"mineself" poems
i.
Cap-a-pie
I loveth thee;
Mine own, mine self
Mine whole, mine queen.
ii.
Lashes and eyes
I loveth thee;
Mine home, mine help
Best friend, and dream.
iii.
Leg's and thighs
I loveth thee;
Mine girl, mine world
Mine living, breathing.
iv.
Spirit and mind
I loveth thee;
I giveth mineself,
To thee in sickness
Or wealth, in good
Times or bad health.
v.
Marry and sedate
Me in passionate
Meed; thou art
Mine want, thou
Art mine yearning,
Mine longing,
Mine need.
vi.
Cap-a-pie
Mine
Queen;
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
A breadcrumb I am - the morsel of my old dough,
a piece of chewed bread rotten, missed near a toe,
shredded by the sons of righteousness and “normality”,
entombed I am under the carpet to fulfil “morality”.
Mum added the yeast for me to grow, as well as flour,
Hoping my crust would golden as a vivid live flower,
She sprinkled little salt into me, to know the grimes,
Sugar too, for life brings out the salt to eyes, at times.
Dad poured the water, to soften toughness uncalled,
For man is kind too, not merely clay masked, walled -
And above all, they added affection and compassion,
They wanted me to satisfy mineself, not one’s ration.
Into the oven, 9 minutes, under fire: I show colors,
The warmth turned the heart warm for all others;
I am left to rest, to harden the shell and eternal body,
To be perfect as ma and pa wish: not adverse, shoddy.
But the stale, unpuffed, unfresh bread of this world,
covets but loathes what is good and not yet twirled,
It wishes for me to inhibit mold and evict dignity,
Mais allez, étrange moi, expose me not to malignity.
The least of their gurgling sounds puncture heads,
And the weakest of their advice the spirit dreads;
The making of me is the capacity of mine flexes,
Your ingredients suit not me, mortals and sexes.
Days yearn for you, not this battle of complexes:
You, mine old dough who suddenly “complex” is,
My parents baked me on low heat nice and gentle,
And they sear me with words not for me, mental!
Know you: Pita, Kmajj, Brioche, Shrak, or Baguette,
Bread is bread, could be different, but it is no threat.
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC
ojos de Angel
Thy dress is quite seen, thy vocabulary to me reads
The word's of a queen.......
mo chuisle
Thy feet art tired from work
Relax, let mine finger's exhort, pressing and caressing softly to thy skin.....
buah hatiku
For thee I write ancient poems and haiku's
Doth thou not seeith thou art mine muse, and law giver to me?
sirenita
I've traveled for thee from afar
I giveth mine courtship to thee, and heart
For though distance doth not keep us apart,
Distance is but a word
As mineself I canst maketh it all real...
Just telleth me,
When thou art up for a real call
A real visit
And everything to be....
For I'd giveth all for thou
Mine reina
Mine everything....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa angelica dedication
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
i.
Alleluia, I proclaim, six month's it hath been, an eternestial
Keep. None need for word's to cometh out of mine mouth and lips, none need for mine sight to peep. For now; soundly do I sleep. Slumbering in mine dulcet Jane's deepest desires and wishes.
ii.
Every fibril of mineself, shalt be tucked away in her niches, warm and cozy therein I wilt abode; I wouldst selleth all possessions, to be next to her, though I knoweth patience hath
Us on hold.
iii.
In the meanwhile, we shalt cosmogyral, ground to air, a many whilsts. Creshinta lovenairs, O' another six month's wilt cometh again. A lifetime I looketh forward to, kindred spirit, best friend.
iv.
I will not cease, from building upon thee ourn bedrock, thus the ticking hand tick's away, and the minutes betray the clock's. In heaven amour, is where we do belong, with melodious angel's singing hymn's; and saint's to play ourn song. We wilt forever be, six month's from now, six year's, six generation's, six hundred fear's, six-thousand kisses, six million glares, six billon glimpses, of thee mine wife and me all ourn lives. In matrimonial bozeere.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
i
I'm stuck inside her panaginip lip's, she's ****** me all in
She cast a spell, of amour' swell, chain's of cabochon to her hips;
Oh mine giliw, thine finger's art sweated, locking mine own
We'll treck thine mountain's, and rule the slopes, then back home
ii
We shalt Kench the white puffies, floating above ourn observation, making elephant's and giraffe's with touched finger,
Two strange unknown attainer's, strapped with starry wit
We shalt never forget another, always to be closer as lovers, bliss
iii
As Beowulf, I shalt slayeth the dragon's, and pain-seekers of hate
For plentiness shalt be by bucket's, as gold dust falls as ourn date;
An Iniibig kita from thou, a Lagi kitang iniisip from mineself
An Gusto kitang tawagan from thou when I'm gone, Pahalik!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Pilipino rosas/ あある じぇえん
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
i.
I shalt consign mineself
In a balikbayan box;
A snug hole to tryeth to **** air
Mine lung's tightly in lock.
ii.
On a plane, on a ship, in a bus
I shalt squeezeth mine carrion in;
Thinking of mine betrothed amare
How I must risketh mine life, for me to get there.
iii.
As I wilt meeteth her at the Sari-sari store's
Though I wilt be broke, no money, only amour;
Though tis love's not about money, or materialistic junk
As I thinkest all this, I thinkest soon ill break from mine trunk.
iv.
As the plane halt's, mine crate roll's around
Mine queen hath found me, in shock, her tear's cometh down;
Because I fleweth mineself in this darkly space
It was all for a purpose, to seeith the one I loveth, and her face.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
I locked mineself
To her leg;
I swallowed the key
I shackled mineself, into her head.
I seeketh not to be free
By wordly standard;
The great architect
Showed me, I'm free with her, tis she is mine lantern.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
i.
A black vested barbarian
From the land of Corinth;
Garbed in snowy himation
Travelling the Filipino drench.
ii.
Twas, I was not use to this land
There's only a dry and wet season;
Mine black snake Boot's
Protected me from venomous poison.
iii.
This ground as mine own
Untamed primal eye's;
They Pierce through the wilderness
Phantom's passeth through thy body, it's their energy as a high.
iv.
Tis I was greeted
By an aboriginal watcher;
I met her mother, who wanted me for her daughter
I Gaveth mineself to this young queen, mind full of wonder.
v.
As tis I hath joined, this clan of beautiful native's
I consecrated mine Reyna's amour', as we became related;
Whilst we danced, around the fire her mother hath built
The Filipino bead's around mine neck read " Jane", meaning self.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Je vais lui envoyer tous les miens amour 'de onciale, en les faisant flotter dans une bouteille sur la rivière, tous les jours ça me fait peur elle va disparaitre, parce que quotidiennement pour son cœur de la mine groweth plus grand, et tout mon coeur devient plus gros, la mienne âme soupire pour elle de plus, je ne l'ai jamais senti ce sentiment, que pour le mien vie passée mi amour '... Alors, quand la bouteille atteint aux rivage, et quand elle picketh il, je prayeth pour obtenir une bouteille de retour, dans laquelle son amour doth remplir jusqu'à .... et si elle ne reçoivent pas l'amour mienne bouteille remplie, je flottais en descendant le fleuve, je seras floateth mineself bas cette rivière, même si je dois essayer de noyer pour la reine mienne .... et si cette bouteille don 't vient à terre, le corps au moins mine, elle saura que, si tous ces poèmes ne montre pas, pour moi tis amour pour elle était réel
( french dialect)
( English translated)
I'll send her all mine amour' uncial's, by floating them in a bottle down the river, daily it scares me she's gonna dissapear, because daily for her mine heart groweth bigger, and whilst mine heart gets bigger, mine soul longeth for her more, I've never felt this feeling, only for mine past life mi amour'... So when the bottle reacheth the shore, and when she picketh it up, I prayeth to get a bottle back, wherein her love doth fill it up....and if she don't get mine love filled bottle, I floated down the stream, I shalt floateth mineself down that river, even if I have to drown trying for mine queen ....and if that bottle don't cometh to shore, at least mine body will, than she'll know, if all these poems didn't show, for tis mine love for her was real....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry....
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
Hath mighty gods placed ye among the stars?
Those heavenly eyes that gaze down at us?
Those stitchings of ethereal pale scars?
Nay, I see the moon only, its beams combust.
Wherefore art thou the one we don't deserve?
Thou shouldst be soaring as an angel soars.
Then I would espy, if I had the nerve.
And you'd tear my mask, the one I once wore.
Wouldst thou grace me with thine beauty, seraph?
or wouldst thou blind me with effervescence?
Wouldst thou judge me, in hand your black tariff?
Or wouldst thou make mineself evanescent?
For now, I dream within my dream, my love.
And I glance upward, smiling at you above.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
The younger generation prefers a quick text to show their love,
Though younger mineself...
I prefer an old fashioned phone call
Or a heartfelt old style romanced letter
Written
Sealed
Delivered by me...
I guess im just just old fashioned
In a new age soup bowl!!!
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
I see mine queen, her brown eye's, to,
I see her view, so much beauty, so true
And I think to mineself
She mine mi amour'............
I seeith the sky with her moon, moon of night
The luminescent sun, with her smile so bright
And tis, I think to mineself
She's mine mi amour'!!!!!!!!
The colors of her words, so unknown to mankind,
An angel of God, a writer in disguise...
I seeith her showing love, asking other's ( how dost thou do?)
She's just being her, as tis she loveth helping me and thou to...
When I heareth her crying, I heareth her moan.
She's mine all, I'd taketh her pain, and cleareth her white as snow
Because I think to mineself.......
She's mine mi amour'!!!!!
Yes, tis, I think to mineself..........
SHE'S MINE MI AMOUR'..............
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
(Spanish tongue)
Soy la campesino querubín esclavo
En mía reina serpahim de amor-jaula.
Y incluso si ella fue a diere yo la llave
A descubrir mineself y ser gratis;
No habrías wanteth de todos modos es ,
Me encanta ser su sirviente ......
Me ama ser su esclavo .......
(English version)
I'm a peasant cherub slave
In mine queen serpahim's love-cage.
And even if she was to giveth me the key
To unlock mineself and be free;
I wouldst not wanteth it anyway's,
I love being her servant......
I loveth being her slave.......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
In the spectral mausoleum
Wherein the human's left me deserted;
I still wilt writeth transcendent poesy
Mine blood as the word's to be posted.
An anointed omnipresent
To luster her anticipation of mine proclivity;
She awaiteth me, behind the benevolence
As her optical's art painting's in Renoir relevance .
I revamp mine apparition
To maketh mineself to her more known;
She seeith mine black suit, unbuttoned shirt
She feeleth mine flesh, and strokes mine old bones.
All mine bad misgivings, she erases like as if at school
She's the teacher, I'm her student, though tis I breaketh rules;
Yet I do payeth attention, to this queen whoever she is
Yet thou must remember, this is all a dream, spurious wish!
Though tis just an illusion, I still hath highest Hope's
Because I'm not the other men, proudly others seeith that most;
As tis I shalt continue on, writing amour for one not around
Whoever she is, and who she might be, please release me from..
The ground................
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
In subjection
To her deepest requests
In subjection
I layeth down mine best
In subjection
Yet whilst courting her mine
A clock that canst stop
An amour' of world end time
Ourn wings shalt fly
Make a bunker on the moon
Lay a blanket at ourn quarry
The snakes to weave on through
Silhouettes of ourn Shadow's
Making love is wild radiance
Forgetting of all the others
As for eachother in all remberance
Experts of vie passée cognition
A bonheur never known to man
A peaceful sanctuary
A sacré dynasty
inconnu to new edge ère
Blackened dusked perfume
I shalt goût to her mascara
Espagnes miroir to give me what I need
For me to seeith mineself,
As for her to seeith I am her
She is me!!!
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
What is dusk, but the promise of dawn?
Where all of the wrongs shall be undone,
Your love, the eternal flower of purity
Your heart, an epicenter of sincerity
-
No failure made
Where knowledge hadn’t come
A sweet serenade
Of your love behind, sung
-
The furious creature in me
By you always calmed
Your word, in my heart
True as psalms.
-
Were I growthed different
Who would I be?
I druther not think it
For shall it ne’er matter to me
-
Your tolerance
For my mistakes unknow
And your pride no matter
For How I have grown
-
When I seek silence,
When I think mineself a cur,
Feeling you with me
My creature doth pur
-
My questions ever answered
Your back never turned
When young and asleep in your loving arms,
Could not a soul me stirred.
-
So ever after and always
Will I remain here for thee,
My death only bothersome,
If I let you alone be.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
i.
Once on the bier, now far beyond the cerulean,
Once benighted in death's uninvited,
Now sipping on empyrean cloud's, that stretcheth past the Caribbean.
ii.
All once fogged, bitten by snake's and dog's, stumbled upon
The log's, of quietus in the abyss; awaited I for deceasing ship's, to carrieth mine billow's, to darkened dungeon hell-made Pillow's- awaiting with mine name.
iii.
Thus, I was delivered throughout all that pain, mine old-self was slain, given rebirth again. Given I another chance, from God other's dismiss; sent to I, was mine daffadowndilly spring, from God who heard mine ring's, as mine mouth screamed and wailed. He answered all in detail, the finest wine to man, he gaveth me the best of plan's- with darkling queenish strand's.
iv.
So with a humbling poetic stand, I holdeth a ring inside mine hand, and I shalt boweth lord, O' God first to thee; then I'll lowereth mineself secondly, to mine queen, to slippeth a ring upon mine sweet.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
O' brother
Today is the anniversary
of the day you were born
But Fear not
for I have a Present
It is a cake obviously
Never doubt me
never
Either way
cake
For you should feed your Gluttony
And though I ate nine-tenths of the cake
you still ate
O how kind I am
How much more Retribution
truth
But I am higher of that
Regarded as Saint
that is what kindness I have
O' brother
I write to you today
for my anniversary of the day
I died came
I have seen a ******
I have seen a robbery
I have seen the cruelty of humanity
But all I am and is a bystander
who keeps His Head down
With mediocrity
and hypocrisy
Ego dominant
while the Id is miniscule
Either way
It seems that
I can't show my kindness no more
O' mineself
I have a confession
I may see the trash
out of all the trash
and though the foggy mirror
blurs it
I Still See
Mineself
For even though
I have saved a kittens life
I have saved a boys life
I have saved a girls life
I have saved an adults life
I have saved my ego
I have saved my Id
How more trash could I be
I can't say sorry
no
I can only say that I am no more
a saint
a bystander
just the trashiest
of all trash
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 12:53 PM UTC
Mi amour'
Please do not cry,
I shalt crucify mineself
To wipe the tears from thine eyes....
Mi amour'
Please don't feel alone,
Thou already knoweth
That I am thy home....
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
Lately
In honesty
As an addict to pain pills
I've felt like just getting back on the ****** train
And saying the hell with it all,
Though when I think about it
I know,
God is that pill
That heals all pain
Cancer
Sickness
Disease
Depression
Sleep apnea
Suicidal thoughts
Hurt
Wanting
Needing
All....
As when I want to pop a nice ****** elixer
I must first think to mineself...
God,
Is the elixer to all...
God is the magic pill...
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Yea,
These are mine last scriptures,
No more thoughts to come out blistered
No more cuts to snap thy pictures
Moribund to mineself!!!
No reaching hands,
No none help
No marching band to play mine kilt
A tombstone of lonesomes lost!!
No clothes to be buried,
No queen to soothe me
None to marry
The cliff I've come to now!
No sun, no clouds
No children to laugh and play
Just darkness to cover me
Smothered breathe!!
No candle to light mine way
No tommorrow
Nor the next day!!!!!
For as I always say
When thou wilt seeith these writings stop,
Than thou wilt knoweth something's wrong!!!!!!
FINUS!!!
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
Nostalgic butterfly's of confectionery Felicity
Whilst the draft sways to ourn archaic old style fenestella
Thou wilt be that Cinderella
As I mineself shalt be thy consort savior!!!!
Sentiments to hang as beads
Wherein ourn pictures wilt mark the streets
A Spaniard a Greek freak leaving puddles
Of ourn good tidings!!!!
Daisies shalt grow
Around ourn ancient abode
Yet even with none home
I already knoweth thou art mine roost!!!
I'll giveth thou confidence
If thyself shalt giveth me a boost
And telleth me
Thou loveth mine all
For
Tis I make mistakes
One day a beast
The next an angel
Yet canst thou forgiveth me?
For thou art mine flower bud rose
The comfort in mine toes
In between wherein the warmth never fades
Taketh me tomorrow amare
If thou dares
Do not leaveth
For we got now!
Today!!!!
For whilst I'm still a fool
At least I can say honesty
I'm a fool for thou!!!
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
See
I'm just a lonesome peasant at the Spanish castle door
Hungry for food, thirsty for her decor
Her Spanish hillside resides in a place I shalt not speaketh
( secrecy I vow to keepeth)
As tis her door is adorned in Luna illumination,
Amour's central station..........
As she seeith me beseech her
For her Latin sheek
Mine legs get heavied
Mine extremities goeth week
Mine breathing goes faint
Mine eye's rolleth back
Then she taketh me in
Upon her reina love shack
Inside her abode
Is decorated by orb painting scene's
Her thought's stuck on poetry
As her words art her dreams....
She's realism to me
And a fantasy as well
Though tis I think to mineself
( truly she is all real)
For she feeleth me
As I feeleth her to
Nothing couldst ever separate
Two mi amour's so true,
For as I left her house
I found a little secret
Her second casa
Nest's beyond a martian surface.......
For I went there
For when she shalt cometh
For she doesn't knoweth
That I'll replace her plastic gnome in her garden on Mars,
With mine own self to showeth ...
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
i
I feeleth a calming bereavement, from mine own heart's dying
I mosey the coffin carousel of this lonesomeness artistic torture;
I dig with nail's into mine isolation box, kicking stones, lifting rock's, and as the nightshine seepeth, I close mine eyes, weepeth.
ii
Yet this grave shalt not be mine end, though an amour is not there, for forlornness hath becometh a beloved best of friends;
Thither the protection of the gloom, I shalt burst on through, breaking into the rainbow that shalt streameth to mine beauty.
iii
Mine dying shalt reneweth me, the tomb shalt not subdue me
The copse forest shalt enticeth me, as I swayeth and flyeth asunder from mine carcass, with none asunder to holdeth back mine natural capabilities, as all senses shalt be enhanced.
iv
The wind wilt guideth me wherein others couldst not, mine creator to showeth me mine lifespan plot, to continue to loveth, even whilst the groan's that cometh near, mine vision, and view's to be glorious, this freedom of mine eternal entity alive, no fear's.
v
It shalt be a triumphant of all life's, wherein I shalt haveth a wife, to comfort me, thus all to be alright, as guardian's to me shalt be an insight, an insight of mineself deeply and the spiritual realm that shalt engulf me, and swaddle me so peacefully in awakening.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
i
The inferno I go into, as I shalt not be burnt by hurting arrow's
A being born of love, taking shuttle from a dove, passing the cup,
As Ill-will circle's me, the contempt of many tryeth to ****** me
As I'm loosed from their naysaying, to their gameplaying anger.
ii
Anew I wilt linger, in this round spinning ball, giving beauty of forgiveness and awe, showing other's the light of God, as the prey wilt lacerate, as angels to me shalt emancipate me of daily aching and nightly heartbreaking, for tis this spirit's overcoming all .
iii
I seeith the real between the false,i seeith the idol's the crowd worship's like a mob, I seeith the murderous bigotry of word's gone wrong, I seeith mineself singing a heavenly song, a comeback from the bygone's, a holder of many vision's.
iv
Overriding superstition, giving authenticity between dreaming wishes, not listening to misconstruction, letting mine conscience alive from allegation, moving mine wing's, nation to nation, giving the true one's an invitation, cometh one, cometh all.
v
Smiling wide, not changing what and who I am, spiritual by birth, though this place, a man, not saying I won't, to things I canst, a wonderful show, of graceful stand, and even if I'm a one man band, (which I shalt not be,) I'll keepeth on smiling, for I am me....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC