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"forthward" poems
i. Coming out of the state of anabiosis, mine form was ripped and torn, mine adorn was battered and burned, I went through Hades whilst the pit of death's kiss shattered me in agowilt; ii. I was dying, in Hell's kilt; once a shape, now ***** in a pit of unsatisfactory demon's; roped, doped, bleeding. iii. The scaled creature's bit me, the ceiling's muck dripped me, whilst at mine ending breath's, a light shined forthward, a Filipino empress. iv. I was nothingness: a mess, molested, infected, by the realm of raven's nest's. That's when she thundered in, in Baro’t saya wonder; twas me who on the sea, on her lip's i swirled up-with Satan down under, mine tears hadst fluttered by like butterfly's; mine ghost awoke with Jane; v. Twas, she was Heaven on Mine side; She took me For a ride, Back to Life Again!!! ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
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Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
Yn Hades , fi saweth golau ( In hades, i saweth a light) welsh tongue
Forgive yourself and fellows, When footing has been lost; One's fall from grace is torment, The second has a cost; Of flesh and blood you still remain, Yet own your every err; Accept the past you cannot change, Confess that you were there; Set right the things that tend to slip Post-stumble, fall, or break; Mend the wounds with loving hands, That none are left to ache; Lucid men are forged in fire, Adepts are those who learn -- Without trial, sans blunder, Success is not of our concern; Decay takes to dusty wings, But is down truly ever out? Arise, for failure comes to those, Only those, who sit and lie in doubt; Forthward.
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Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
It's Not How We Fall
I trust not; in all; let alone the one; he who heeds deeds and misleads; let alone lately, late lasting lily lake light-outs, and a fragrance of brothels; let alone ladies; whom shiver in timbers of whimsical whispers; warriors and such, just not so much; let alone stabbing knives, the whirlwind winds, the ancient mimes of moonlit jives; deserted by sunrise, blessed with nocturnal eyes. I trust not; verily; to shout merrily; we were here once; within that shrouded ponce; alas, it has come to pass; a shiny piece of glass; and contemporary jazz; I reminisce on bliss; a dire pegasus; a daring precipice; the circus maximus; hands aloft in the great gymnastic overthrow of ages. In the wake of a blunder, we all stand asunder; clutching crutches, avoiding crunches, unaware of blind arms carrying lame legs forthward, essentially; a wisdom of ages; a grasp of sages; locked cages, and a heap of pages. Resent me not, for I have sought, in the wake of the wry; a luminous high; lustrous and illustrious; foretold stories of quandary, and magnificence; where have we gone; to reach such lowly heights; what have we sown; to silence so prone; and much to condone. Take me back; to the dream so lifelike of circles; take me to the midst of a wardrobe of callous miracles…   …and I will know what I like; I will know what I like.
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Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 11:19 AM UTC
Wardrobe