ask.....
Well homie
Is mine old German Shepherd.....
Dad named him that
Funny yes I know.... Long story ....
And though I haveth many Angel's here on earth......
Homie,
Was mine true pet angel....
He always watched out for me when I was around nine years old.
And when one day,
At mine birthday party...
Mine friends tried to be OK with homie,
As me and homie were soulmates friend and being wise...
So mine friend's tried to feed homie through his fence hotdogs,
Like I did with no problem...
And mine old buddy Danny found out.
Homie didn't eat hot dog's
Unless I Gaveth them to him ....
Me, his best friend and soulmate!
Fed them to him....
As I saw homie ready to rip Danny's hand off...
I just chuckled and told homie...
Down boy down...
Homie always listened...
He was mine soulmate....
My do I miss mine homie...
As I remembered one day coming home from school...
Mum picking me up from that young learning center,
She said son I got something to tell thee,
On the way home...
(Yes mum)
I said...
Well,
Homie died
I found him whilst thou was at school son...
( said mum)
I couldn't say nothing
I think I just said really?
As mum told me
He was found in his doghouse
Curled up
Dead.....
I questioned her?
Where is he mother?
Wherein did thou layeth his body mum?
I asked....
She told me she had taken him to some place about fifteen minutes away,
And buried him in some wood's....
I wasn't angry with her.
Nor even father,
I was hurt because I didint get to see his body...
I was hurt because I told mother and father all the time...
Bring him INSIDE!!!!!!
When it got cold...
As I remember it was cold
And snowing when he died........
Yes I understood homie was a big dog
And couldst be a little wild at times....
Though we had a basement
With rooms in that basement
And couldst haveth put a cage down there....
So I felt horrible I didint just bring him in
Even though they thought it was fine to stay outside
During winter......
Mum thought he was poisoned
By someone putting something in his food....
My opinion is he died alone,
When I was gone,
And froze to death....
Don't like thinking of it...
I just miss him to mine soul!!!!!!!!!
I forgive mum and dad not angry,
Just canst waiteth to see mine angel again...
R.I.P homie baby boy...
See you in heaven (:
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered **** of small worth held.
Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy ***** days,
To say within thine own deep sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty’s use,
If thou couldst answer, “This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,”
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.
2.7k
If 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth graciously on silence's table,
and studyeth mine own evolved, yet un-evolv'd self,
undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
by w'rld's brightest gulf
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth comf'rtably on peace's table,
and gaze mine own wounded, yet un-wound'd self,
un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
by w'rld's s'rry self
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth calmly on agony's table,
and obs'rve mine own painful, yet not painful self,
unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
by w'rld's weirdest self,
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth fain on glee's table,
with mine own eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
by w'rld's unrequit'd self
. and grineth backeth, at myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
twill forsooth beest a did bless, contending miracle,
as yond's at which hour i couldst pateth & greeteth myself,
in real, in real, in real!
and maketh this fact p'rceivable,
yond our w'rld may sure oft hest struggles,
and our m're existence in t,
may just beest negligible,
but we nev'r gotta f'rget
to stayeth hopeful, smileth and giggle,
nay matt'r how hard the struggles,
as yond's the most wondrous fuel,
yond can oft causeth miracles,
in a w'rld,
so obsess'd with struggles!
And then with a sigheth,
a blooming grineth,
yet a sparkling desire within,
i'll did bid myself,
a farewell
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon,
The plain was full of ghosts,
I wandered up, I wandered down,
Beset by pensive hosts.
The winding Concord gleamed below,
Pouring as wide a flood
As when my brothers long ago,
Came with me to the wood.
But they are gone,— the holy ones,
Who trod with me this lonely vale,
The strong, star-bright companions
Are silent, low, and pale.
My good, my noble, in their prime,
Who made this world the feast it was,
Who learned with me the lore of time,
Who loved this dwelling-place.
They took this valley for their toy,
They played with it in every mood,
A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,
They treated nature as they would.
They colored the horizon round,
Stars flamed and faded as they bade,
All echoes hearkened for their sound,
They made the woodlands glad or mad.
I touch this flower of silken leaf
Which once our childhood knew
Its soft leaves wound me with a grief
Whose balsam never grew.
Hearken to yon pine warbler
Singing aloft in the tree;
Hearest thou, O traveller!
What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear
With sorrow such as mine,
Out of that delicate lay couldst thou
The heavy dirge divine.
Go, lonely man, it saith,
They loved thee from their birth,
Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,
There are no such hearts on earth.
Ye drew one mother's milk,
One chamber held ye all;
A very tender history
Did in your childhood fall.
Ye cannot unlock your heart,
The key is gone with them;
The silent ***** loudest chants
The master's requiem.
2.4k
Peace? and to all the world? sure, One
And He the Prince of Peace, hath none.
He travels to be born, and then
Is born to travel more again.
Poor Galilee! thou canst not be
The place for His nativity.
His restless mother’s called away,
And not delivered till she pay.
A tax? ’tis so still! we can see
The church thrive in her misery;
And like her Head at Bethlem, rise
When she, oppressed with troubles, lies.
Rise? should all fall, we cannot be
In more extremities than He.
Great Type of passions! come what will,
Thy grief exceeds all copies still.
Thou cam’st from heaven to earth, that we
Might go from earth to heaven with Thee.
And though Thou foundest no welcome here,
Thou didst provide us mansions there.
A stable was Thy court, and when
Men turned to beasts, beasts would be men.
They were Thy courtiers, others none;
And their poor manger was Thy throne.
No swaddling silks Thy limbs did fold,
Though Thou couldst turn Thy rays to gold.
No rockers waited on Thy birth,
No cradles stirred, nor songs of mirth;
But her chaste lap and sacred breast
Which lodged Thee first did give Thee rest.
But stay: what light is that doth stream,
And drop here in a gilded beam?
It is Thy star runs page, and brings
Thy tributary Eastern kings.
Lord! grant some light to us, that we
May with them find the way to Thee.
Behold what mists eclipse the day:
How dark it is! shed down one ray
To guide us out of this sad night,
And say once more, “Let there be light.”
2.2k
Not by one measure mayst thou mete our love;
For how should I be loved as I love thee?—
I, graceless, joyless, lacking absolutely
All gifts that with thy queenship best behove;—
Thou, throned in every heart’s elect alcove,
And crowned with garlands culled from every tree,
Which for no head but thine, by Love’s decree,
All beauties and all mysteries interwove.
But here thine eyes and lips yield soft rebuke:—
‘Then only,’ (say’st thou), ‘could I love thee less,
When thou couldst doubt my love’s equality.’
Peace, sweet! If not to sum but worth we look,
Thy heart’s transcendence, not my heart’s excess,
Then more a thousandfold thou lov’st than I.
2.1k
(Proverbs, viii. 22-31)
"Ere God had built the mountains,
Or raised the fruitful hills;
Before he fill'd the fountains
That feed the running rills;
In me from everlasting,
The wonderful I am,
Found pleasures never wasting,
And Wisdom is my name.
"When, like a tent to dwell in,
He spread the skies abroad,
And swathed about the swelling
Of Ocean's mighty flood;
He wrought by weight and measure,
And I was with Him then:
Myself the Father's pleasure,
And mine, the sons of men."
Thus Wisdom's words discover
Thy glory and Thy grace,
Thou everlasting lover
Of our unworthy race!
Thy gracious eye survey'd us
Ere stars were seen above;
In wisdom thou hast made us,
And died for us in love.
And couldst thou be delighted
With creatures such as we,
Who, when we saw Thee, slighted,
And nail'd Thee to a tree?
Unfathomable wonder,
And mystery divine!
The voice that speaks in thunder,
Says, "Sinner, I am thine!"
2k
Take the dead Christ to my chamber,
The Christ I brought from Rome;
Over all the tossing ocean,
He has reached his western home;
Bear him as in procession,
And lay him solemnly
Where, through weary night and morning,
He shall bear me company.
The name I bear is other
Than that I bore by birth,
And I've given life to children
Who'll grow and dwell on earth;
But the time comes swiftly towards me
(Nor do I bid it stay),
When the dead Christ will be more to me
Than all I hold to-day.
Lay the dead Christ beside me,
Oh, press him on my heart,
I would hold him long and painfully
Till the weary tears should start;
Till the divine contagion
Heal me of self and sin,
And the cold weight press wholly down
The pulse that chokes within.
Reproof and frost, they fret me,
Towards the free, the sunny lands,
From the chaos of existence
I stretch these feeble hands;
And, penitential, kneeling,
Pray God would not be wroth,
Who gave not the strength of feeling,
And strength of labor both.
Thou'rt but a wooden carving,
Defaced of worms, and old;
Yet more to me thou couldst not be
Wert thou all wrapt in gold,
Like the gem-bedizened baby
Which, at the Twelth-day noon,
They show from the Ara Coeli's steps,
To a merry dancing tune.
I ask of thee no wonders,
No changing white or red;
I dream not thou art living,
I love and prize thee dead.
That salutary deadness
I seek, through want and pain,
From which God's own high power can bid
Our virtue rise again.
1.9k
i.
Dearest Jane, I knoweth thou hath lost thine sweet pet
But little Choco wilt never forgetteth thy love, or thy caress;
Dearest Jane, I knoweth thine little hamster meant thy all
But Jane dearest, knoweth he's happy, in a pain free place of God.
ii.
Dearest Reyna, I knoweth many tear's, thou hath shed for choco
Just knoweth mine queen, his spirit's next to thee, in clear view;
Dearest amour, he wilt be missed by me and thou, he's in cloud's
Dearest soulmate, he's sitting, waiting at heaven's gate, in shroud.
iii.
Dearest Filipino rose, ourn Choco is not just some ghost
Dearest Filipino rose, thine infant is smiling, serpahim his host;
Dearest kilig bringer, I'm here to comfort thee from pain stinger's
Dearest jane, if I couldst I'd let god taketh mine life, to save choco.
iv.
Dearest creation of celestial's, choco is extraterrestrial
Dearest amare, thou wilt pet thine friend again, when times here;
Dearest joy of life, soon to be wife, mine all, mine light, comfort
Dearest Jane, dryeth thine water, choco is better, as I'll make thou
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane/her pet choco dedication
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
She feeleth and thinketh she hast none worth,
If only I couldst showeth her the truth.....
That there is no Ruby
Nor gem,
Nor diamond,
Nor any brick of laden gold,
Nor any treasure chest,
Nor any amount of the worthless dollar bill,
That couldst buyeth who she is
Physically,
Spiritually,
Mentally,
Emotionally,
In all way's.....
No other reserve of this carnal world shalt showeth her the worth she hath....
She is an upper galaxy divine messenger,
Not to just me
But to others;
As her worth isn't measured by earth-like standard.....
No material canst measure up to her merit........
She cometh from her luna,
The one wherein the seraph's wander.....
And art caregivers
And helper's
And they art the true hopeless romantic's of the blue orb air....
She is worth more, than anything to God,
Yet,
She doesn't quite fully understand yet......
But to me,
She's worth living for.
She's worth dying for,
She's worth this life.
As the next
And the next
And the next
And the next
And the next
Then the next
Then the next
Then the next
Then the next
Then the next.........
As she's worth it so much to me I shalt wait a million more next's just for her to be with me.....as she's worth more than anything!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
i.
Afire is mine aura as I soar over thine spirit to get a peek.
I seeith being, living, animation, the light ive alway's sought,
The abode I shalt alway's keep, afore didst I weep, and I couldst not sleep, mine anguish once didst creep; as Poe with his raven.
ii.
Though now do I rejoice, for thee I shalt shout in conquering the celestial's, I shalt reverberate in thine mind, mine voice; leaving flashes of comforting butterfly song's moist. None need for other women, none question's for choice, for thou art mine one and only.
iii.
Amour' evident, not phony, bower me rosas ng diyos: in thine core I feeleth ***** None more brine from ourn sight's, just water of life flowing, none dismay or might's, none distress or downward flight's, just gliding together, two bird's of a feather.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( filipino rosas)
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
For the first twenty years since yesterday
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
For forty more I fed on favors past,
And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last.
Tears drowned one hundred, and sighs blew out two,
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you,
Or in a thousand more forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life, but think that I
Am, by being dead, immortal. Can ghosts die?
1.6k
Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon,
The plain was full of ghosts,
I wandered up, I wandered down,
Beset by pensive hosts.
The winding Concord gleamed below,
Pouring as wide a flood
As when my brothers long ago,
Came with me to the wood.
But they are gone,— the holy ones,
Who trod with me this lonely vale,
The strong, star-bright companions
Are silent, low, and pale.
My good, my noble, in their prime,
Who made this world the feast it was,
Who learned with me the lore of time,
Who loved this dwelling-place.
They took this valley for their toy,
They played with it in every mood,
A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,
They treated nature as they would.
They colored the horizon round,
Stars flamed and faded as they bade,
All echoes hearkened for their sound,
They made the woodlands glad or mad.
I touch this flower of silken leaf
Which once our childhood knew
Its soft leaves wound me with a grief
Whose balsam never grew.
Hearken to yon pine warbler
Singing aloft in the tree;
Hearest thou, O traveller!
What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear
With sorrow such as mine,
Out of that delicate lay couldst thou
The heavy dirge divine.
Go, lonely man, it saith,
They loved thee from their birth,
Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,
There are no such hearts on earth.
Ye drew one mother's milk,
One chamber held ye all;
A very tender history
Did in your childhood fall.
Ye cannot unlock your heart,
The key is gone with them;
The silent ***** loudest chants
The master's requiem.
1.6k
Child of a day, thou knowest not
The tears that overflow thy urn,
The gushing eyes that read thy lot,
Nor, if thou knewest, couldst return!
And why the wish! the pure and blest
Watch like thy mother o'er thy sleep.
O peaceful night! O envied rest!
1.5k
(Mina)
I was so lost in her eyes
then she walked out of my life
Leaving me without directions, hopelessly,
I couldn't find a way
So as to run along
And get away
She took away a part of me....
(Brandon)
And as she tooketh a part of me
I couldst not let her go,
She is mine true amour',
Mine queen, that pulled me from below...
And as she pulled me up
The thunder cloud's broke,
I couldst feel ourn soul's
Uniting in ***** blood poke...
(Mina)
But she didn't keep our promise
And she doesn't seem to care,
Now I miss the scent of love
That once was in the air.
I know she had the right to go
Yet unfair of her to walk away,
For she broke our lifetime promise
The promise to stay!!!!
(Brandon)
As she broke ourn promise to stay
Tis was painful every day
Night for me was blackness
The moon was blood by pains...
As whilst the moon didst release
It's cruor in the dusk
Mine amare said she'd be here
Through the storm's of human bust...
But human's art not us
As tis we aren't them.......
So she walked away anyways
Leaving me a broken man
(Mina)
And here I am, writing of her
With the hope that she'll be back soon
I think I'm just going insane
My lonesome nights, talking to moon
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
.. Awake oh world..awake 2015.. This is not a dream, a public announcement!!An endorsement of fiery destruction will reign upon earthly cities. A crossing of no pity. For twas predicted long ago...
Thy lands will be cleansed as snow. Howl and moan/ for trees will be scorched a twist! Thy eye sockets wilt be ripped and headache wilt be a molehill for thou!!!
Banks wilst crumble, babies shalt mumble as in Noah's day!!!what's wrong? No loving songs, to the devil you'll make a parade!!!!
Thou clown of display, skies will grey and stars shalt be fiercesome and almighty as thy green greedied dollar!!!
Here's thy collar, oh don't forget thy new world chip, for all younger days and innocence you'll wish thou couldst return!!!! Return to thy own dust oh man!!!for its lives thou took, now thy life to be given!!! No feast of thanksgiving! Can't thou read the scribes writing?
Blind thou hath been for over 2000 years, stack thy gold corrupted by moss in thy underground cellar!!!fighter, yeller!
Cop brutality shalt get much worse! Violence will between thou sister and brother! Canst thou not changeth thine own way? Mummified curse indeed! Pigfeed you've become to ones who blow the horns! Watch out/move.....don't get burned!!!!volcanic destruction will match quakes to rattle thy mortars, for climatic borders will be bound by new order charisma!!!!hope!!hope!!the crowd yells to their thorned crown king!!!2015 the year of the blood moon! The year of thine own final sting!!!!
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC