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[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]

Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !

Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !

I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
Earth's corybantic heart,
Hell's warrior that whirlest
The darts of horror and doubt !

Thou knowest me who I am
The inmost soul and saviour
Of man ; what hieroglyph
Of the dragon and the lamb
Shall thou and I engrave here
On Time's inscandescable cliff ?

Look ! in the plished granite,
Black as thy cartouche is with sins,
I read the searing sentence
That blasts the eyes that scan it :
"**** and SET be TWINS."
A fico for repentance !

Ay ! O Son of my mother
That snarled and clawed in her womb
As now we rave in our rapture,
I know thee, I love thee, brother !
Incestuous males that consumes
The light and the life that we capture.

Starve thou the soul of the world,
Brother, as I the body !
Shall we not glut our lust
On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled
To a hell of jesus and shoddy,
Dung and ethics and dust ?

Thou as I art Fate.
Coe then, conquer and kiss me !
Come ! what hinders? Believe me :
This is the thought we await.
The mark is fair ; can you miss me ?

See, how subtly I writhe !
Strange runes and unknown sigils
I trace in the trance that thrills us.
Death ! how lithe, how blithe
Are these male incestuous vigils !
Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us !

Wherefore I solemnly affirm
This twofold Oneness at the term.
Asar on Asi did beget
Horus twin brother unto Set.
Now Set and Horus kiss, to call
The Soul of the Unnatural
Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain
Lets the Beyond be born again.

This weird is of the tongue of Khem,
The Conjuration used of them.
Whoso shall speak it, let him die,
His bowels rotting inwardly,
Save he uncover and caress
The God that lighteth his liesse.
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
          Until I labour, I in labour lie.
     The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
  Is tired with standing though they never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering,
        But a far fairer world encompassing.
  Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
     Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
  Tells me from you, that now 'tis your bed time.
      Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
  That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
        Off with that wiry coronet and show
      The hairy diadem which on you doth grow;
  Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
   In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.
   In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
   Received by men; thou angel bring'st with thee
    A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though
     Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
     By this these angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
      License my roving hands, and let them go
       Before, behind, between, above, below.
          O my America, my new found land,
  My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
       My mine of precious stones, my empery,
     How blessed am I in this discovering thee!
      To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
    Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
      Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee
    As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
   To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
   Are like Atlanta's *****, cast in men's views,
     That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
    His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
  Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
      For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
     Themselves are mystic books, which only we
       Whom their imputed grace will dignify
     Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
        As liberally, as to a midwife, show
  Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
      Here is no penance, much less innocence.
     To teach thee, I am naked first, why then
  What needst thou have more covering than a man.
brandon nagley Oct 2015
Queen;

This is a gratitude letter, to telleth thee, I'm blessed with thou,
Mine beloved, mine cherub, mine lifeblood;
Mine queen.

Sovereign;

God hath given me a ladder, I've climbed high past upward lantern's, past the entryway of spiritual pattern's;
Mine amour'.

Empress;

Stop thinking that I wilt leaveth, thou art more worthy than thou believeth, don't let the devil to thee deceiveth, this soul to thee I giveth.

Monarch;

On the street's, or in the park, in the shade, day, night and dark, in me thou liveth, in me thou lighteth a spark, forever, eternal.....
Love.............




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Onoma Nov 2013
Of no time and place...
save for due Truest North
of no time and place...a kindled
air as such...never a Draconian
night layeth upon...O Hyperborea.
Muse of Muse...whose tacit glory
begot lip and lyre...illumined
wholes that sayeth verily unto
illumined wholes.
Unbroken gaiety...where the only
obscuration's the recesses of
witnesses in full bearing...Beauty's
Knowing...Knowable Beauty.
O Hyperborea...as light, lighteth...
yet lit be not--high heaped upon
high, celebrants of whir and fire...
fire and whir...whir and fire!
Thou danceth a sun's one-upmanship,
to emblazon the dreams of Thracian
peoples.
That the world may know, and know
well...the north wind...of no time
and place--due Truest North of no
time and place...be kindled by
Apollonian graces.
As an urn contains what's trialed by
fire, as fire...Beauty unbridled...poureth
forth under the Hyperborean sun...
never to casteth a shadow.
brandon nagley Jul 2015
A king with no queen
He stand's in his castle;
Of celestial thing's.

A beau with none candle's
To lighteth his black room;
Moribund he lies, awake to his tomb.

A knife and a spoon
To chop at his skin;
He left all behind, for one to cometh in.

An axe to his heart
Stake to his brain;
Promises himself, not to look for any queen again.

Though he still wishes
For hopeless romance;
He dies alone daily, a regular prance.

Prancing his garden
Up upon the English hill;
Now he's forgotten romance, as him others hath killed....


©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Brandon nagley
For noone just sounded good to write (: for readers so you know.
Mike Essig May 2015
To His Mistress Going to Bed**

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.
Off with that wiry Coronet and shew  
The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be
Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee
A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
    Licence my roving hands, and let them go,  
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,
My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
    Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta’s *****, cast in men’s views,
That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we  
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know;
As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
There is no penance due to innocence.
    To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
What needst thou have more covering than a man.
brandon nagley Aug 2015
Oriental desire
Wherein art thou
To lighteth mine fire?
Stuck in the mire,
Mine lung's sticketh from its own collapse
Perhaps this queen I awaiteth
Is right around the corner,
Perhap's I'm dead?
Or just in illusion mode
Yet all I knoweth
Is I want to go home.
As this spirit calleth out,
For its other half;
It's other soul.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
They saw the good in me and plundered my innocence
All run away with a share of a friend only my leaves to dry
They took my kindness for blindness but my cautious stood out
I acted stupid seated on wisdom
And they flame camped on turned a blaze they lighteth their guilt

Who are you
They are the people
To enjoy on your behalf without an attempt to  make you better
Until the bottle is empty the drunkard never stops drinking

They keep coming back, my face keeps the smile as my heart holds the lessons
Karma is sleeping on a rail with an epistle of chuckles for life took him to the streets
Karma put an alarm and only forgot to wake

So then i run a lonely race winning the solo award
One man comes and draws an oversighted victory
With horns they laugh with me but my resilience has no room for hurt
For sweet is the taste of their thorns as my mind made peace with trending pretence
#herdsmanofprogress
Bret White Jun 2020
Where art thou, o love of mine?
Dost thou wish my quickened end?
I desireth thee, even close to my skin
Thy love is my life,
It giveth strength to my soul.
Burning darkness, it lighteth my world.
I seeketh thy presence like the night at dusk.
Leaveth me to the void?
Forsaketh me not to the abyss.
Cleave to me, one being, one soul.
Amongst the many, thy soul bursteth
Glowing like a gentle blue star.
Ah, abideth me thy radiance!
Forever to eternity.
Girlamo Barbato Dec 2020
Receiveth that lady out of thy stony desolation
Her encephalon singeth melodies of starvation
Her heart is fill'd with pangs of a hungry void, butchering all sensation
Is hopeth and peace encased in the dark places?
‘r in the lighteth that aroint from her?
The lady knoweth the knowledge but yet to seeketh the problem
Hunt her with thy partisan of sorrow


How savage can life floweth?
All the lady hath left is this broken boat
Desire and tranquility the lady is sure to findeth
Cleansed and swepth away from her swinish mind
Tormented past creeps on her backeth, disappearing whenever the lady behold behind her
The lady can hark tis frighted voice reappearing in the back of her pate, taunting her as the lady soul of symphonies
The moon holds any actuality

Couldst the lady just lie f'r a moment life?
Canst catching but a wink beest h'r getaway?
The lady can’t escapeth her nightmare
But it’s the only escapeth from reality

Life is begging her to grant t one more hap
But the lady end'd up realizing tis real and not fantastical
Upon her is a falsified world that cost to exist
Birds liveth longer
Gudgeon breatheth m're
And ants art stout'r

O Lord giveth that lady thy breatheth of life
Some people crave to believeth the lacking valor instead of the valorous
O Lord maketh her alive
Giveth her a seel man’s eye
The lady wanteth to gape through the window and seeth a perfect welken
Tilt at a diff'rent angle
She sitteth, waiting until the Lord blows out her taper
Partisan puncturing a spirit of sorrow
Hope and peace

— The End —