"encumbering" poems
i.
Fret not, mine antediluvian maiden,
For thine lid's art ladened with the
the encumbering of this last age.
ii.
Awakest, ariseth, mine filipina
of aureole fushae; for the
óres art numbered.
iii.
Yahweh's knocking at the
ventricles of ourn being's;
We knoweth the wisdom
That God giveth, which
Many hath searched-
From king's to Queen's.
iv.
For we art his offspring-
mine overwrought baby,
For there art none if's
nor maybe's; in his
Righteous path.
v.
Verily, yea, the Moon
Wilt turn ichor, the
Waves as of now art
Rising fast, the fish
Art washing to the
Shore's, the fowl of
the heaven's art
Falling to the earth.
As spoken in Hosea
Four-verse three.
vi.
Believeth in Yeshua
mine lady, as the thousands
Having visions and dream's;
Like me, im a testament to
The prophecy coming.
vii.
Don't be afraid of the mockery that
Mayest come, for thine
Blood like river's run
Into the kingdom of
the most high.
viii.
Soon O' soon we
Shalt fly, like sparrow's to their abode; fly-free-spirited
Gliding soul's, into the Dominion wherein we shalt know
All, wherein the bomb's wilt not fall, and destruction doesn't
Exist. A place of sworn bliss, where kisses art created
By soulmates of the creator's making.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedication
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
brick by brick.
piece by piece.
there was that night in the alleyway
when you confessed that you loved me
[*the words pouring out of your mouth
like oil onto water*]
and these words collided with my wall
dropping abruptly
to the ground
like the raindrops that were
falling from the heavens
onto our eyelashes.
day by day.
each by each.
it was that night in the alleyway
when you admitted you love me
and you see me
and you hear me
and you
know me.
and i know you.
it was that night when one of my
bricks toppled to the
ground, liberated by your
perfect imperfection.
we are insane, yes.
having known each other a
minuscule fraction of
a lifetime and wanting to
spend the rest of it with
one another.
but these bricks
[which were
lying heavy on my
sprightly soul]
were ****** to the ground,
emancipating me from my
encumbering wall
as you began to
pour into the spaces
where they once persisted.
you replace my opposition to
vulnerability with the kind of love
i have fervently yearned for,
craved and desired
night by night.
each by each.
the clock strikes 11:11,
it's always you i had wished for.
for now i know;
if you hope hard enough,
it works.
for a person like me
[a person like us]
letting this guard down
is almost as arduous as
quantum physics.
or advanced chemistry.
or seeing someone you love
in tears.
i feel that i am destined for you
so much so that i can
easily
imagine being this older couple
i once saw at the park,
holding hands and living like they
were still 21.
and i wished to God that i would
find that love.
dear God, i don’t even know
if i believe in you but...
thank you for
sending him to me.
he is it.
he is endgame.
there are some things that a
heart just knows. my god, i
feel him with me when i am alone,
[i can barely breathe without him]
and know that he should have been
holding my hand all along,
holding my all, all along.
he is my ultimate karmic
retribution.
[*chapped lips,
countless kisses.*]
never be scared, my dear.
never doubt my love.
for as you say you will never
leave me, it will be in my arms
that you will always stay.
there are just some things
a heart knows.
brick by brick
piece by piece
day by day
each by each
we will crush our
doubts and fears.
hesitations and tears.
i am madly, madly
irretrievably and
blissfully
in love with you.
my dear,
we are meant to be.
you are living,
breathing poetry.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
LIFE! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me 's a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains of me.
O whither, whither dost thou fly?
Where bend unseen thy trackless course?
And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame
From whence thy essence came
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter's base encumbering ****
Or dost thou, hid from sight,
Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank oblivious years th' appointed hour
To break thy trance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?
O say, what art thou, when no more thou'rt thee?
Life! we have been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;--
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning!
2.5k
amidst the decaying, black soil, a daisy
Blooms
neither a figment of one's imagination, nor abrasively prominent,
it sits quietly
Hope
defiant amongst the encumbering pain
a lone promise unyieldingly rooted
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Star Light, Star Bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
For a new beginning apres tonight
A new DAWN, a new hope
One with an illuminated scope
Halting our slide, down this slippery slope
And freeing us from this encumbering rope
The new dawn, of a new consciousness
This creation of a critical mass cognizance
This genesis, of a collective awareness
That is filled with LOVE and fairness
Star Light, Star Bright
I see no stars tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
That I share my light with humanity tonight
(c) 2012 Shawn White Eagle
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
Portentous corpses always found a way
Of capturing her soul
In ways that serenading chrysanthemums never could
The golden skies we would
Rejoice in
As we felt the warmth dusted upon our blushing flesh
Always faded too quickly into
A deep rustic bronze
And soon dust
Whenever she began to take notice
The whispers of whiskey sang
A sweet lullaby
Every night
When she gathered all of her
Albatross thoughts in the empty bottle
And sent them sailing away
With each encumbering sip
Becoming less and less aware
Of her tragic state of reality
Was merely a method of survival
So that when she laid her head down
Each night
At least in that moment
She feels complacently numb
And dignified in the fantasy world
She has created for herself
As she slips away to dreamland
She cannot help but think
She has never felt more at peace
Than in the moment when
Reality all but vanished
To make room for what will never be.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
The time may come for a maker’s mark
Heeding way for a grimacing stark.
For what is shown upon the nights embark;
Encumbering loneliness,
Waiting, quietly,
in the dark.
Gently leaning on a stoop of decay
Tar-filled hearts rest,
Waiting, patiently,
For the light of day.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Weighs like
a tear drop sliding down pale white,
a dappled stone I found on Sanibel Island,
sunk down, deep in my pocket.
Perhaps weighs like
time:
heavy with silence
soaked in emotion,
like colored dye bleeding into white linens.
Yes, a word weighs like
time, and time weighs like stones,
I strain to hold in my palms the encumbering moment,
after you utter,
"Look, Liz, I have to be
Honest."
And you caste the word like a rock
into the lake
and watch it fall
deep, deep, deep
weighed down.
A stone that remains sunk still
in my pocket.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
asoftquietafore;
B OO M!
grunting swirl. the speakers speak intangible friction
who's so slightly an empirical fever
nursing gratuitously the male flavors encumbering
the ego flecked freckles *** lisping
elegantly cambered waists shrines of molten ecstasy
but my lady niggles sporadic splinters in my sheath
and i
splay the courageous night
and penetrate her plaintive giggle
andrideayellowbuckingmetal
to her supreme station
and palm her credibly
with every effect of my huddled fibers
where she is gently wet
a winsome hollow
in where
is
springhotlycaked light boisterously exploding
and a pink breaking every other colour
i slave mightily to it's hairless stubble and i stumble
rightly dumb
at her close cut whisper
slanting ardently a moist bolt of night
aggressively passive
and patient
she cups my puddle
and
with
lips
purely dirt
she scrapes me perfect
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 10:57 AM UTC
trolling the doldrums for crumbs of gold
selling old caldrons to witless witches
wearing goblin teeth and dragons blood
earrings from Hot Topic
I languish in the Emo village that is the United States –
Self-serving ******** preserving their precious habitats
while habitually encumbering the global ecology
drinking biodegradable Starbucks in Buick Escalades
escapade-ing ***** raiders afraid of Mercury in retrograde
staying clear of the mayhem
and playing fear propagating madman
I stoke wildfires with gasoline
prodding the populace into premature *********** –
poorly formed ideas the norm
the scorn for the figureheads shows on the shoreline
boorish oarsmen, moored, pour their kerosene blood
onto the floor…. Sure,
pure Fuerer fodder, but newer shoes
were never shod
and the godhead faces west into the sunset –
druidic fluids escape wiccan slits
as the children of the Azure seas never get to be born
Pleaedian starships collide inside Antarctic subterranean dwellings
indiscriminate shelling of uninhabited caverns
as ravenous reptilians eat the jaw muscles
and left eye sockets
of organically fed Dairy cows…
espoused louse houses in Fall fashion blouses
trounce the infirm in clown shaped bounce houses
again, the sin goes unnoticed
as the blood of the innocents grants the elitists
another thousand years of power –
The tower on the hill still shines in the moonlight
on the 5th night of delighting the religious right…
mighty flightless birds self-assured and fed
on bramble burrs
purr at the sight.
bodies strewn all askew;
the moaning few with skin turning blue
true to the stories of old
as lack of oxygen blends with the biblical beast mark
and staving for air the impaired dare not to ask for Jesus aid…
instead they lay, waiting to be saved –
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
Distraction
it is the piece in the part
of the heart
holding dear
Fine lines of disgrace
mental pleas to
the disease are
starry eyed
beliefs
Dream encounters
choice remainders
final songs
strewn out in mad
lyrics
Played once again
tempting, toying
with my sanity
curses
Rants, moans
tried and true fantasy
held in this earth
bountiful to its remorse
Staring out windows girth
snow piling
cold encumbering limbs
and stretched faces
Laden by the droughts
of heart sunken
soul bitten and
strung out glee
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
We were strangers among the stampeding crowd,
But fate has played us along;
As our heartbeat synchronizes out loud,
Singing the story of a broken song.
Our sun shines in the East,
but never dwindle on the West-
this strange feeling of bliss,
drifting in the chamber of my chest.
Daffodils dance in the scorching daylight,
As the breeze blows gently-
Oblivious to the inevitable flight,
Of an encumbering drizzly night.
Aurora borealis perforates the lone darkness,
Swirling in the starless sky of the North-
The way you eliminated my sadness,
And brings me comfort and madness.
The river cascading in an endless stream,
Splashing a cold brackish water-
These tears of misery and grim,
I will forever endure in my dream.
The moon is high as the tower,
The night as silent as the elm street-
Misery has once again devour,
the little joy turns bittersweet and sour.
I love and love and love unconditionally,
But the pain is searing unbearably;
I looked at the stars and heaven,
And realized we were strangers again.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 5:24 AM UTC
Noon. We are closest at Noon, when
the sun is cruel and when I teach you
how to tell when a girl wants a kiss. I've
built a wall between us; now be a dear
and lean against it. As the sun hammers
onto our heads, I reflect upon how difficult
the word Noon must be to pronounce in
your precious French mouth. You feel self-
conscious about your accent well guess what
so do I and I've been encumbering this
freedom-infested continent since 2001. You
try to dig out a groove in the wall - but you
see, when I built it I made sure it was so
sturdy we'd die against it. This is Noon.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
I was brought up on the notion of doing something great;
that I was supposed to end world hunger or cure cancer..or some ****
Perhaps those are just imaginary fallacies.
I was raised to accomplish and thus, become an accomplishment.
Now, I feel that this one task is just too much to bear.
What if I was meant to live a simple, ordinary life?
My shoulders screech from the various worlds I hold.
They long for a massage and to be told, "rest now."
How many boulders must it take to finally break?
My fleshy tendons fissure while the skin cracks.
I can keep this up..keep going..work isn't over.
The job's now over until it says it is...or until I'm dead.
The body weighs heavily with an encumbering density.
Pressure so deep, my mind sinks within its darkest trenches.
"Hi, how are you?" "What's new with you?"
For a moment, a life preserver seems plausible,
but I answer with superficial certainty, one would call grace.
We both know how to answer those questions: We lie.
My life's been thrusted with expectations and goals.
I belittle my success and self-harm with failures.
Overly critical and never satisfied.
Notice me...notice me, please. I'm drowning!
Only then do we know that life's not fair.
Save me! Rescue me, with a breath of fresh air!
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 12:53 PM UTC
Dear ****** diary
I know i'm not alone
but i'm tired of talking to
myself.
Outside of these walls seems
so very
far away.
I never dreamt i'd learn to love
this life,
then feel as if i'd given myself away
in pursuit of
a different me.
I cant see past my lies.
I cant breathe through this smoked
den of
filth and anxiety.
This is like drowning
without the
******
of death.
This is like suffering.
All over again.
And i thought i was
all and encompassing,
but i am only
small and encumbering.
for every day i live this life
(of filth and lies and strain)
i hope there is another
where i am raw
and can still
feel the pain.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:27 AM UTC
Wavering.
Seems to be stuck in the sidecar.
With doubt in in back.
And fear spilling out of every pocket.
Where can anything else fit.
It always seems like the only option is to floor it.
And hope.
The next experience isn't.
A wreckage.
Time seems to slow in this moment.
As if to give you one last replay.
Of what can never change.
Tumbling end.
Over beginning.
Through logic.
And past the last chance.
Lementing choices and decisions.
Hate flowing through burning veins.
Igniting the very air.
Causing a caustic reaction that seems to backdraft the entirety of it all.
Leaving only the ash to tell the tale.
And then there are those who see this very disturbance.
And find something within themselves never before used.
Touched.
Or seen.
And alter the very fabric of repetition.
With nothing more than a smile and.
Willingness.
Fear knot the emotions that entangle others.
For it only takes one to wade through the murky echoes of the past.
To ensure.
That The insanity will recede.
There are no shackles.
Only encumbering thoughts.
The only impass.
Is the very reflection staring back.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
The soft piano tears of a bar, the somber lights dancing amongst dark suits and teary hands
The presence of loneliness, the cusp of joy; always lingering on the neon angels
How so many are lost, yet are in the same place
How they are so alone, yet they are around one another
The restrooms a bleak smile, as someone goes to approach
Hands held in prayer, on tables of wood as old as the crucifix of Christ
As the evening battles the sun, to smother it into the abyss
Bodies with heat, yet no one seems to be living
And if lord knows best, that are lives are chaotic
Then this place is the calm in the storm
But not a peaceful calm, an encumbering calm
Where the screams stop, but the echoes still ring loudly
With lights dim as assassinated blood, the fog of confusion and doubt
Fills the space with a ghost, that haunts all within it
But lord knows, that wishes want to be granted
That shooting stars want to be real
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 3:25 PM UTC
To indulge in the material essence of existence is merely
an unprecedented irregulation of decency in societal morality,
Amongst such atrocities...
as encumbering other souls with the repercussions of one's indulgence in humanities frailty.
Two spirits, two fragments each constructing two individuals intertwine in a symphony sung by emotion, composed by intuition to establish a harmonious equilibrium,
have their bond lacerated deeply by the Monarch of Anarchy,
the essence of desperation as well as destruction of such constructs,
envy.
Is such **********
as the likes of pure instinct for survival and thrift
the culprit behind
why we envy?
Is it not a moral felony to practice such anti-altruistic politics,
against our own kin, even brethren?
Or is it the sole reason that by those who envy,
ambition is also ensnared, engraved in their hearts?
Indulgence in any principle is far from pure,
as all can be connected into a single sin,
cycling back to indulgence herself.
So why,
Why does envy,
Entertain such diversity as opposed to others of its nature?
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC
The moon is rising up with the tide
The sun light has disappeared
The bleakness of night, mysterious emotions
fear and hesitation is rising,
As the waves enter the cave
Panic spreads like wildfire.
Tears drip into the sea,
nearing the chances of drowning
The children climb the cave seeking help
An ignorant old man ignores the cry for help,
The hope is all lost, they are alone,
Only nature is there, after all why would nature help,
The moon is shining through the crevices,
Lighting up the hopeless and fearful faces,
The hope has been corrupted by the old man leaving,
The screams and cries are flooding out of the cave.
but not receiving acceptance,
The melting hot ocean now encumbering the people,
The people like icebergs been consumed by the water,
The panic filled air is choking them,
it's too late, the ignorance of the old man
Led to this,
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 5:14 AM UTC
Darker than the silt
That will grow on our graves
As they will lay along side
Giving new light to
A simply divine blooming moon
Resting softly in quiescent songs
Pale-lit sails and tender memoirs
Nights spent forlorn
Have no place in these sunrises
Palpitations I feel now
Flutter gentle as bats wings
Whom drinks the sweet nectar
Of fruits in hidden skies
Starred eyes gaze back at me
With the prowess's beauty
And defiance of a butterflies wings
Encumbering the air we breathe
Wrought from tachycardic passion
It will tip the scale
In favor of the doves feather
Home is not 4 walls and a roof
It is the day and the night
Of times spent whole
No longer scattered
Across dimensions
But trusted in your softened hands
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
It is evident we are each individually exquisite and unique humans, neither being bound to the typical, and monotonous status quo.
On these grounds encumbering life circumstances often do not impede the revelations of undeniably fervent connections, and sensual desires between gifted souls.
Inevitably leaving all resistance of temptations futile.
Subsequently, this leads them to briefly venture down the desirable off-beaten path of opportunity.
Seeking its majestic and sublime territory, yearning to exploit a potentially wondrous escapade within its tree line borders.
These manifestations and desires are defined considerably impractical, and reprehensible. Therefore all aspirations of the matter ideally should be eradicated. Every extent of its relevance forbidden and furthermore should likely never exceed beyond the acknowledgment within our grey matter.
But the pleasure and fulfillment of some experiences you just simply can not pass up
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC