"returneth" poems
Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space...
(attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...
ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections.
A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and
whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed...
for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs.
Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled--
fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook.
...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed
absentia...holy and bovine.
Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore--
eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers
and sisters.
As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease
of interstice...off-world amorousness.
Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady...
live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling.
Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots
enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary
correspondence of authored and Author.
...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push.
Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth.
LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE
CORNERS OF PERPETUITY.
NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Lo! ’tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the angels sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
4.3k
What is this lodging and people strangeth
Yond walketh but never see
Looking as the screen doest changeth
Laughing with mirth and glee
And roaring beasts runneth up the roads
Like dragons with hurtling and smoke
Gigantic monsters with heavy loads
May runneth down honest folk
Just to returneth to calmer times
Would maketh mine own journey pleasant
I feeleth yond hither I'm out of rhymes
I'm nay more than a peasant
Taketh me back to times more sane
The fifteen nineties art for me
I cannot writeth, nor bethink, nor remain
In twenty twenty three
Jan 19, 2023
Jan 19, 2023 at 3:06 PM UTC
Death is the breath,
Before the plunge,
Into icy water,
That swiftly runs.
Death is a rose,
Iron stemmed and thorned,
It ****** a finger,
And does not mourn.
Why do we this burden bear?
This sickly thing,
That picks our brains,
And pulls our hair?
"We have no choice,"
Say us all,
"We all must walk the dreaded hall,
Death's cackle all will hear,
Low and slow, in their ear.
All will feel when time is near,
The heart, icy chilled, with fear.
All will bate their precious breath,
When death, so snugly, starts to set,
And nevermore, to life, returneth."
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 1:10 PM UTC
Shiver the leaves of autumns' fall,
Are thou as cold as I?
Now deaf to the joy of nature's call,
And whim of thee deny.
Give up your toil forgotten sun,
The geese have set the way,
The languish of youth is all but done,
And hour spares none today.
Be era or be season, awake to only die,
On wind thy passion's roam.
To Eastern shore, to death they fly,
Lost and far from home.
And forget thee then thy fancy's brood,
That burned within it's prime.
Thy heart returneth to pensive mood,
For an Elegy of Time.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 6:48 AM UTC
Inaccessible protuberance
Stroketh mine aortic valve;
Submerging in earthly liquid
Except made of dirt and ground.
Floating out of mine carcass now
Not looking on behind;
Keeping mine discernment forward
None more physical time.
Alm's I shalt leaveth all
As none here art meant for me;
I died a million years ago
Tis, I'm sick of falsehood belief's.
Planet EaRtH is made of them
As exemplum is now the "norm";
I wasn't born in some hospital
I was hatched by God's adorn.
From whence I've come
I'll returneth as one;
Wherein the cherub babie's sit
In the blink of the sun.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
i.
Tis mine everything is leaving
Tis she's leaving for a day;
Though just a day, mine soul shalt leaveth
And shalt return unto the grave.
ii.
Until she returneth
Mine spirit shalt be departed;
She's the one keeping me alive
She's mine angel of the creator's garden.
iii.
Tis it may sound funny
Because tis just one day;
The fact is I canst not breathe
When mine earl Jane nagley is away.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
soft!
the danse begineth!
all the creatures!
the sham existences made
to seem so real
that the true people have fled!
the danse begineth!
soft!
reality
is on the precipe
and is soon gone!
the true people !
will they returneth!
from out of our meaningless fantacies!
will you and i
ever emerge
from the danse macabre
of our times?
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 11:00 AM UTC
Gentley the simple one
.
(The day returneth grace for grace)
--
On the edge of town where the wild children roam
Free of the evil
That is following them
--
Spies and human monstrousness
::
Lo we bring
Flowers
Baskets of bread
--
The flow of pure visions
Chaste maidens chasing
Every dreamer to the river source of his dream!
--
Jews and Arabs alike are here
.
In the hour
Past the controlling fear
..
Drone airplanes and the war machine
////
I come to the house clean
Eternal child amongst real children there
--
Gentle now simple sons
And daughters
The days to come are here
We are come here
With our baskets full
Of flowers and bread
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 7:26 AM UTC
One, the cater-cousins thee shun.
Two, darkness they eschew.
Three, a cag'd bird shall kicketh the bucket at which hour setteth free.
Four, thou art the did hunt, the prey; the boar.
Five, nobbut a bee in the hive.
Six, they've forseen thy deceit; belay thy tricks.
Seven, a curs'd soul shan't returneth to heaven.
Eight, death is every living being's fate.
Nine, if 't be true god is the Flibbertigibbet himself, who is't doth thee worship at the holy shrine?
Ten, time tells the day of thy damnation.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
She's mine darling
Of Spanish egress
I giveth her mine all
She returneth the best
Love letters
Stacked for her
Written on desk
A holy sanctum
Highly blessed
Though we hath struggled
I shalt not giveth up
She's mine fill
In ourn dove sculpted cup
She's perfect
Though she feels not!!!
She turns me on
Tunes me in
It's her I want
A marvel of all society
A Ruby not seen
Hidden by madmen and ******
A poets full dream!!
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
For I shalt loveth thee forever
Even if mine soul
Passes the great beyond,
Mi amour of God.
For now I must travel
To that place called the hospital down the road
Hopefully the other angels don't needeth me yet,
Though tis
I'm not a human soul.
They might want me
To returneth home ...
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Sometimes,
When we cometh
Us angels afterward's must goeth.....
And though we seeketh not to leaveth...
It's only for those humans
To open up and believeth....
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
As the rain cometh down and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither,
but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, and giveth seed to the
sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my
mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I
please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.”—Isaiah.
Jul 2, 2023
Jul 2, 2023 at 3:31 PM UTC