To watch the sun glare,
a rainbow of colors shining this world,
to smell the rain fall
a reprieve from the chaos
splendidness surrounds life
the death of a spider
when the eggs hatch,
the larval caterpillar
wrapped up in a cocoon;
emerges into an elegant butterfly,
the bacterial decay of nature
into flourishing mushrooms,
the ***** of bees
into sweet, sweet honey,
waste and manure
encourage bloom of radiant flowers,
the grace and beauty of youth
becoming the wisdom and dignity of winkled skin,
lessons learned
from hardships experienced

when in negative light
remember,
there will be another chance to improve
another time to change the next outcome
your view, aspect of the universe
greatly changes the situation
your attitude, your reaction
towards others, towards life
is what monumentally effects the context

so prideful us humans
an ego trip indeed
an argument of the opposites,
a debate of loved ones,
are both sides wrong?
often not,
yet the argument remains
admit your id
profess your apology,
it does not have to
mean that you
are the one at fault,
(though you very well might be)
it does not mean
the other is infinitely correct,
sincere it should be
it simply states,
you are sorry for the distress,
sorry for the difference of opinions,
thoughts, ideas
that could not be controlled,
you are admitting
you value your relationship
much, much more
then your self righteousness,
if you genuinely care
you will listen,
and if you listen
you will be on the road
to understanding
*and only at understanding
can you truly love

Yes, perhaps 'tis true.
Everywhere I go-with all t'ese dwindling thoughts on my mind-
'tis always the same shadows that roam, and moan-
before my eyes: and t'eir never-ending business.
Crawling on t'eir lips,
poisoning t'eir bosoms, chins, and hips-
but unrelenting in their unfolded shades;
with a swamp of bruises like mazes-tangled mazes;
likening them to spoiled, yet uncherished, little pearls.
How despairing-such views I obtaineth, on my every journey!
But shalt there still be space for us, to be outstanding;
to understand this world from a pair of eyes
glistening like unquestioning gentleness; but learning simultaneously
its unvivid perspectives
with such comprehension t'at is crystal clear;
such wit t'at is far from recklessness and greed-
salutations that are pure, and distant from any blighting threats
of equivocation? For t'is world is, in spite of its minuteness,
was framed and brought into life from
awesome darkness, abysmal cells of lifelessness
and hateful ambiguity.
How terrifying!
And often have I enforced myself to wandereth into those shades,
with unmolested poems boiling up in my brains-
and t'ose windy thoughts toppling out into th' paper
on my hand,
jostling through my veins like some ghastly, furious power
t'at's unseen, invisible as it is to th' human eye-
frail and susceptible to th' weather's surly temptations-
and entrapping me in the shrieks of its wondrous grot-
so I could never wane it any further, in my guileless brambles.
How I have dreaded t'ose sights-and t'eir dormant treachery! Lessons of
guilt, teaching of such guilty flakes of harm
and abomination! And how in my following quietude have I pondered-
t'at t'is would be just a balmy prelude to some far bigger strains of
mockery, obstinacy, and destitution. Hark to how those powers
shall arise! And that will indeed be th' abjuration of our splendidness-
everything shalt stop at a halt-everything will become flawed,
and no more poems shalt be liberated-from living souls, and t'eir undamaged
blood, as t'ey still are now! How I shiver at t'ose possibilities, as soon as our
latent enemies be on th' loose-free in t'eir ruthlessness, traces of dark,
unperturbed miseries, and brutal savagery.
And shalt we shine no more-like those summer flowers that are waiting for us-
to be fed daily like th' hungry morning doves;
with their thorns as sharp as love, and innocent gladness
in the arms of their lips-'tis but a scent so dear to the heartbeat
of oureth salubrious mornings.
But t'at danger, danger indeed! And its eyes of glaring monstrosity!
And 'tis just of substantial profoundness t'at we should be
cautious-yes, cautious, my dear fellows, towards t'ose signs
of th' upcoming storm-th malevolent storm of human rage, t'at shalt attack us
one day-at one perilous night, unpredicted and unexpected is its fate-
especially when all th' battling footsteps areth
peaceful in their slumbers-and no more palms dancing around
piles of paper-in th' holy procurement of continual wealth.
How t'at moment shalt be our early Armageddon-awakened shalt be
all rivers of terrors, and waves of hatred. How t'is beautiful solitude shalt end-
in th' fierce burning, brimming death of t'at flame-credulous shalt we be,
disempowered from th' heat-which shalt bring us but our dead feet.
Thus I but sincerely hope t'at gloom shalt not conquer our race-
the noblest of all creatures on earth-on t'is dull earth, fatigued as it is
from all th' uniformed battles, hatred, and anger-t'at untiringly sneer
at th' faces of those dying soldiers.
Peace, peace, my dear mates!
Ought to realize thou now-t'at swords shalt shed blood only if instructed.
So tranquility is but in oureth hands-yes, we are but th' key to our own salvation,
and since it is so, shalt we move forward and be the charms of t'is world's
new foundation: for it is our own life that we shalt save.
Peace, my friends, shalt but break all t'ese unseen boundaries amongst us,
and enrich our fathom of t'eir unspoken presence; so t'at th' small world is but
th' most dwelling of comfort, and aught but ease to our hearts-
our very dear, dear hearts in t'is life.

think  I  shall  be springtime; such   clumsy
scent  of  the world   collapsing  not  with  nets
but   hands  not upon  trellis  but    bodies –
    sleep    shall   carry   us  to  inches
of  terrible  speech    such somnolent world senses
    quietness   in  the  rivers   of   our blood;
how  murmurously  veritable    moment
     leaps   forth  ripe  in the   air   of such  splendidness
when  it   was not   mountains
    but    your   *******   deep within   the    Earth of  me
and I  rain    cleaving  the   scent   of   the world
    into   two   separateness   until   the
enormously     ****   moon   plunges    within;
   I    shall   be   a   tree
and you, a rose    or   springtide, or   everything
   that
            blooms,    withers,
dances – new  beginnings;

i.

(DedPoet-aka-Ernesto L. Gonzales)
May god bless thee mine friend, man of honor, Heavensent;
Thy soul, may it be in peace, God's love cover's thee west to east.

ii.

(NvrMnd)
A poet of otherworldly mind, poetic of new aged times;
Dont let thy depression over cometh thy soul, be unbound, whole.

iii.

(Laurent)
a dear writer of inspiration, let thy writing be navigation; spread thine hope to foreign places, with love friend.

iv.

(Tropica)
Poetess of aficionado tenderness, splendidness guideth thee;
A poet of human qualities, an artist for love's recipe in all form.

v.

(Darlene Chavez)
Let thy darkness turneth into light, let the night turn to day;
Be not shackled to Misery's way's,, but knoweth God's with thee.

vi.

(Sara Murray)
A fan of the strange, a taste that hast meaning, caring and giving;
Reality mixed with dreaming, word's golden, gleaming to aloft.

vii.

(Sally A Bayan)
From the terra firma of mine queen, the most thoughtful, delightful being, an aura that screameth of all holiness aisle's.

viii.

(naǧí)
A native light, of old day's flame's, a bright tunnel beyond the pain's, a pathway to other places where faces art spiritual.

ix.

(damsel in distress)
A woman of talented word's, like Herb's, elixered and pictured;
Snapshot's art taken from thine view, with all sight in old truth.

x.

(Dreams of Sepia)
Writing of mysterious writing's. Though honest, inviting;
Exciting in thy new day's pages, anger love and saved for us all.

xi.

(SoulSurvivor)
A woman like an auntie to me, a woman of generation's who helpeth the blind to none god seeith, as thou art a friend!!!!

xii.

(SE Reimer)
Man of many technique's, giving hope and beauties when we art weak, thy word's speaketh of medicinal purposes for all to seek.

xiii.

(PoetryJournal)
Writing short lines. Beyond mankind; thine artwork is fine;
Making other's look again, rewind, thine design's art heaven.

xiv.

(Melissa S)
A mother from the place of alabama, with southern charm;
Writing southern song's, of southern scar's,, as well as smile's.

xv.

(Poetic Thoughts)
Thou lover of books, a enthusiastic being of singing;
Keepeth on with thy work's, let the earth shake on thy poetry.

xvi.

(Eddie Starr Poetry)
Let Christ continueth to work in thine life, showeth love as he taught, and forgiveness; thou shalt soon findeth thy wife!!!

xvii.

(Paul Gaffney)
A gentleman who liketh simple poetry, that hit's thee best;
A way of relieving stress is writing down daily thought's, great!!

xviii.

(Rosalind Heather Alexander)
Overcometh those whom leaveth thee due to thy faith;
There missing out on truth and God's grace, continueth in love!!!

xix.

(IvyB **)
A woman who knoweth pain, keepeth faith in trial rain's;
Keepeth held high, the mist is only a short period, as angel's wait.

**.

(NV)
Creature of sadness, in a world of madness, making sense of living; let lighting seraph's be thy giving, look aloft to hope.

xxi.

(Joseph Paris)
A man of many duo's, Chicago street walker, rebel era, man of many poetic mirror's, let thy beautiful reflection dance the city.

xxii.

(ThePoet)
Thy word's of hurt and screaming, of hope and dreaming;
Is Alive in all ourn spirit's, trust thy creator, let the light near it.

xxiii.

(PoetessLiz)
Poetry is thy vital force, poetry is thy life porch;
Thou art not so lonely as thou doth thinkest friend, we all careth.

xxiv.

(SG Holter)
A man of blossoming stanza's, lines of manna;
Holy old detail's, word's of holy grail highness.

xxv.

(susan)
Digging through the deepest thought's creating poetry;
Spread thy gospel, plant thy seed's, and let them spread around.

xxvi.

(Dawn S)
Also new to this site, welcome; spread thy foregone scripture's;
Like ancient Picasso picture's, thine painting's art priceless.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Dedication poem \part 2 new one...

In a time not so long ago
When I had no hope,
Steam raising from a gleaming stream
In the middle of lavish mountains so serene,

The golden water rolled into a pond
And how it happened I do not know,
There I stood knee deep in the waters of tomorrow
I took slow steps not to disturb
the calm waters there that lie

I laid at the cool waters edge motionless as if dead
The water danced with the wind
I wished that the splendidness would never end
A gray stone in the middle of the pond, alone

Remembrance of the world, beauty all around that no one knows
The sun a redder glow, leaped across the waters low
The majestic trees caught the sun, and long did it seem to hold them
The light could not get away, there it sat and long it stayed

A place where uplifting winds forgot
No sorrow could ever be brought
A shrine to us from god, the kingly trees slowly nod

Birds from the heavens drift down to drink
The water gently ripples about their beaks
Leaves lay at rest upon the earths breast
Still and undisturbed for so long it seems to me

Only angels dance upon ground so soft
Humans find beauty and then get lost
The sun began to sink, and the waters slowly recede

Up a waterfall it traveled
I stood and ran after
but soft leaves had turned to gravel
The moon began to rise, as did the less happy skies

Ran and hid did the trees, now only houses
lay gathererd in front of me
All beauty must sleep, and sleep it did
But how I wish it would come again

In my bed I did lay long, the sounds of the forest in my head a song
And as I faded from reality I caught a glimpse
Of the golden stream of reverence

Doring — not much has changed since
you last spoke.
the children are still deep in the mud.
the bellhouse at Poblacion still rings
when it is 5 PM and the ubiquitous bazaar
   sit on the cornerstones.
however, when the white angels began
     latticing you to contraptions,
the furling scent of your homely perfume
      has gone dithering. grandpa Mario's
revolver is somewhere hidden wreathed
    under a wrestle of things we do not
use anymore — lottery tickets ( 4 AM, grandpa would fall asleep reeking of
    ale as the lady announces frail luck
over the somnolence. kitchenware longs
for the ****** of your tremulous hands. the Lazy Susan is attended by only a bundle of rotten bananas, Mario's old
nauticals: whiskey bottles, scotch, goblets, unrest of glasses. we still
buy pandesal near Beng's piano maestro.)

nothing much has changed since you
last spoke. mother held your hands longer than imagined trill of Maya outside tightwire. it didn't flood in the swelter of
the cataclysm — years ago it was deathly silent when you were sitting on the rocking chair waiting for the flood to subside, your grandchildren laying cold on the aged floorboard, rescued by
zigzag of newspapers. it was the lightest
of darknesses. nothing much has changed
    since you last spoke and in your
silence we heard the most immense of
voices. the streets remain pockmarked.
ocher pots festooned by wily flowers,
stems of hope. your hands tryingly gripping whatever
     was brought to their splendidness
looked like forever smiles.

Doring — the nights are fuller,
my sweet old etcetera of chores.

we all lay quietly in the mud for now.

Unfinished journeys plague me still
Reminding me of who I was
But also who I could not be
There was a path to that me once
Discovered among the bramble
And beautiful flowers throughout
Lying in wait among the thorns
Lions with brightly-petaled manes
So I dared to venture inward
Drawn further by their splendidness
Head swimming with lovey music
Yet the chimera soon faded
The once vibrant colors dulling
Speckles of crimson strewn about
For the barbs had pierced all the while
Laid waste by the driving desire
Retreating with my gaze still fixed
Or more so forced away at once
With scars baring glorious pain
Never to trust my heart or mind
Nor return to what once was me

I know your name
And that is all I have
Of you
But in some strange way
You and I are the same
We are nobodies
In a world of somebodies
Lacking in social graces, we are
Obscured by oblivion
Sans the thrill of appeal, we are
Confined to the solitude
Of our loneliness
No true love will touch us
Even though we tried
And tried our very best
Our beauties are unattended
Because no one sees
What's inside of us
But I see you as a delicate flower
Your aura surrounds
Me with splendidness
What's in you is truly good
Though no one understands
And no one ever could
You and I,
The tears we shed are one
Though in this lifetime
We will never be popular
There is another world
That exists far beyond us
And there we shall stay
Without judgment
In men's eyes
Nor jest on women's lips
Friends we are and
Friends we'll remain
Until the sun tires of rising
And the night frowns its gloom
On all our doubts and
All our fears....

Come away with me.....

Silence
Silent the crowd
Followed by a round of applause
After the announce
Splendid.....
Greatest performance
Performed the audience
Reformed innocence
In my inner sense
Resurrection of my consciousness....
I remembered
The splendidness that made you a splendor was splendid

I can’t think when I’m surrounded
by your splendidness,
in your subtle, spicy scent,
your touches too much
for me to take in,
my skin swimming in drunkenness
over your presence.

You are like rich cinnamon
that smells so intriguing,
that tastes so mouthwatering,  
that enhances my sensations for you,
needing you more than I need myself.

You wrap me
In your bundle of bliss,
held captive in your hot passion,
waiting for you to come
into my cell and fill the void to my core.

When you took control of my body, my heart was trembling
in your reach, to be this close to a man filled with me unconditional
emotions, just wanting to embrace your hold, feel your dreamy
muscles caress mine, our hands intertwined like two doves
flying in the harmonious blue skies, our minds inspired
by the beautiful words written in our souls, our eyes
in utter unison, captured by your rapturous rocking body,
how your touches set me aflame, yearning to live this way
in your spectacular space, how fragrant you smell to me,
how I could vanish in your deepest thoughts, sharing
our hot moments together, soaked in your fluid rhythms.

I had never felt so at peace before until your fingers clung
to the tingling hairs on my skin, drinking my sensuous
diction, releasing high vowels in my mouth, dissolving
down my throat as I held onto your flourishing and
magically swelling arms, your splendidness so deep
within my subconsciousness, imprisoned in your element
of expansion, your compass of flashing flames of sexiness,
turning up the ignition to my heat generator.