"speaketh" poems
Filipino immortal of time
I'm courting thee now;
And making thou mine
We both kneweth
This day wouldst arrive;
Now taketh mine hand, stand by mine side.
I hadst amour'
For thee, for so long;
Now let's maketh, the sweetest amare song.
Ourn affection, tis obvious
For all to see;
We art the real deal, not some farce dream.
As tis we shalt meet,
As thou shalt get that engineering degree;
I'll taketh a trip, or we'll meet in between.
I'm courting thee now,
Tribal of tropic's;
I'll get ****** in thy saliva, bodie's close, bliss the main topic.
None material's needed
As ourn belief's state;
Ourn devotedness, not some internet kiss, everlasting mate's.
So now thou shalt knoweth
Thou hath been courted;
To showeth thee mine love, and to me thou art more important.
Other's shalt judge
As other wilt mock;
Yet we shalt be happy, in romantic cot's
Even if we art poor
With none food on the table;
Ourn love shalt speaketh loudly, none words needed, nor label's.
We shalt write poetry
As it becometh true;
Sweetest earl Jane, just wanted to sayeth, I loveth thou more to.
Tagalog language, thou shalt teacheth me better
Queen earl Jane;
This is thine courting letter.
I'm not all the other's
As thou doth see;
I am thy Hari, thou art mine Reyna, in whom I believe.
As I knoweth thou don't feeleth
Good enough for man, nor God;
Just wanted to telleth thee, thou art mine, and God's all.
I just wanted to let thee knoweth
I looketh up to thine light;
Thou inspireth me so much, as to other's, thou art vital to life.
So when thou feeleth down
And wanting to leap out of thy brawn;
Remember tommorrow ill be here, as well as ourn own god.
This is mine courtship letter
As now I'm courting thee;
We both want it and need it, mine best friend, life, and queen...
I loveth thee so much
We both none more canst hide;
Thou art mine Earl Jane, thou art mine life....
To thee; dearest Earl Jane..................
©Brsndon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication/あある じぇえん
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
I'm really enjoying this little beer,
Each sip doth speaketh un to me.
The green tint glass seems so sincere,
As if the bottle also ponders me.
And when I finish this little beer,
I'll roll a smoke regretfully.
As the bottle sits so empty clear,
It's label will plead its identity.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
The demon scratches me
I bite him back
The demon pushes me
I spit in his face with a smack
The demon taunts me
I calleth him out by name
They hate their name called
Don't wanna be recognized for the flame
The demon shows false affections
I giveth him hate
The demons a smiler as he latches to me
I'll kick him to hells gate
The demons find me downtimes
Though with God I shalt win
Demons love misery
To seeith one in sin
Demons are smelly
Like all the dump trucks on the earth
Times ten
Demons haveth enemies
They hate even their own kind
They haveth none kin
Demons haveth a date
With Satan in the fire
They'll turn thou on with lust
For thou they do admire
Demons hast hurt me
They've tried to bring me to mine death
Soo many health issues
I know tis not me
Them
The demons hast entered mine family
From the lives we didst choose!
They entered by portals
Between good and bad souls
They came and come as orbs
Spirtual energy
Trapped to a distance
God won't let them get to close to me
They always want more
They show themselves now and then
They'll portray themselves as good souls
Wherein its all pretend
The demons speaketh in mine bathroom
They hide out in the closets
Parched behind mine bedroom wardrobe
Spies as I sleepeth
They want mine bright soul
It's full of massive glowing energy
They know it as I'm told
So to bad because their not me
They made a big mistake
Turning away from God
Now their outcast losers
Fate of hell and grud!!
They'll soon be in chains and shackles
So they cause pain now whilst here on earth
They come in all shapes and sizes as I've heard from many others
Psychics
Life after death (experiences)
And from preachers
Pastors and others
They come large
Small
Animal like
Mauled
They come stinky
Scaly
Nothing thou shalt imagine
Couldn't fathom
Their everywhere
City streets
Malls
Gyms
Stalls
Homes
Air
First heaven
Second heaven
Hell
Everywhere
Yet these demons cannot taketh me
They knoweth I'm gods light
So demon get hence from me....
Go burn in thine own fright!!!!
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
She knoweth what I'm going to sayest
Before I sayest it;
She understandeth mine heart and pain
Before mine blood displayeth it;
She layeth me to sleep
When I get sleepy;
She layeth her head virtually upon mine chest
When I'm in weeping;
She Whisper's she loveth me
Before I canst speaketh it back;
When I'm on the wrong road, losing direction to mine soul,
Her and God get me back on track;
When I feeleth lonesome
She filleth up that lonesomeness;
When the anguish get's noisome
She giveth me her all, her best.
Earl Jane nagley is mine soulmate
Tis I'm more than blessed;
We art both preordained, from the beginning, eternal flame's
We art life, life is us, we art soulmates.
Indeed......
We art soulmates!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose) soulmate of mine
©Hari and Reyna incorporated
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
I felt a spirit of love begin to stir
Within my heart, long time unfelt till then;
And saw Love coming towards me fair and fain
(That I scarce knew him for his joyful cheer),
Saying, 'Be now indeed my worshipper!'
And in his speech he laughed and laughed again.
Then, while it was his pleasure to remain,
I chanced to look the way he had drawn near,
And saw the Ladies Joan and Beatrice
Approach me, this the other following,
One and a second marvel instantly.
And even as now my memory speaketh this,
Love spake it then: 'The first is christened Spring;
The second Love, she is so like to me.'
3.1k
NURSE
Our mistress bids me with all speed to call
Aegisthus to the strangers, that he come
And hear more clearly, as a man from man,
This newly brought report. Before her slaves,
Under set eyes of melancholy cast,
She hid her inner chuckle at the events
That have been brought to pass--too well for her,
But for this house and hearth most miserably,--
As in the tale the strangers clearly told.
He, when he hears and learns the story's gist,
Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me!
How those old troubles, of all sorts made up,
Most hard to bear, in Atreus's palace-halls
Have made my heart full heavy in my breast!
But never have I known a woe like this.
For other ills I bore full patiently,
But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge,
Whom from his mother I received and nursed . . .
And then the shrill cries rousing me o' nights,
And many and unprofitable toils
For me who bore them. For one needs must rear
The heedless infant like an animal,
(How can it else be?) as his humor serve
For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes,
It speaketh not, if either hunger comes,
Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need;
And children's stomach works its own content.
And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind,
How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes,
And nurse and laundress did the selfsame work.
I then with these my double handicrafts,
Brought up Orestes for his father dear;
And now, woe's me! I learn that he is dead,
And go to fetch the man that mars this house;
And gladly will he hear these words of mine.
2.9k
i
This is for thou both miss Vicki, and miss Beth Stclair, true poet's
Miss Beth StClair, thy sonnet style, brings back the old smile I see;
Miss Vicki, writing of love so quickly, so beautifully inspiring
Miss beth, thy word's got me flying I'll buyeth thy book real soon.
ii
Miss Vicki, thou art an old soul made of gold, a home amongst homes, as thou liveth in mine state, miss beth, I'd seeith thee if I go to England, amongst the Beatle street's we'll speaketh of ourn living's, and reciteth sonnet's of Shakespearian knowledge.
iii
Miss Vicki, thy jargon is wrapped like a bouquet, glazed with honey, thine words art displayed, people in this world like Thee I do prayeth, that thine life wilt be joyful, and harmonious in thy tommorrow, beth, I feeleth thine wild's, as the sixties thou hadst.
iv
Beth StClair, if it was back in the day, we'd be wonderful friend's, thou wouldst hath watched me on a stage, singing poetic thunder, miss Vicki, when thou feeleth down and under, continue to write thy creator in thy works, and I promise thou both, thou both hath
A friend in me......
©Brandon nagley
©Miss Vicki/miss Beth StClair dedication for both of you (:::::
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
There is a poet
And poetess
That writeth;
In the slums
And the ghetto's;
In the suburb's
In the meadow's.
There is a poet
And poetess
That prophecieth
In the mountain's
In the city, neath
Their graves, in
Tomb's, free one's,
Slave's, some known,
Many doomed, in
Heaven's gates, some
Art poor, some telleth
Of fate, some art lonesome,
Some speaketh of amour',
Some linger in the shadows,
Tortured by demon's, anguished;
Fighting hellish and earthly battles.
There is a poet and poetess that writeth in blood and in ink:
Some feareth death, death to some doth succumb when these artist's speak. Some hath wealth, some with naught, some groweth their own food, whilst other's stick to store bought. Some art peasant's, some art farmer's, some poet's preach and teacheth; whilst other's want to alarm us. There is a poet and poetess in this life and the next; some looketh down on loved one's, whilst the living is blinded by material net's. Some art lost, forgotten, some speaketh Spanish, Hindi, English, Arabic, french, lost languages, or Latin. Some just want to love, whilst some seeketh to findeth love, some want to flyeth away, as if a falcon or a dove. Some thinkest their better than most, others thinkest they art not better then noone, feeling dead as if a ghost. Some jotteth poetry to make them remember living, some art charitable, whilst poet's in prison sit and rot from killing or stealing. Some passeth time staring at the ceiling, whilst some overwork, some casteth their ten percent to worldly lusts, whilst other's pay to God in church. There is a poet and poetess that writeth, being dead or alive; O' poet's were all distinctly different though the same, in God's poetic eye's..............
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
What dew so sweet
On the morning willow grows
And the blood runs true deep
Alas the body overthrows
Pray thee to gaze
Lay waste to the east
Upon western glades
Resounds, the bay of the beast
In mortal coil
On cracked earth resign
The body transform
Lay return to the mind
And in provincial mist
Walk thee twixt the cold
Eyes upon skin
And tattered remnants of clothes
And speaketh no name
But pray eat and sleep
And rest now anon
A fortnight defeat
For liketh the moonrise
Three days a month full
Give rise, hounds of hell
Ne're the sunrise to cull
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
What Light speaketh,
Unto the Darkness?
Whom is more forceful?
Which is more tyrannous?
Must you succumb to Light?
Or fear the Darkness?
Or both?
Must you Succumb to Light?
In order to overcome Darkness?
And if thou dost not fear Darkness?
When why should thee succumb to Light?
Light doth not symbolize good.
Light is as violent as Darkness.
For both are to be feared.
Light to be feared because of its' fickleness.
And Darkness to be feared of its' unknowing.
Pick up thine poison.
Acquire light, and thou art doomed.
Venture into darkness,
And thou art doomed.
Tis true, that the creatures,
Lurk in the shadows.
But the Light dost not,
Have them vanish.
Creatures are not banish'd,
From the Light.
But Darkness makes them unseen.
Spark thine torches,
Look among the creatures.
Yet a torch is Light,
And Light is a fickle being.
Light is easily lost,
Only to find yourself,
Once again set in Darkness.
Darkness... where the creatures roam.
Light... where the creatures are known.
Light doth not make Darkness timid.
But Light shakes below the hand of Darkness.
Light is fragile, yet darkness in itself.
For without Light, You obtain darkness.
Once again, spark thine torch.
Look beyond where the Light canst grasp.
What dost flood thine vision?
Darkness.
Permanent, Light is not.
But Darkness...
O... Darkness...
Thou art eternal.
Overwhelming and omniscient.
The world hath been created amoung Darkness.
Therefore, humanity doomed by its' creator,
To remain in Darkness for its' existence.
And Light never to prevail.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
She writeth mellifluous calligraphy
When she speaketh in her mother tongue;
She's ineffable, irresistible,
Tis, she's mine chosen one.
Her kaleidoscopic ambience
pirouettes around mine being, heaven's own, the most beautiful soul; O' how I'm blessed with this queen.
Supine I layeth, looking aloft mine glimpse, a brightness flashed, in Asian sash, turtle shell's around her hips.
At that moment, I hadst an epiphany, I was finally living, to God I owed thanksgiving, for this archangel he hadst sent to me.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
I challenged him
burly ******* captain
stubbled beard as coarse as sandpaper
standing there in muggy dusk
arms akimbo,
mama san starched uniform stained with swagger and sweat
two silver captain's bars ******* any of my brilliance or bravado
all he had to do was speaketh the words
“need those maps, head out at 2230 hours”
and that was a death sentence
which was commuted to life
if four decades since has been life
there are not words for the black
of moonless jungle
except nothingness and paralytic fear
and through that lightless, lifeless, abyssness
I crawled, crouched and crept along
sometimes as slowly as the minute hand on my watch
the silence, the silence, the silence
became my splintered cross
to carry to my place of crucifixion
at my Calvary Hill behind barbed wire, blue lead barrels and
fearful eyes
silence, silence, silence, black wordlessness
black soundlessness
punctuated by shallow precious breaths
and imagined slant-eyed demons
waiting behind each berm
to turn the timeless night into timelessness
of more black
should I chamber a round?
and follow its solitary sound
into the silent holy night
and shatter my own fragile fright?
would that end this knowing without knowing?
and answer the question,
“is this fear worse than the answer?”
since questions have answers but answers have nothing
the nothing of which I was sure I would become a part
in the silence, the silence, the silence
of the black canopied jungle
in Tay Ninh Province
in 1967
where I was sentenced to death but allowed to live
in silent, black wordlessness
sentenced to live
to wonder, after all these years of shivering fright and flickering light
did the captain become a human?
And was I really allowed to live?
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 9:58 AM UTC
i.
I'm unrestricted with her
Meaning free;
I'm her, she is I, we art one
A king and his queen.
ii.
Unbounded, unshackled
Sentient in comprehension unknown to mortal creature;
We hath wing's, with moonlight ring's
A ceremony shalt be soon, with stellar feature's.
iii.
No doctor's, nor teacher's
We art ourn own healer's;
We art different than the rest
We shalt overcometh devil's, and demonic test's.
iv.
For tis I am blessed
To knoweth such an empress to mine throne;
She reside's in every space of this poetic mind
She maketh me seeith when I'm blind, speaketh when I'm mute
For tis
She's mine home.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
**Committing is hard
Committing adultery?... Not so much
Oh, you want to act like I just crossed a line?
...Uhhh... I don't think I did... not so much
Relationship’s scarred
But you know how good that forbidden pleasure is… to place your hands on that which you’ve been told ‘ Do not touch’
You know it is true
Oh… you do know that, I know you do
You've been there before… you probably didn't even mean to score
But somehow you did
And she ended up in your bed
And…
Well, no need to get into detail… enough said
But wait, I just cannot stop there
This one is for the groom who, at the altar, vows as solemnly as he is able to swear
Never to betray his bride, but thinks... ‘well, depending on the level of hotness of the Au Pair’
Loyalty has a life span, and so does Trust
And what an enemy they have in this character called Lust
‘Tis just but the truth I speaketh… one that we see
Our mindsets should adjust drastically if we ever hope to be…
Free…
Of the possibility
That we might cheat…
For when I look around society at the moment, all I see…
Is a bunch of people with the potential to commit adultery
Oh! Oh!**
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Traveling through the dusk tunnel
A pinpoint of light at the end;
Warmth overtaketh me
The beginning of life's around the bend.
One hundred kin
Waiting to greet me in;
All smiling, all radiating
Ages range from five to one-hundred and nine,
Some looketh old, though all's young: no age existeth, time here is not told. Age only existeth back on earth, though here; all age's art the same, no one is special by their birth.
Betwixt mine family standeth tall mine savior and lord
Jesus Christ the king; with angel's whom standeth beside him, as tis they speaketh together telepathically. In Christ's hand's he reacheth out to me- as whilst I looketh at his eye's aqua green, the universe showeth itself in a way to Man unseen; and whilst at that moment clearly I hadst seen the hole's in his Palm's and feet, his word's " cometh hither mine son" I bowed in front of mine kin to him instantaneously.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
What is a poet?
