I

Our ****** dreams, all seedless in the light,
Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
Whack their boys' limbs,
And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
Fold in their arms.

The shades of girls, all flavoured from their shrouds,
When sunlight goes are sundered from the worm,
The bones of men, the broken in their beds,
By midnight pulleys that unhouse the tomb.

II

In this our age the gunman and his moll
Two one-dimensional ghosts, love on a reel,
Strange to our solid eye,
And speak their midnight nothings as they swell;
When cameras shut they hurry to their hole
down in the yard of day.

They dance between their arclamps and our skull,
Impose their shots, showing the nights away;
We watch the show of shadows kiss or ****
Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.

III

Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which
Shall fall awake when cures and their itch
Raise up this red-eyed earth?
Pack off the shapes of daylight and their starch,
The sunny gentlemen, the Welshing rich,
Or drive the night-geared forth.

The photograph is married to the eye,
Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth;
The dream has ****** the sleeper of his faith
That shrouded men might marrow as they fly.

IV

This is the world; the lying likeness of
Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move
Loving and being loth;
The dream that kicks the buried from their sack
And lets their trash be honoured as the quick.
This is the world. Have faith.

For we shall be a shouter like the ****,
Blowing the old dead back; our shots shall smack
The image from the plates;
And we shall be fit fellows for a life,
And who remains shall flower as they love,
Praise to our faring hearts.

A Grecian statue I am, a confined creation; a harbinger, a shouter of biblical presages. Only here to tell of God's word, of Christ's love offered to voices silenced.

To the rich, poor, sick, down-and-out;
To boys, men, women, children-
Girls.

None pen nor pencil or writing tool needed, for the Lord's blood was
Shed for all the lost and
Mistreated,

Tis Satan was defeated.

Christ gave up the holy-ghost,
As thus his soul left that cross,
Buried, Rose again the third
Day; for God succeeded,
The devil lost.

Mine time is almost up now,
For mine job is almost done;
Soon I'll go meet mine savior,
As I prayest that Jesus Christ
Wilt be the one.

The one who thou shalt call out
To, for tis Jesus Christ that saves,
The way, the truth, the life;

The water that never runs dry,
The way to heaven up past the sky,
The bread of life that wilt make thee full,
The son of God who died for me,

The son of God who died for you......

© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
© Prophetic poetry

In this world of rage and distraction
What are your thoughts your inner reactions
When you see people living in the streets
And trash at your feet
Do you show your emotions
Across an expansion of oceans
Or keep them bottled up inside
Safely in your soul to hide

Why keep hidden from world's view
When you could make a difference yes just  you
Makes someone's day give them a smile
You could make people happy for even a little while
One small thing could start a chain reaction
In this world filled with rage and distraction

So make your inner thoughts outter
Become a shouter
Express your emotions
To the size of oceans
And maybe just maybe
We can keep the world from going crazy

I am a warrior.

tell me that I am not,
and you will have some fiercely chosen words hurled at you
butnotdirectlyatyoubecauseimnotgoodatconflict.

you see
i have fought many a doubter,

kept at bay
without ever being a shouter.
mostly.

but, I am a warrior,
i go to war every day.
fighting against the overarching flames
entangling me in its’ depth.
forcing me to pry its' grasp away from my throat
giving me just enough air to say 'good morning.'

'I’m fine.'

Following, a star takes a man able to adapt to it.
You did it.
Hits proved it.

Unlike your predecessor, you weren't the microphone ****** or splits master.
But what you were?
Was a bright star unknown who excel behind him?

Sure, you changed the color tone of the group.
But your legacy stands out in bringing the Temptations a new style.
Which eventually brings honor to the group.

If Ruffin was the Martin Luther King of singing with a religious message.
Then obviously, you was the Jesse Jackson shouter with a theme.
Until you listen to the song "Memories" and many wonders if that's you singing.

Oh, legends usually leave their path of honors upon a group.
And when the group is honored by imitation Temps, your hits like others is your blueprint.

Heaven has gathered together all the leads of the Temptations to say up above, we all Are blessed.