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brandon nagley Jun 2015
Province acreage dies for one to tilleth its deserted range
Wherein cement meets the grain
It's love wants to be an emblem upon the world's and celestial's mapped blueprint........

Sick of nothing
Infirmed by zich
Swabbed by heartache
Taping its own stitch...    

Just another moorland
Who Gaveth all
Lost to
Hopeless romance merry....

Depletedness licketh...  


Deprived
Scanting
Panting its last sad hopeful breathe!!!!

Tis
All it hath left
As its been pruned
And left for rocks to corrode...

Sold its soul.....


One of old,
Superannuated doppelganger.....



An obsolete antediluvian
One not meant
For loam inanimate's.....



By me( Brandon nagley) - ( lonesome poets poetry)
sofia ortiz Apr 2014
Sitting in the asylum
voices of the infirmed
call to each other.
A young man hums to himself,
keys jangling.
They carry their preferences under their arms,
judging each other by the objects in their hands.
And here I sit,
in the atrium
listening to the mad men heeding the sirens that call to them.
They obey
and beat their rhythms upon ivory tables
bone-wracked as wooden bridges slip out of their grooves
horses and trees united
in the Sistine Chapel ceilings of the lunatic's mind
epiphany and entropy painted on the skull canvases
of bridled souls.
The floor shudders as a hundred feet tap their heartbeats
in different moments.
Seizures of enlightenment
are what brought them here,
and similarly,
what will keep them.
A sired calls from a locked room
and the ivory tables shatter.
stream-of-consciousness poem I wrote while sitting in the music building at school
Graff1980 Oct 2017
My art is equal to
cracks in reality
that I can
almost peer through.

Space and time
crack and shatter
with sparkling splinters
trying to force themselves
through.
Till they
pierce me
and puncture you.

I’m not as gifted
as I would like to be,
cause my language
does not fit perfectly.
It is mostly limited
by the limitation of me.

As the cracks widen
I can almost look in
and make out
a mirror dimension.

It is just an inkling,
art flowering
not yet infirmed
is interred
in my minds
frozen
mid explosion
Graff1980 Nov 2023
I don’t want to go
because I feel responsible
for my seventy-year-old
infirmed father,
trapped by a self-imposed
sense of obligation,
self-erasing, and disintegrating
any chance of self-elevation
in the pursuit of
taking care of
someone I love.

So many years lost trying to
help and get through to
someone who doesn’t
seem to have a clue
what his angry outbursts do.

I feel guilty for wanting my own life
minus all this major family strife.

Ten years I’ve been too scared to leave
because I didn’t know what I would do
or if I could even afford to move.

Will I step forward or be subdued
by fear and attachments to
a situation that holds no true
future growth for me?
James M Vines May 2017
Finally the day is done. The road has been walked and the battles have been won. The bodies lay scattered around the fields as the dead try to find rest. The noise of conflict is over and the despots that have wrought evil are laid to waste. Human life has been reduced to the value of a piece of iron that can be hurled from the end of a gun. Now those who are left must pick up the pieces. There are no victors because there is no spoil in a battle ravaged land. What ever counted as treasure is worthless to the poor and the infirmed. The blind and the lame do not value gold or silver. The orphans do not care for diamonds or other precious stones. The only comfort is time, perhaps it will mend the broken and heal wounds. For now it is done and the ideals that were fought for have been forgotten. Perhaps it would have been far better if we had just ended it all and started over.
Jason Ball May 2020
Not brothers in arms,
Shell shocked,
Or trench footed,
But committed to resolve,
All the same.

Our needy and infirmed,
We shield from harm,
But like a ******,
Our enemy,
Engage.

So we rally together,
In the face of a tyrant,
Invisible,
Though they may be.

We remember,
Endure,
Like era before,
And sing death,
To COVID 19.
Yenson Apr 2021
And his mind has no trough in shades and ruin
neither to condone or share in **** fallacies unjust
from a youthful leader to acclaimed Renaissance grace
devoid of pettiness and foibles of cosmopolitan heathens
and he said
“If you think the expanse of the brain is about the same size
as the universe we live in, you’ve got infinite places to go to within your own self.
What is loneliness  in the gratuitous expanse of the beautiful mind
where is the absence of love in a million real and truthful unforgotten kisses
where is pain in the dazzling achievements crowning works well done
where is sorrow in the travels of he who share laughter and joy in
refreshing light-heartedness and brotherhood
and where are disappointments when highs and lows are mere imposters in ebbing tides
and the know that providence stands at the gates for each and all
so in the blessings of a mind allowed freedom to seek and find
unfettered by inherent cages filled with the avarice of naysayers
tainted by heresy of dullards and the infirmed with stunted lives
polluted by ignominy hate jealousy envy and personal demons
in shadows living with shadow fears and living in the recesses of their minds
how can thus
catch a cloud and pin it down
when by the omnipotent Grace of the Creator
I enter thousands of minds and blaze a trail that splinters them
and they have no expanse for refuge but to foam with bile and angsts
trapped in the rigours of de rigueur finite fearful senselessness
ymmiJ Jul 2020
legs are strong
bones of iron
stomach settled
solid bedrock
heart beats steady
love it's music
shoulders wide
carrying my share
mind is clear
armored from deceit

yet the sight of the weak
old, young, infirmed
being abused
others greedy gain

drops me to my knees
in prayer
their poor souls

for as one great man did say
'they know not what they do'

the weaker have no worry
their place already secured
not sure what this is. maybe a testimonial. maybe a long thought written out? who knows.

— The End —