If he
Or she
Canst not spilleth their soul on a Papyrus?
Or speaketh their soul's poetry in words?
If one poet canst canst not speaketh their poetry in word's
Or write it down on some Papyrus,
Than that's control
And no poet
Ever wanted to be controlled!!!!
It's as if a prophet in the oldened day's
Whence man tried to control the prophets truth from being spoken
Take Moses as an example.
They tried to holdeth back his truth,
And the water's didst turneth into undrinkable blood....
Never control a poet's writing's
Or his souls word's!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesoms poets poetry
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
i.
Mine Waling-Waling
If mine existence soon doth leaveth;
Mine psalm's art left here on Hello Poetry
In thine Palm's they shalt speaketh.
ii.
If this shalt be the ******
Mine rhyme's in thee;
Shalt be entwined
Into thy mind, I will meeteth thee in heaven's gate nine, the back.
iii.
If soon shalt be mine termination
I'll meeteth thee at the station;
Wherein cerulean airmist
Shalt maketh me drift, onward ahead.
iv.
Amongst the living
Not dead;
I shalt findeth thou
If today's mine last breathe somehow, I'll be waiting in a shroud.
v.
If mine Incarnadine
Shalt be spilt as wine;
And I hemorrhage from mine brain
Just remember queen, eternally, we shalt meet and be one again.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley/Filipino rose dedication
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
When she speaketh
Those purest newbirth words
( I loveth thee hunny)
I remember to breathe again...
As tis a respire of fresh air ...
From mine amare....
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
The legion of mine zeal for thee
Outreaches unknown boundaries,
No barbed wire to holdeth me back
Just a ( I loveth thee to mine mami) ( to mine love)
And a ( I needeth thee now) oh papi ( from mine love)!!!!
From the one I sit on hold....
Slang we shalt speaketh as peasants
But ourn amare richer than most,
To guide her by mine allegiance
To bathe with her in comet lighting toast...
Her jazzy sensual patois
To pleat me in mine king throne bassinet,
The queen to taketh mine angst
And lie me in a dream I canst forget.
She whispers deeply secrets
As mine ears perk in excite,
Her eyes burn voluptuous through mine
She comforts me at night!!!!!
I canst never tread off
From the only familiar ***** rose,
I've toldeth thee all long ago
We were past life amour's of long beginning show.
The asteroids we used as projection
To maketh ourn way here,
Yet now the earth's ending
We must return to infinate angel years...
Ourn Chronograph's don't telleth Pace's
Only ourn soul's affection for eachother,
As a monarch of the Luna atmosphere she is
Twas I was sent here to bring her back into her home
Mine arms.....
Mine eyes
Mine mind
Mine soul
Mine spirit......
Wherein she already knoweth she belongs!!!!
As tis
She was mine
Long before she ever kneweth it..
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Remove thy ribbon
that I may
breath in the scent
of sweet night hair
pressed soft
against my cheek
as thou rests
upon my proffered shoulder
thy warmth of touch
infused
with heat of unspoken passion
leadeth me to
gently
caress from thee
all thoughts
but those of you and I
with whispers
soft
I speaketh my heart
as you now
sleep
bathed in moonlight
held aloft
upon the promise
that when you awake
I will be waiting.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
i.
Without her I
Am naught;
With her
I am all.
ii.
Without her I
Am lost;
With her
I am found.
iii.
Without her I
Am in mine grave;
With her, I am free
Not a slave.
iv.
Without her I
Am in peril;
With her
I canst seeith, speaketh, breatheth, liveth on her holy water.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
i.
Last eve', whilst mine Filipino rose
Was falling deep into her slumber;
I started to doze off, into hypnagogic state
I wasn't sleeping, nor was I fully awake.
ii.
In the midst of this hallucinatory reality
I couldst discern a tender mild voice, betwixt this actuality;
The strong yet forward word's spoke as this to me
Brandon, "doth thou want to cometh home to JESUS CHRIST" ?
iii.
As tis the word's JESUS CHRIST were in italic bold font
From the way it was saidst, it was sung as an angel wouldst singeth his name up in heaven; someone, not knowing whom, asked if I wanted to cometh home, was this an angel, or a dream?
iv.
Ive hadst encounter's with demonic being's daily, as tis I've had angelic encounter's as well, wouldst twenty seven be mine last;
As I've thought of this a many whilst's, as tis every musician of mine I've loved died at this age, as two plus seven equal's nine.
v.
Nine, mine favorite number, mine sport's digit always chosen as a boy, nine, the number meaning completion in all religion's;
The figure representing the completion of life's own cycle, as tis so many star's completed their journey at 27, was I being called?
Ivi.
Didst someone asketh me to cometh home? Back where I belong? To the star's? To God's son? Number's alway's meaneth something; in mine bible, in all religion's, in all thing's, as tis angel's speaketh in front of thee or in dream's, was that mine angel? Calling me?
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
On a patterned nebula, paramour's giggle whilst locking warmly hand's, like two stray's of a different course, they runneth by none command's, all promises filled, as their cheek's do touch, like flourishing rainbow's, heaven to ground's lunch. They maketh their own commandment's, as tis the world's just a stage, grandiose in their delightment, making newsstand page. Bambino's of the unknown, covered in flamboyant flakes, overcoming the new-age step's, of this passing place. And whilst they art simpering, their taste buds over-runneth, their cup is not made from steel, but gold of king's and Queen's chalice. And whilst at dusk, when the blood moon cometh out, the neighbor's canst heareth their love, out the window's it doth bounce. Echoe's of their novela, they'll speaketh many tongue's, and whilst their alone together, their embracing head on shoulder love.....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
gaunt creature that wounds with bitter prose
it is thee, the 13th wraith of wich i speaketh to
no exorcism may deprive thee of thy demons
thine hatred is a monstrous behemoth
and thou art the architect of thine own madness
i have given thee songs and music
to accompany thine addictions
thou art fire and fire blackens
i am murky waters and thou drownest in mine dephts
i shouldst have let thee drown, but i loved thine timid soul
our boats have parted forevermore
you sit by some shore, praying to thine vaporous goddess
i am some secret ocean, you cannot dream to fathom
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
My son, if thou wilt receive
my words, and hide my
commandments with thee:
2 So that thou incline thine ear
unto wisdom, and apply thine
heart to understanding;
3 Yea, if thou criest after
knowledge, and liftest up thy
voice for understanding;
4 If thou seekest her as silver,
and searchest for her as for hid
treasures;
5 Then shalt thou understand
the fear of the Lord, and find the
knowledge of God.
6 For the Lord giveth wisdom:
out of his mouth cometh
knowledge and understanding.
7 He layeth up sound wisdom
for the righteous: he is a buckler
to them that walk uprightly.
8 He keepeth the paths of
judgment, and preserveth the way of
his saints.
9 Then shalt thou understand
righteousness, and judgment, and
equity; yea, every good path.
10 When wisdom entereth into
thine heart, and knowledge is
pleasant unto thy soul;
11 Discretion shall preserve
thee, understanding shall keep
thee:
12 To deliver thee from the way
of the evil man, from the man that
speaketh froward things;
13 Who leave the paths of
uprightness to walk in the ways of
darkness;
14 Who rejoice to do evil, and
delight in the frowardness of the
wicked;
15 Whose ways are crooked,
and they froward in their paths:
16 To deliver thee from the
strange woman, even from the
stranger which flattereth with her
words;
17 Which forsaketh the guide
of her youth, and forgetteth the
covenant of her God.
18 For her house inclineth
unto death, and her paths unto the
dead.
19 None that go onto her return
again, neither take they hold of
the paths of life.
20 That thou mayest walk in the
way of good men, and keep the
paths of the righteous.
21 For the upright shall dwell in
the land, and the perfect shall
remain in it.
22 But the wicked shall be cut
off from the earth, and the
transgressors shall be rooted out
of it.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC