Dear Poet Friends, this poem was composed as a tribute and praise
to the Creator of heaven and earth way back in the year 2008, & was posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. The Creator’s handiwork has inspired Poets, Artists, and Humans alike since the dawn of our
civilisation, and shall continue to do so for our future generations! Hope you like this poetic composition. I will be grateful if you comment only after having read the entire poem.  Thanks, - Raj

VISIONS OF THE VAST BLUE EMPYREAN
                * BY RAJ NANDY*

       '’The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
        The sky proclaim His divine handiwork!’’
                                                   - Psalm of David.

(I)
The SKY is a multidimensional manifestation of God's
creation,
A translucent blue canopy above all and one.
The sky has inspired humans for centuries to aspire
and dream, -
To seek His blessings and guidance from above;
And shall continue to do so for centuries to come!
The sky beckons and lures with its mystical spell;
Making humans with leaping aspirations to try out
and reach, -
Those frontiers where the sky is the unlimited limit of
all our hopes, aspirations and dreams!
The sky, lush, luring, luminous, and sweet, -
Invites, entice, and fills us with a sense of wonder!
How God-like in appearance, and almost human in
its expressions!
The sky has remained as a silent witness to the birth
of our planet,
Since God created the firmament and the heavens,
before creating the Earth.
The sky, a silent spectator since eons past,
Shall continue to see the fading away of old stars;
And formation of baby galaxies in a cosmic drama of
His creation,
Lying beyond the comprehension of Mankind!
While we try to delve His secrets with our space probes,
Which we can neither fully comprehend nor unravel;
And shall only continue to wonder and marvel!

(II)
The blue sky continues to inspire and even melts,
While its blue translucence silently seep into the
Poet's heart,
As he sits to reflect and shape his thoughts,
And the vast expanse of the ethereal sky,
Stretching his mind with future dreams and
visions!
While the azure blue begins to flow through his
veins, and gets transmitted through his pen, -
To convey his exalted thoughts and deepest feelings,
in poetic lines and verse, -
Which becomes the Poet's sole mission.
And at night when the Poet meditates, he catches a
falling star,
And writes a poem on it and keeps it in his pocket, -
Saving it for a rainy day!
And during the silence of the night, when the hours
grow dark and deep,
And the sky gently droops and drips;
The poet wakes up to write, and writes to sleep!

(III)
The sky flows on to the canvas of the Painter,
As he tries to depict its varied complexions and moods,
With his limited colours, shades and hues,
Flashing and spilling his canvas with touches of tints
and tones,
To captivate the capricious, transient and fanciful moods,
which the sky adorns!
The deep blue empyrean is at times blissful and sublime,
Changing from a radiant, opulent, and iridescent, -
To threatening, cruel, and violent;
Both devastating and destructive as the sweeping
tornado or a hurricane!
Yet when God decides to paint the Aurora Borealis those
magical Northern Lights, -
Those glowing diaphanous curtains of waving, swirling
streamers of lights,
With its red, green, blue, violet, and luminescent spell-
binding shades;
How can any artist foolishly dare to compete or replicate
His celestial art?
For the Auroras are a reflection of His live real time
handiwork, -
Which shall never diminish or fade!

(IV)
The crystal blue arch of heaven, a glorious canopy
cover over our head,
Blesses us with the much needed shade;
From the tormenting and scorching rays of the
relentless Summer's sun.
With its varying layers of passing clouds, -
As the sun completes its diurnal rounds!
Those high cheerful cirrus and cirro-stratus clouds
of the Winter sky,
The meditating alto-cumulus and alto-stratus clouds
of medium heights;
And those upward swelling, ambitious clouds of
cumulonimbus, -
Carrying the thunder bolts and lightning of the great
Zeus do confound us!
And finally those low sheets of stratus clouds of the
rumbling monsoon sky;
Bringing incessant rain and lightning darts, -
Flashing like a whip lash across the sky and the earth!
With the speed of sound always lagging behind that
of light, -
Thus thunder bolts always follow those blinding flashing
darts of dazzling blue lights!
While the good Earth absorbs it all like some suffering
soul,
And forever regenerates itself to transcend its
tormenting plight!

(V)
The clouds floating like fluffy wool of cotton and
the downs of white goose feathers,
Adds dimensions, visual depth, definition and a sense
of perception;
For the human mind to behold and meditate, -
Those vast measureless depths of the infinite space!
The clouds with its varying forms and shapes,
At times like the ice cream cones with vanilla
tops and wisps of cream;
Keep floating across the cerulean blue, forming
and melting, -
From one nothingness into another,  below the
arched vault of the heavens!
And at times the clouds coalesce to dissipate as
gentle rain,
With rhythmic beats, or follow some wild musical note,
Lashing against the earth like a dancer in trance!
While it brings down the cool aqua, the very elixir of
life to earth.

(VI)
The sky is held captive by its own void of eternal
silence.
As nature's mirror, it reflects and also shows us a
glimpse of the infinite!
While the night sky by itself exhibits a wondrous
sight,
With the sentinel stars shining like a living hymn
written in light!
And the ebony treasure vault of heavens hold the
sparkling and glittering countless gems;
Of pearls of lily white, rubies with red sheen,
And galaxies shimmering like hyacinth of purple
light!
The sky envelopes the earth all around in an elusive
embrace of unconsummated love!
But each night, in hope and expectations the Sky
adorns itself, -
With diamond necklace and pearls of milky white,
Woven round its dark black flowing stresses;
Casting longing looks towards the beloved Earth,
To whom she is attracted from her very birth!

(VII)
The sky despite its wide range of colourful
spectrum and moods,
Forever retains its pristine colour of azure blue,
behind its gray and somber clouds.
Each morning the sky presents us with a clean
blue slate,
Where nothing ever remains written or etched!
Inspiring humans to make a new beginning,
Before time runs out and it becomes too late!
Yet the sky never forgets to reflect the arched
rainbow over its brow,
Once the thunder clouds and storms dissipate!
Keeping our hopes and aspirations forever alive;
And impelling us to strive in all our endeavours
and to excel!

(VIII)
The sky remains as a revelation of God's immaculate
handiwork.
The blue welkin, God's treasure trove, with its
capricious moods,
Sometimes furious, sometimes iridescent, but by nature
divinely sublime!
The sky a recurrence of happenings, with its speckled dance, -
Of colours, cadence, and of light and shade,
Giving us a taste, smell and feel of eternity, -
Which appears as real, though illusory and ephemeral!
Transcending all our scientific formulas, speculations
and intricate *******-up logic;
Since many mystical and unknown energy forms exist in
our sky and space,
Beyond the realms of Quantum Physics , String Theory,
the Higgs Field and Relativity!  * ( see Notes below)
And forces can even be made to emanate from the human
mind and soul and to transcend, -
To blend with those vibrations in the celestial spheres of
the Divine!

(IX)
The sky shall forever remain a source of exhilaration
and exhortation for mankind, -
And as an exaltation of God's divine and lofty thoughts!
The sky also remains as our ultimate frontier, -
Stretching the dimensions of human consciousness,
Till our consciousness learns to merge with the Divine;
To become one and to blend, under the blue vault of
our blissful Empyrean!
                                                       -  by RAJ NANDY, NEW DELHI

(*NOTES: The five different versions of the String Theories know as the 'The M- Theory' of Quantum Physics, which tries to explain the origin of all things through the vibrations of nano strings. The latest discovery of the Higgs Field, which is said to add mass to subatomic particles; are our humble and insufficient efforts to understand God’s mysterious creation of the universe and space!)
      (ALL COPY RIGHT ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY)

puffs so alluring
three dimensional
but you're not
i want to touch your creamy exterior
but all i get is moisture
your shading is ravishing
symmetrical paint thing
wisps of stratus horse tail ice
dusty cumulus marsh of mallow
your nimbus is what i dream
charcoal colored opaque
mixed in with a little blue
you make it hard
not to stare
at you
so eager as light shines off
your behind
you'll soon be mine.
overcast clear

What I seek here is as a writer astutely commented “it was the pure breath of God playing on
Human heart strings” where better to start than an instrument that is played in such fashion
Solely by the wind its name is from ****** the Greek god of the wind my changeup calls for the
Wind of the one true God my line in lost friend not a person but a great black oak that grew on
A California ranch for over a hundred years in a storm it was destroyed the lines read this way
Two divergent seeds the ground did divide one of wooden grain the other flesh and blood
Their branches throughout the community do abide as charming as church bells ringing touching all the
Flesh and blood pertains to the ranch family that was so honored by this majestic guest all those years
That’s what I am speaking of bells are associated with the Aeolian harp because their sound is carried on
The wind crisp and clean without contamination this is written that we might prepare ourselves and
Have the pure spirit blow across our souls and from it have a better year ultimately a better life first in
These examples we will move closer to the Aeolian harp you will see this isn’t just living but its
Excelling in the richest spheres our lives can and must strive for this magnificence we are not
Just here just to expend time and enjoy ourselves we are to be in pursuit of a great and eternal
Reward there are many stratus of life others are in earthy terms more advanced that is only on
Social levels in the spirit we truly are equal each according to their gifts will answer on a same
Plane fair and honest judgment so that alone should birth passion in each one I want to be the
Best I can be not to out show another but to present our selves honorably and show we put in
The same effort as others first know all are not chosen to have such dramatic tunes of the harp
To drift across life’s varied landscape ours still will be unique and the highest tunes possible and
Will resound with glory we ourselves to a degree will be pleasantly surprised truly so it will be
Determined on the closeness we have with His Holy spirit when I first heard the harp was in
Hannibal Missouri I was in this rich place of American story telling the boy hood home of
Samuel Clemens better known as Mark Twain I was on the river frontage road the great
Mississippi was to my right but I wasn’t thinking of Tom Sawyer my thoughts weighed heavy on
My mind I was far away up by Chicago at a church where brother and Sister Willis was pastor
Then back in the present here in Hannibal this was their home town a beautiful blonde eight
Year old was their pride and joy life was full she had a older brother who was ten it was a
Musical joyous life and then dark ominous clouds rolled in one so filled with life small and
Gentle it was one of the cruelest and terrifying cancers sorry even her death was terrifying in
The midst of tears and anguish they prompted the Aeolian harp to play they brought her home
To this historical place that became so much more rich and sacred when they lay her in the
Cemetery it came as a rush it over powered my emotions in my mind I saw her waiting for that
Great call the dead in Christ will rise first and meet him in the clouds of glory then those still are
Living will be caught away with him this young heartbroken father and mother with
Out hesitation or actuation by faith and trust they continued and shortly thereafter they started
And completed a larger church the richness of the harp reached across the lost community
Families in peril confused and lost had their ears and hearts opened by the lives of these
Faithful Parents it’s not just about making heaven but look around you at the great and terrible
Day of Judgment the great white throne and He who sets there once the savoir now the judge
Of the world you have others standing there with you as you look at them you can’t help to
Look Beyond His great light and see out in the darkness the deadly silent crying trembling lost
That no one reached or worse they wouldn’t listen the next story of the harp is about Frank
Bartleman the great man God used to bring modern Pentecost to America through the gate of
Azusa St Los Angels he arrived in Los Angeles with his wife and two young daughters December
22 January his oldest daughter three year old Easter was seized with convulsions and passed
Away he echoed the word from Ester little Queen Ester seemed to have been born for a time such
As this Esther 4:14 “Beside that little coffin with heart bleeding I pledged my life anew for God’s
Work In the presence of death how real eternal issues become of all the music LA has produced
None comes close to the sounds made by the Aeolian harp that day all the days since and all
The Souls whose shouts resounded then and now what joy bells are ringing throughout the
Years you read this the harp cuts thorough every excuse every denial we make when His love is
Calling over pastoral fields over head white clouds azure blue sky a single white dove the son of
Man personally calls to you I love you you’re missing so much following the false and deadly
Trends of this world come let me pull you close your land a waste land of just material things in
My presence unquestioned exception hurts carried for years will be healed only as a father can
Do your guilt will be forever cast away moral purity that your soul cries for will be heaped in
Your life no longer dark shadows that haunt but real true life that satisfies to the uttermost it
Will heal bring new understanding addictions are flimsy bindings that hold only because you
Seek all things that are rooted in disfavor my favor knows no bounds and you will be free I will
Breathe my spirit and you will know the Aeolian harp tunes and breathtaking wonder will swirl
Through your mind heart and spirit Heaven will displace the black strangle hold of this world
Centered anew the rays of the cross and my love breaks every yoke true freedom is yours for
time and eternity

She stepped out
One foot at a time
Steam rolling out from behind her
Beams of fluorescent light spearing through
Only to amplify her presence
She was wrapped in a white towel
Held up delicately by her *******
Silhouetting her waist, her thighs
My personal goddess, I thought
And so she left behind these little footprints
For me to hop in with yellow galoshes
Dancing in the fog of our love

Rain down on me

Afternoon light cascades onto ocean skin ,
momentarily turning the water a fine gold shimmer -
light dances merrily , shifting as the plane turns southwards - Equator barrier broken

Welcome to the Southern Hemisphere !

Cloud islands mirror
ground islands .

Puff ***** create architectural feats not known to humanity.  
Flowing with the wind , creating substance out of thin air
the ultimate magicians trick ,
Above , thin wisps of stratus clouds brushstrokes seamless onto sky glaringly iridescent and soft all at once.....hey look! ..... way out in the distance , towering cumulus on their way to becoming cumulonimbus thunderstorms , steady growth of stacks even out when a cold air bank has been reached....the sky writes love letters to the earth

in his cloud postcard snapshots , yet - it is a serenade from them both

Earth offers the waters , the dust needed for the molecules to bind together -  sky transmutes them in his belly - with shifting winds and earth curvature the color palate spectrum .

the offspring , playing in between two worlds
belonging to no one arriving and departing , shape shifters

whole landscapes whirling in amongst themselves , remain unseen,  save for the few souls in tin machines hurtling along in the presence of natures finest high sky views.

Azure crisscrossed with opaque whites and rapidly turning dusk eggplant purples , wild and free form mingle with voluptuous orange streams of liquid light , hiding in the shadows the ‘day’ comes to an end ...

Does natures delicate hands sculpt the static water molecules knowing that there is beauty there ,


i have yet to fathom how such a gracious glory goes un noticed by many ,

luckily , for us , as we destroy every other aspect of earths eco system - the bold sky still remains ,

In the city doldrums and slums high rises
or slums on ground
or mansion view

the sky still bears dow the art works of sunset and rise ,
of cloud shifters and shapers , movers and shakers
still offers a connection to natures heart to remind us , of the magnificence that is our world. That is our home,

although - i have been told - under the surface or in this case , above the surface , here too has been attacked , pumping deadly toxic fumes into water ways
and lung ways

knowing all the whilst that this will do more harm than good

and here is where i , still struggle - i’m writing this on the plane -

a carbon dioxide emitting , fossil fuel guzzling , corporate ******* of a business .

but i need to get places , and go long distances in the shortest amount of time possible ..

Their name is not Trish,
they are not blonde but gray,
                                                 not from age, but the contents,
they do not elevate, or leap from
the third rope of a wrestling ring,
                                                but they drop on you a million
drops of rain, from low levels,
drops that find their way into
                                                 the lowest part of your shoes,
and not into your heart,
the drops tap dance across
                                              your umbrella until the clouds
lift and go away by tricking
the wind to carry them away,
                                           to dampen spirits of others, to their dismay
unless they are human sponges. ( Important but rarely seen part of the
water cycle)

My mind is foggy
Though I'm not groggy
A mist emerges
My peace it purges
I see contradictions
And feel convictions
That inflict conflict
And indict convicts
So I accumulate cumulus clouds accordingly
To fog my marshy mind more horribly
My brain becomes a banshee
And screams from my mist
She shrieks an awful list
Of everything wrong
And everyone gone
Her voice blasts through my cerebral stratus clouds
And her voice echoes within the silent static crowd
The clouds I gathered to block her wailing
Are completely empty and always failing
They look so absolutely grand and solid in the sky
They're just water vapor that form droplets in my eyes

I don't know how anyone would feel about this.
I bet they would stop reading me if I do this.
But this is one of the things that I really love.
And I'd be able to write about it for hours.
So if you are a wrestling fan, then keep reading.
If you're not, the you might wanna stop.

Alright, if you are still reading this, thank you.
Now I can get started and tell you what I know.
I know what a bunch of the moves are called.
And I can tell you who my favorite wrestlers are.
I can even tell you what my favorite storylines are.
I have a variety of wrestlers that I like to watch.
There are some that I don't, but I like the music.
You know, the music they use when they come out.
Anyway, the wrestlers that I like to watch are:
Jeff Hardy, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, John Cena,
The Bella Twins, Kelly Kelly, Mickey James, AJ Lee,
The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Santino Marella,
Trish Stratus, and Brie Bella (on her own).
I love these wrestlers for a lot of reasons.
And if you want, I'll make a separate thing for each.
Just like this if you want me to, and I will.
Anyway, the wrestlers that I like the music to are:
Randy Orton, Edge, RVD, Christian, Eve Torres,
Brie Bella, Trish Stratus, The Rock, Jeff Hardy,
Kelly Kelly, Shawn Michaels,  and Mickie James.
Alright. the names are practically the same.
But that's because the music is very catchy.
My favorite storylines are the following:
Shawn Michaels and JBL (late 08 - early 09)
Brie and Nikki Bella (Happening right now)
Jeff and Matt Hardy (2009)
Shawn Michaels and Chris Jericho (2008)
Triple H and Randy Orton (Mid 2009)
The Rock and CM Punk (2012)
Jeff Hardy and CM Punk (2010)
And I'm sure that there are more.
I just can't recall them at the moment.
But I think that this will do for now.
I hope you liked this.
Please give it a like you want me to get
into more detail about the wrestlers.
And if you want me to get into more
detail about the storylines.

Life is equally as beautiful
as it is ugly

equally as cold
as it is warm

live and learn
to find the bright side

into this pink grist
run mercury brooks
from the tower of liana
and ruptured mist
pools an ovarian sky
barefoot through milky way city
above strawberry ice cream lane
stratus clouds scale the ruins
and
the maraschino cherries ******* rain

Made by: David Bremner & I

  A single cloud crosses the sky,
From the ground I watch it go by,
Holding rain up in the air,
Above my world on a day so fair,

we’re looking up on the clouds,
watching as they change shape an take forms,
in the sky we look as time passes by,
the weather changes an drifts off to explore


Happy clouds, quiet clouds,
relaxed, not moving clouds.
No place like home clouds,
Glad to be here clouds,
Bathed in sunshine,
clouds I want to see.

I see another world in the clouds,
My creative flow is endless,
that is the best part of this,
Even where you are, if miles away,
you could still share the clouds
like im with you, from far away,

The clouds unite us across the sea,
Their presence fills my heart with glee,
When I see them they fill your mind,
with thoughts of you that are so kind,

clouds remind us of words spoken to another person,
a sound with a meaning, a meaning taken to heart..
Like a thought bubble they appear in the sky,
in different colors of black, grey an white.

Dark clouds roll over, Fluffy blooming mass,
changes to light, an turns clear of rain,
holding clouds that serve purpose
all mean one thing or another...


Morphing Shapes to beings encompass the sky
that hovers above us, when we look in the air..

holding clouds that serve purpose
all mean one thing or another,
all clouds with shapes an colors,
all high or low or even in the middle,
a sky of mystery the clouds will disguise.

cumulus, stratus, cirrus an nimbus an much more
you'll find out if you surf the sky's.

The nightfall smears a biding shade and plume
as Nyx complexed the clear diurnal day
and skews the stoic lensing out of gloom
alike the hearted Eros, wrought his sway.

How still the specks of frost on balm and reed
like stars arranged in view for crystal eyes,
and glazed upon the tips; a sweetened mead
which lovers strive in truthful, purple prize.

A sullen stratus coats the idle orb
succumbs the amber beams to patchy lure,
and from within uncertain skies absorb
a kindred duel; dreamers must endure.

Tonight, the morrow, all thereon to be
to ardors flux; at night is when to see.

Cinematic
Friends that I get tats with.
The catastrophic
love affairs
that seem so charismatic.

We are the characters in the attic.
The Anne Frank
of the stratus.

the
Sarcastic,
******* children of all these older kids,
that's it!

And that's okay
with us.
The black of day's
a must.
The hack upraises us until we feel so
ill-discussed.

Don't look at me on the Subway,
because these eyes can't handle others.
Like a book
without
a cover, we are
Eve & Adam smothered.

A lost and thirsty wanderer
          sought oasis on a parched and dusty plain
                   where spectral mesas
                merged with pastel stratus clouds -
            quivering in the summer sun.

                    A slender blue ellipse emerged
                            along the horizon's edge,
                          taunting the traveler’s arid throat.

                    Recalling child-day afternoons.
                         splashing in the pond behind the barn,
                              his legs urged toward aquatic deliverance.

                                       But knowledge seized his boots.
                                   Wary of loving a delusion,
                               he chose instead to seek a road or farm
                           or chance upon a horse-backed rancher
                                tracking down an errant calf.

                                       Still he looked back to his phantom pond  –
                                             never to know if an oasis flowed
                                                   less than an hour’s walk away.


                               December, 2018

tried and true,
this pain is not new,
I welcome it like a friend,

I seem to know,
but never show,
the cognizance of my own end.

kicking and screaming,
the sun stops gleaming,
but i know of the ocean's fare.

the lighthouse is dying,
the stratus are crying,
I am stripped down and left to bare.

bandage to wound,
with red seeping through,
I stand on broken toes.

but no one is there,
not a sound in the air,
and I remain alone with only my woes.

as they
shuffled by
she told her friend
“i always look
forward to this
time of year
when the first
tinge of yellow
touches the leaves
with the contrast
between shade
and sunshine
a comparison
of polar opposites
where a gentle breeze
can chill
or relieve
one making you
appreciate the other
once it has gone”
i couldn’t help
but take note
of her poetic words
as i surveyed
those same trees
glad to see
swaying hues
of green against
shadow-dappled green
feeling fingers
of sunlight
still breaching
filigree tree-shadows
to warm the skin
of passers-by
while overhead
a pastel blue sky
mottled with only
staccato wisps
of gentle stratus
paint the vista
leaving thoughts
of the days to come
when this spectrum
will shift
and these colours
must change

I met her in a line
for expensive coffee
picked by honest hands
she wore a scarf
from morocco where she
had never been or smelled
she says her name as if
her mind were elsewhere
so I smile and nod and turn
and look at the ground
thinking of pink stratus clouds

so I am writing you
something breezy
to make you think

of a kite on a string

reaching
for the stratus
and

swaying and  gliding
rhythmically

like one partner
in a ballroom dance

as it soars
higher and higher
on its journey

I'm in the habit
of thinking bad
and feeling sad
and wishing I had
all these things
owned by the likes of kings
years marked by tree rings

I'm in the habit
of being lazy
no sleep I feel hazy
can't control my emotions-I'm going crazy
breaking smashing going insane
because I'm angry in the brain
obsessed with the idea of fame

I'm in the habit
of eating junk
trying to stay calm as a monk
Hiding knives in a trunk
because childhood nightmares
keep sending these flares
to open a door nobody dares

I'm in the habit
of being jealous
thinking I'm Wiccan worshipping tellus
but I haven't the energy to be zealous
straight jacket
maybe rabid
what's that racket


I'm in the habit
of forming habits
and ticks and quirks
wishing I could leave the stratus
busy wondering if I should
but it does me no good
picking up fragments
should I sew or stitch
confused from the start
outcast built of wood like a witch
these habits
set fire to my wooden heart

I am walking
Again
Gently sloping two-lane highway
Graying asphalt with faded yellow lines
Curving
Curving into the
Distance
I feel it, this moving space
Endless promise
Stretching out extending
Air
Snaps cool
Against my face
Against chromium green bristling pines
A stand selling apples
McIntosh apples glowing knifesharp
Reddish-green skins
Apples piled high in heaps
Jumbled against rough wooden boards I buy
Brown paper bag of them
Get one out, rub
It clean on my shirt
Bite thin
Taut skin splits
Peels I taste
Acid pineapple flesh breaks
Tender white
Sky, a light slate grey sky covered
With high stratus clouds
And
I am sixteen
Again
Walking along
Empty road, eating apples
Heart lifted
With independence
By being out
Out
Sheltered
Under these endless
Dark pines and
The spreading
The deepening sky.

latin can not describe the electricityof blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing upon the banks of my shoulders likethe white-gold sunshinethat would prism behind your chinook archwith all the beauty of a nuclear winter.for the transplant of my frontal lobeto the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructionshave been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am toone, stand very stilltwo, present my brain to the skyand three,wait for the apricotsof sunrise to settleinto the overcast of his eyes.i practise a little and wish i had a veinous hum, skepticalthat an electrocardiogram could detect a beat.

1.  Understand Weather.

(Strangers on a bench,
Looking up.)

“Cirrus, I think.
Cirrocumulus?”
“Stratus surely.
Or altocumulus.”

(You must also hate the cold
And the sun,
And always wish the current season
Was a different one.)


2. Never Be Honest About Stuff That Hurts.

Pain so bad
Can’t even **** –
“How are you, Arthur?”
“Brilliant, thanks!”

3. Have An Opinion On These People

Katie Price (Feminist? Witch?)
Kate Moss (Goddess? *****?)
Stephen Fry (Snob? Wilde?)
Frankie Boyle (Offensive? Mild?)

4. Never Talk About Money.

“So.” An American asks. “How much do ya make?”
“I…I…Oh My God look at that dog over there that has a face like a pancake!”

5. Learn How To Apply The Class System To Cigarettes.

Pipe – Monty Withnail
Silk Cut – Comfortably Middle.
Lucky Strikes – Probably not British.
B&H; – Shops at Lidl.

6. Secretly (Or Openly) Enjoy The Royal Family

“So, did you hear what they called the baby?”
My boyfriend shrugs and says -
“I don’t give one tiny ****.”
“They named him George. Isn’t that twee?”
“Aw ******* hell, I had a tenner on Louis!”

7. Hey Jude.

If all else fails,
At the end of the night,
Sing na-na-na
And it’ll be alright.

8. Never Complain About Your Meal

“Hm. These mussels look a bit suspect.”
“How’s your meal, Sir?”
“Perfect!”

9. Always Hate The French, (Even If Your Own Mother Is French)

Numberplate 'F'
On an articulated lorry.
“Stuck up…onion…*******.”
(I’m sorry mum, I’m so sorry!)

10. ‘Jerusalem’

Mime a sword in your hand,
Bang your chest with devotion,
Wave the sword about,
Sing with emotion.

The suit in question
Is grey. Pin-striped white.
Double-breasted. Three piece.
Blue tie, grey hatching.
An absolute nightmare to change into.

I drop my jeans
In the monastery stall,
Shed my shoes.
Old friends.
The trousers, slacks,
Rise morning fog
And sleep in the stratus
Of my waist.

I really wonder how
The men of the then
Could have worn them.
So much taller.
So much grander.
So much straighter.

White shirt with
The butterfly tracks,
Make-up stains
From a billion ancestors.
Dead relatives that don’t
Respond to the call.
I take their places
Without a single
Crumb of guilt,
O feel the guilt.
The vest. Easy enough.
Yeast but grey and it
Rises horizontally.
I’ve just noticed pockets
Sewn into maddening teases.
The barest suggestion
Of an opening.
It holds like the bowl of the moon.

The coat. The great monarch.
Organizer with a clipboard
Ensuring the quality
Of a burlesque of silk.
So strange.
So other.
So queer.

In a minute or two, the
Hyperhydrosis.
It really is my only hope
Of describing my true temperature.
I will ignite in a biological
Soliloquy that can
Pronounce all those tricky
Thoughts I’ve given up
For the stage.
Gentle gravity,
Cruel crushing backhand.
Burst my complexion,
Steal my aqueous words.

Again, this suit.
How many Lomans,
Bankers, adjudicators,
Businessmen and Babbits
Have lived out their deaths
In you?
Brave rain cloud,
Where is your lining?
I feel the quip swelling
And project it to the back wall:

Only the costume knows true reincarnation.

When I was seventeen
I did a dangerous thing:

Rung by rung, I rose
into forbidden space,
climbing as an insect
would along a slender
blade of wiregrass.

At the top of the tower
I settled into thin stratus.

I took in my home town,
insignificant and benign:
car headlights sliding
on roads to park below
neon drugstore signs,
yellow house windows
and amber streetlights—
whole neighborhoods
stretched out like fields
lit by electric flowers.

I’m sure I saw the glowing
orange tip of the cigarette
my girlfriend was smoking,
rocking herself away from me
on her metal front porch swing.

While I cowered
there in that aerie,
the air reeked of rain,
smoke, and despair.
I remember my heart,
syncopated and suffering;
how it pulsed beneath
a scaffolding of bones—
a buried, burning flare.

Reminding, rewinding, removing, regretting
Tears blind eyes in corneas, splintering spliced sight
There is no world where I can't stop forgetting.
I have a picture of you, watching the sunrise
stratus clouds stretched along the gold blanket of sky
the waves before you striking the dock gently.
I can't find myself behind the camera,
Remembering my thoughts as I snapped
the shutter. I forget.
I go through my own ocean
where I am tossed between wanting to be shipwrecked for good
or rescued by you. I want to either let you go entirely,
or keep hanging on. But I am gripping a rope on its last thread.
I know you have already let go. I haven't. I don't think I will.

Parsed upon a river bank
the north shore
as the confluence
gathers and flows...
swift as the Stratus clouds above
I attempt to find the meaning
of everything
Just one of those lazy
summer day
with time on my hands
speculation abounds
as my INTERJECTIONS
ring true in my head
I surmise nothing
yet proclaim to the
realization
that
nothing
will ever be the same
we move forward
we grow and learn
that is the extreme constant
Rolling with the punches
will lessen the burden
of changing times
We have no choice but
to adapt
or be left behind
See clear the way
of your short life
cherish it
live it
and
love it.

To lay under a sky so blue,
Watch the clouds stroll on by.
A dog,
A horse,
Cumulus,
Or stratus.
Waiting on the sunset,
As the fluffy white monsters absorb the colors.
Radiant reds,
Or subtle pinks.
Troubles all washed away,
Laying under the sky.

Me and mine inamorata shalt travel to the nine known planet's of the earth's solar system.........

See me and her born on different places, she was born on the crescent moon between a thousand or more ages,as tis I was birthed in a place not yet discovered by mere creature's in the milky way galaxy's center hole......as tis I spent much time on Saturn as well, as also I sat and watched comet's maketh love whilst on top of mine Libra scale's....... Each side of mine horoscopal scale I couldst seeith the good and bad of the universe how God balanced out all....... Me and mi amour' met somewhere in the middle of all this creational love making,. So we ventured into planet Pluto, the ninth from the sun, cold rocky and yet we succumbed to the little hidden caves wherein we madeth graffiti on its slate, writing ourn names ( King, and queen of old) as tis we were relic soul's.....than we flew off to planet Neptune discovered in 1846 by mere human's though it's whirlwind's tried to subdue us, yet me and her's wings overcame that ( Roman God of water)....After we were done ice searching there we went on to Uranus, the seventh planet from the sun, it has methane to cover it's surface, just found by human's in 1781, previously thought by man to be a star, on one side its heated by the hot star for over eighty-four life years, so we couldst not stayeth on one side for to long, me and mi amour's wings would be crisp..... So next we went onto planet number six (Saturn) mine favorite planet of this solar system, as tis I wanted to give mine amare all the ring's of the planet to taketh them and put one of them on her finger, she was amazed by mine love and dedication to her, Though as we all know those rings art far to big.. Though we broke into Saturn as its helium stratus filled ourn lungs, we giggled and chuckled, laughing so high we stumbled on ourn own love....such a beautiful laugh she doth haveth... We left that laugh box of a place and moved onto The fifth planet Jupiter, mine mother's own planet by birth and astrology, it was a huge planet with many moons, as mi amour' sure loveth her moon's... She danced upon the moon's like an old muse turning 3 again, as tis I was high off the helium that hast entered me with no end. For this planets helium overtook me in a fancy sense... Laughing I couldn't stop as mine lover had to taketh me away from that large ball... Than we journeyed onto planet mars (number four from the sun..) A place mankind hath been fascinated with from long ago...me and mine sweetheart couldst smell its iron blood smell that giveth this planet its cruor deserted look.... Storms were on its dreary horizon, as tis we saweth old pyramids, similar to the Egyptian ones back on the human planet earth, we noticed such similarities between the two planet's, yet it seemed as any being's here just packed up and left everything to go to hell, yet funny part is, humans haven't left their planet, they still art there letting it go to hell by their own means, and purposely, what foolishness.... So as Mars swirling storms started dragging on in, mine amare saved me from the funnel and pulled me by her appendage away from that thing.... Moving onto planet number three from the sun ( earth) as thou all shalt know it as... See, me and mi amour' cometh here time to time by choice to showeth human being's the meaning of ( amour') other times we art forced here by God, I like to think to learn from ourn mistakes, but me and her always meet no matter how long we must wait for another. And no matter how far the distance ... Anyways, here on this lifeful planet, me and her discovered the most beautiful things of the solar system, that's what makes earth so grand.... The mountains, seas, creature's, human being's, poet's, artists, musicians, animals, trees, and her favorite part is......... Seeing the earth's moon standing next to her favorite quarry in her favorite spot....it melts mine heart just to seeith her smile... Knowing though me and her don't belong to this place, I shalt cometh back more just to see her watch her moon... That's heaven seeing her happy to me... So when leaving we moved onto Venus the second from the sun, considered the ( Roman goddess of love and beauty) its pressure is to strong so it wouldst crush us... So we just floated above it to see it was alot like earth, same structure and size... We didint stay there long.. Me moved onto Mercury, closest planet to the human sun. Mercury hath no atmosphere, so though me and mi amour' art not all human, but spiritual beings to, we couldst still land on the planet ... Though it's rocks that always belted it we hadst to watcheth for.... The planet looked in a way like earth's moon... A dangerous place to be . So we escorted eachother off... Though to scientist beings back on planet earth only nine planets art considered to be in this solar system, yet fully they art finding now there couldst be really thirteen and possibly more to be discovered.... But me and mi amour' left this solar system to travel other's... We went to ourn own made just for the two of us ..... It's title and name is ( Mi amour' X) a place  God made for just me and her .. Only me and her know wherein its at.. See , thou wouldst haveth to go through the middle of thy own Milky way galaxy to get there....

And that's not possible to humans.....
As tis we must return
To ( Mi amour' X)




©By-Brandon Cory nagley-Lonesome poet's poetry....

The silence of the air is broken
by the stuttering symphony
of the clash of auto and road.
The once clear sky is whisked
with serene stratus formations.

In the valley of southern mountains
Our hearts clasp at the dream of destination.
A flannel-shirted fellow
sighs in his lullabies,
and hiking boot clad feet
patter at the wisp of his slumber.
Her sunny smile glitters
in spite of the looming,
grey peaks.

Simple joys of friends
and serenity
Paint our spring adventure

respite from the rain
gloomy monday morning blahs
a grayness pervades
stratus covers mountain tops
another storm is brewing

off in the distance
beyond the metro-skyline
beyond the tree line
a break opens in cloud's veil
a pulling of the curtain

in one little spot
a window of horizon
snow and ice shine through
blinding white titanium
on sparkling powdery peaks

rush hour traffic
along my morning commute
through city's drabness
an eye opening vista
of nature's magnificence


Del Maximo
(c) January 24, 2010

Look back on that mistake

You know the one

The one that makes you lie awake

The stratus that dims your sun



I know you think about that day

The things you would have changed

And that all the paths you could have strayed

Were all within your range



You can play it bit by bit by bit

And lead it to today

The thought of it might make you grit

That your slip still makes you pay



How could just one tiny lapse

Have lead you so off track

It’s hard to say, but just perhaps

A tiny shift could bring you back



If a butterfly can flap its wings

And cause a mighty storm

Then maybe just a little thing

Could bring a better norm



Life can change with just one act

We know already, this is fact

Imagine where your life could be

                                   If one more time, you switched the track

heaven! heaven! far too long
    have we forgotten to
whisper white clouds
                        into existence, the wavering
uncertainty of birds
    made into rote algorithms;
    the unnerving way that
lungs fill can
                 begin to unravel the yarn
that wraps around the trees
                 and trees
        are nothing too special -- i'd say

stratus (stratus
(cumulonimbus)
) infinity
at stake:
        streaks
(oh there's my
    soul somewhere
amid the pneumatics)

It hit me harder than a freight train, so overwhelmed I forget to breathe. My eyes open up.
The clouds have a glaze that for lack of a better word I must call heavenly. they expand and overlap to the end of the earth like a highway for our intellectual being. The sun is protruding but just in a slit. The bugs will crawl, don't forget they exist. I'm at one with the rocks, cactus and trees. Each cactus has eyes visible from far away. Black and purple with an LED tint. The cactus army surrounds us with their many sets of arms and agrees upon our passage. Stratus clouds to the west open up in 3D, a spiral wave leads into a tunnel. If you want to know what's on the other side you've got to go up there. The taste in my mouth is a little hard to stand. Water, i drink it down. A fifteen minute pow wow. The people were laughing, some had bikes. The bugs keep on moving and this stick is so **** soft. The clouds dance to the music just as fast as clouds can while we all worship the sun. The trees became mobile; visiting other homes as if time were elapsed Millions of years condensed into a matter of seconds. The clouds aren't the same. The bugs take a break from crawling i can hear them all laugh. I remember i can stand, stand so tall there's a world behind us, beyond that rocky wall. It's similar but different. The clouds are not the same.