"telleth" 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
Nodding, nodding 'pon thy stem,
Thou bloom o' morn; nodding, nodding
To the bees, asearch o' honey's sweet.
Wilt thou to droop, and wilt the dance o' thee
To vanish with the going o' the day?
Hath the tearing o' the air o' thy sharped thorn
Sent musics up unto the bright,
Or doth thy dance to mean anaught
Save breeze-kiss 'pon thy bloom?
Hath yonder songster harked to thee,
And doth he sing thy love? Or hath he tuned
His song of world's wailing o' the day?
Doth mom shew thee naught save thy garden's wall,
That shutteth thee away, a treasure o' thy day?
Doth yonder hum then spell anaught,
Save whirring o' the wing that hovereth
O'er thy bud to sup the sweet?
Ah, garden's deep, afulled o' fairie's word,
And creeped o’er with winged mites, where but
The raindrop's patter telleth thee His love—
Doth all this vanish then, at closing o' the day?
Anay. For He hath made a one who seeketh here,
And storeth drops, and song, and hum, and sweets,
And of these weaveth garland for the earth.
From off his lute doth drip the day of Him!
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The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn’s undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.
O man! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way,
And the billows of clouds that around thee roll
Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day,
Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free
To the universe of destiny.
This world is the nurse of all we know,
This world is the mother of all we feel,
And the coming of death is a fearful blow
To a brain unencompass’d by nerves of steel:
When all that we know, or feel, or see,
Shall pass like an unreal mystery.
The secret things of the grave are there,
Where all but this frame must surely be,
Though the fine-wrought eye and the wondrous ear
No longer will live, to hear or to see
All that is great and all that is strange
In the boundless realm of unending change.
Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death?
Who lifteth the veil of what is to come?
Who painteth the shadows that are beneath
The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb?
Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be
With the fears and the love for that which we see?
2.5k
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
ojos de Angel
Thy dress is quite seen, thy vocabulary to me reads
The word's of a queen.......
mo chuisle
Thy feet art tired from work
Relax, let mine finger's exhort, pressing and caressing softly to thy skin.....
buah hatiku
For thee I write ancient poems and haiku's
Doth thou not seeith thou art mine muse, and law giver to me?
sirenita
I've traveled for thee from afar
I giveth mine courtship to thee, and heart
For though distance doth not keep us apart,
Distance is but a word
As mineself I canst maketh it all real...
Just telleth me,
When thou art up for a real call
A real visit
And everything to be....
For I'd giveth all for thou
Mine reina
Mine everything....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa angelica dedication
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
i.
Tommorrow
O' tommorrow;
Bringeth me closer to mine love.
ii.
Tommorrow
O' tommorrow;
Telleth Jane I'll be looking from above.
iii.
Tonight
O tonight;
I prayeth to seeith mine empress in mine sleep.
iv.
Tonight
Wherein it's mine soul;
She doth keep.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
i.
Skaidrum, we art lost in the whirlpool galaxy
Thou art far-flung from thy king, me from mine queen;
We hath not much time to get back to planet earth
A black holes in the distance, a new star's birth.
ii.
Skaidrum, friend; no sunlight is to surround us
This place is dusk, how I misseth mine sweet jane;
We hath enough food for a week, and one day's gain
If I were thou, I'd telleth thy king thou loveth him again.
iii.
Mine lass wilt be looking for me, how cold I feeleth
In this spaceship were in, I need Jane's warmth, her tint;
Skaidrum, the nebula's art all around, though no portal to get back home, I prayeth we seeith ourn love's soon.
iv.
Dear Poet, Sir Brandon, Sharpen thy tongue for war
Vigilant stars harbor no pity for separated lovers liketh us,
Lady Jane's lamentation becomes mournful gravity to thee;
Darkness swallows the four corners of mine heart.
v.
Pay no heed to the distances, death; how certainly welcome
As we rideth greek constellations, legends, and vagabonds.
I will bid thou safe travels, poetic wishes, universal footprints;
As thee descend upon the sky ladder to thou's lover.
vi.
I shall followeth in due time, I hear not mine king calling.
Patience goes hand n' hand with deliverance,
In our path of starlit misery; we embarked together as poets
Adieu for now sir Brandon, part with nightsong wings.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets Poetry
©Duo poem by me brandon nagley and Skaidrum
©Skaidrum
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
Mankind destroyeth another
Predicted long ago;
Mankind killeth sister and brother
Predicted long ago;
Mankind plundereth the earth
Predicted long ago;
Mankind eliminates the newborn
Stained blood upon church snow;
Mankind terminates with weapon's
Predicted long ago;
Mankind to God they get angry and question
Predicted long ago;
Mankind escapeth with addiction
Predicted long ago;
Truth bringer's sit in prison
Predicted long ago;
Politicians ****** with unlawful invention's
Predicted long ago;
Immoral parading of falsehood
Predicted long ago;
Thugs and dope in the neighborhood's
Predicted long ago;
Earthquake's in diverse places
Predicted long ago;
Mankind changing natural faces
Predicted long ago;
Mankind of their father the devil
Predicted long ago;
Mankind worshipping hell's level
Predicted long ago;
War's and rumour's of war
Predicted long ago;
Syria turning to a ruinous heap
Predicted Isaiah 17:1,
For thou whom don't know.
Murderer's stealeth for keep's
Predicted long ago;
Beast's dressing up as sheep
Predicted long ago;
Hatred from their bellies
They get hired on whom they know.
Dollar bills come to naught
Whilst debt in every abode grows.
Unorthodox affection's
Like bloomed flower's show.
Sign's in the sun and moon
Predicted long ago;
Prophet's telleth truth beyond the tomb
Predicted long ago;
The world is in chaos
Predicted long ago;
Iran joining with Russia
Predicted long ago;
China practicing for war games
Predicted long ago;
Revelation 9:16, nuclear bang,
An Oriental blow;
A false prophet to bring religion's together
Predicted long ago;
With the Antichrist as his helper
Predicted long ago;
Underground shelter's
Where rich men hide their woes.
Whilst some prediction's hath happened already
Predicted long ago;
More art being fulfilled
Predicted long ago;
More to cometh
Predicted long ago;
Soon Christ's light shalt shineth
Predicted long ago;
Every man to bow their feature's
Predicted long ago;
King of king, lord of Lord's
Whom many hath rejected before all they know.
Broken glass in blown out stores
Predicted long ago;
A disappearance of many Christian's(rapture)
Predicted long ago;
World war three
At the step's of thou
And me;
Predicted long ago.......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophecy
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Queen;
This is a gratitude letter, to telleth thee, I'm blessed with thou,
Mine beloved, mine cherub, mine lifeblood;
Mine queen.
Sovereign;
God hath given me a ladder, I've climbed high past upward lantern's, past the entryway of spiritual pattern's;
Mine amour'.
Empress;
Stop thinking that I wilt leaveth, thou art more worthy than thou believeth, don't let the devil to thee deceiveth, this soul to thee I giveth.
Monarch;
On the street's, or in the park, in the shade, day, night and dark, in me thou liveth, in me thou lighteth a spark, forever, eternal.....
Love.............
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
O humanity, thou hath made the foul mouth a normalcy to men to talk to their Queen's, to calleth them slave word's, as if these women art unseen.
O humanity, thou telleth mankind that disgust in magazine's is OK, whilst little boy's calleth little girl's ***** and ****** making thine action's to the devil's way.
O humanity, thou selleth guns and bomb's to eachother, worship dollar Bill's with little faces on them that **** as the green paper's art of greed as so many DIETH for.
O the humanity; thou giveth death by the million's, population control through weather, and war's, thou Selleth blood diamond's, and trade *** to rich men from young girl's.
O humanity, lover's of thineself, don't helpeth noone else, the mall is thine luxury, thy lonesome room is seducing to thee, snorting lines to escape what's to cometh from the sky's.
O mankind, the trumpet's art about to be blown, thou art marrying with other's? And their soul's thou doth not knoweth? Thou giveth charity to nonsense? Yet none to God?
O mankind, none more class, none more slow, everything's fast, driving new age Boxcar's to rusheth to work, to put ten pennies in thy tanks? And thou doth not protest the killing and blood squirt?
O mankind, taketh and receiveth? None giving, noone thou needeth? Thou hath given all the time in the world to thy paperwork, yet none for thy lover's, family, or friend's.
O THE HUMANITY, O THE HUMANITY!!!!!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
If I'm
To dieth today;
Please telleth mine queen Jane
All of mine poem's art right here, displayed on mine page.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:57 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
i.
Mine doting of thou,
Is not wilting amour;
Mine love is more
Then floating, outside
Thy door.
ii.
Even in mine woe,
And caging dolor;
I shouteth thy name,
"Sweet jane' mine girl.
iii.
Whilst even in mine
Suffering, and the
Battle I'm in; with
Satan and his lackey's,
I wilt step upon them.
With thy help, and God's
Discipline, Jane O' Jane,
I'll soareth to the highest
Apex, mine plume's to expand,
Wing's to stretch; Yahweh's mighty
Word, to push them back to the gates of death.
iv.
So mine Jane,
I telleth thou this;
I'm not losing amour,
Nor am I tenderness.
I'm in the stage, of trans-
Figuration, O' soon queen,
We shalt meet in blissfulness,
Beautiful apparition's. Ghost's of
Old, ancient soul's, we'll tasteth
Cascade's of mezmerdade; bralishas
Of barinthia, thitherward the province of
Ourn holy one, next to El Shaddai, meaning
Elohim, also Jehovah, mine Jane and honey-
Bee. Aside the Almighty's throne, And elevated
Seat, his son Jesus Christ on the right- garbed
In robes that floweth with the vim of life. As there
Shalt be none need for the sun or moon, the creator's
Ourn light. A place that's right, wherein there art none wrong's,
Ourn sin's art forgotten within the angelic song's, these song's wilt be sung, on a basis of eternity; none ending, just befriending of the saint's at God's feet. Wisdom shalt be deep, from the beginning of ages, none more false prophet's nor greedy men to ruin the nation's, Concord within ourn Lord shalt follow the month's, as Jane, mine swain, it wilt be in this time's happening;
It's still thee I shalt want. So hold on tightly, don't let loose of mine hand, we'll trounce these dark bearers, and pour holy oil upon their head's, None more wilt they torture us, as they'll flee instead, before of ourn Lord, Jesus Christ, the risen, the man, the son of God, ourn protection, whom hath arisen from the dead.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
Verily, she's heaven
Verily, she's earth;
Verily I was born
In her aloe and myrrh.
Verily, she's mine
Verily, I'm her's;
Verily, O' verily
She's mine amour'.
Verily, she's love
Verily, she's life
Verily, I telleth thee
She's mine Jane
Mine wife;
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated - Filipino rose
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
I remember
As a boy,
Being with mine father's mother...
Also known as grandma or ( Golden gram's) nagley...
Having her sit me on her lap
Or alot of times her being mine guide,
Holding mine hand taking me places....
Well
I went and saw mine ( Golden gram's) today
And as I saw her
Oldened in year's,
I saw how much grandma wanted me to go out and see her rose garden out in her back yard....
As she showed me it first in her kitchen window....
I couldst telleth she was dying to go out, like a puppy...
Because looking out the window to see her purple rose,
Wasn't quite the same as being next to it...
And I remembered me being a boy at that moment..
Because grandma nagley wanted to go outside
Because mine father
And auntie was in the basement...
I was there to help her go outside...
To guide her as she used to me as a boy,
So she went looking for her shoes
( here's the part where I remember I used to be the child to her
Now she was to me in a cute way....
She went looking for her shoes
( due to her Alzheimer's)
Couldn't find them...
So I found them for her,
As I saw her struggle to get those shoes on her frail feet.
I told her
( grams)
Let me get those for thee....
I got on mine hand's and knees taking her slippers
Putting them on her feet one by one....
I felt like she used to,
As she used to do that for me...
As I knew she more than appreciated it.
Though I don't expect her to appreciate it...
It's just something a grandson shouldst do without having to think... Because she used to for me without thinking...
So me and her walked outside, I held her hand as she used to do me, as I was a guide for her to her rose garden. Her special place........ She stood by the garden with me showing me her little heaven, and with her still little girl smile, she glanced at me with all the world in mine gram's eye's... And I felt as a baby again, in the comfort of a familiar spirit I kneweth at a young age... As tis a few minutes later mine auntie Sandy told me to taketh her for a walk down the street and back... So I tooketh grandma's hand, as she did me as a boy. And walked down the street to the fire hydrant, and walked on back... And as I looked at her, she still had the ***** of a young teen she once was, though her age hit me when I asked her... If mine uncle hath been over lately... She couldn't remember who mine uncle was... She was just in the moment .. Living, breathing. Yet knowing who I was... How couldst she forget me, golden gram's is one of mine guide's, as I knoweth the next life, ( Golden gram's) wilt be awaiting me,
Wanting to showeth me heavens rose garden....
As tis
Today
Was a precious moment I wouldn't giveth up for nothing!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
Dear grave keeper if today mine heart is to expire
Telleth mine mi amour'
I haveth a hundred more poems for her in the top drawer,
By the Cologne and incense attire...
Dear grave digger if today mine soul doth leave
Please telleth me amare
I was always there
Tis for her in heaven ill be watching
As tis mine love for her wilt forever be...
Dear midnight caretaker if right now mine skin frails
Telleth mine rose
Mine love was unlike any she's known
For she doth knoweth
It was on a different scale.....
Dear mortician if mine eye's do close
Tell her I wanted to marry her
And us to be adorned
In angel form
And black and white robes
Dear undertaker if this is the last time I writeth
Please telleth mine Spanish queen
She was mine dream,
Reality,
Amare
Amour
Mine only girl
Please telleth her sir.....
To meet me again
In that same cloud
The one around her moon...
On cloud number nine
In ourn special room.. .
Canst thou telleth for me sir. ???
Thanks...
Brandon cory nagley .....
© Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Midnight lonesomeness, hath becometh mine best friend
Midnight lonesomeness, verily I telleth thee shalt be mine end....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Some say tis a curse to seeith and heareth things
That other's quote sayeth:
( is not there)
Well God happened to giveth me this foresight
To heareth and feeleth and seeith good and bad spirit's around me....
And trust me,
I got plenty of evidence...
So thine own theory ( they don't exist) oh man
Doesn't fly with me.....
I knew this long ago..
As I must say it was a blessing
Being raised in a family who kneweth God already..
As many don't get that opportunity...
Tis a curse as well with this gift,
Of seeing
Feeling
Knowing
Hearing....
Because with the good still lingering coming in and out....
The little brute Hellion's are quite a hassle.....
They scratch
Get one sick
( physcially) so on every which way....
They'll calleth one out by name
Plenty evidence of that recorded down....
But whilst at the same time
These little brutes hateth when I calleth on God for help
(Fallen angels they are)
As the good angels ( gods) hath always swooped in
Wherein the hellion dissapear.....
Yea,
They know not to mess with one of God's....
And the world will sit there
In human thinking....
And ask themselves,
Why didst man **** another man???
Or why didst he pull the trigger to his temple
Or so on....????
I can telleth thou this oh friend....
As the word goes...
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
As mankind.
Seems to hath forgotten...
Or more than that
Wants to run from its dark truth....
For tis I
Who knoweth better...
For I don't run
No needeth to run
For they always find me due to mine bright aura...
And human kind doth not realize
( other than a few)
That the brighter thy soul is
And more energy and more open thou art...
The more they cometh around.....
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
i.
More than ever
This hour;
Now, mine God
Mine Christ, needeth me.
ii.
More than ever
This time;
I must overcometh Satan
And release the scripture's sign's.
iii.
More than ever
These last day's;
I must telleth other's
Of the world's end, and the hope to makest thou amazed.
iv.
More than ever
Better now, then never;
I shalt bloweth the shofar
Beneath hell, above the star's.
v.
More than ever
This is mine letter;
For thou to awakest
And findeth Christ's salvation, by which thou canst enter.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prohetic poetry
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
The most dim and horrid of all truth's in amour sometimes;
I seeith so many couple's, wherein there's always one lover
Who telleth the other lover " I loveth thee hunny "
And the one who was told their loved,
Replies back " O thank's...............
Such a sad horrid Truth,
Though the one's who told the one's they loveth
That they loveth them and yet got none response
But an ' O thank's, still continueth to loveth that other person
Because that's what true love is............
Yet also, sometime's, the person who sayeth they loveth the other
Some time's wilt just moveth on, from the pain of not ever hearing the same word's and action's back of true amour',
Because fact is, one canst not waisteth time
Giving all their love to one who canst even sayeth it back!!!!
And canst even showeth it back,
Though the person who moved on
Still loveth the other person;
Tis they've realized
Someone else just might sayeth it back
Since the other couldn't say it....
Love is a duo, not a one way street
And if a one way street;
It's not truest amour' on the other person's behalf......
And sadly I seeith this alot to;
That when the person who never saidst those words back
To the one who loveth them
They regret never saying the three word's to the one they do loveth, and they realize at that last moment
How much they loved the other person all along;
Yet were to afraid to sayeth it at the time
Out of fear of being hurt........
Amour's harsh truth sometimes.......
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
Affluent men taketh and foreclose thy dormitory residence
They smirk and grin with their polka dotted ties
They loveth to giveth pain
They laugh to poor man's suicide
They build skyscraper's to thy sky
Metal steel to beam star high
Animal's tis they hunt as trophie's
Whilst African and even American babies art choking
From no food nor water!!!!!!!
They drop acidic gas for slaughter
Whilst putting chemical's in the turf
Slug round's to virginal church
They've scoffed high Jehovah
Made **** their Ponderosa
Wriggling worms
Master artists of DEATH
Selleth thy soul to the world dear reader
And thou shalt taketh thy last breathe
For they've madeth man focus on media ****
****** thee by breast's
They Maketh women a harlot *****
They telleth them what they should be
Giveth them fifty bucks
For girly magazines
But these art the Queen's
That the howler's corrupted their image
Man of no humbling
Devilish scrimmage
As he also maketh men
Robots to his illusion
Giveth him archery
They calleth them soldier brainwashed timid's
They run ourn own weather
( DARPA) run by the government beast
Stick poles in the ground
(Search it in Alaska) thou shalt seeith
Mankind thinks this weather is natural
As natural they tryeth to be
Disillusioned by fact's soon
Their chapter shalt be seen
Their heads will be bowed
Tasting the ash
Their law's of soo called justice
Kiss mine ***
No I don't cuss ( not a cusser honest)
But I'm overboard now
Sick of the molestation of ourn being's, creature's, And GLOBE overflowed!!!!
The blinded eyes
Are woozy by robes
But guess what dearest?
Almost the end of the show.......
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
Saurian Jovian's and Martian's clasp me to catastrophe rubble,
Dusty airpocket's, with blue sky bubble's, I tryeth to reacheth. Whilst their hobnail's art click cackling, mine suffocation is intensified by magnitude; longitude and latitude, distance is cleverly missing, mine red flow rushes, mine heartbeat nudge's; Harmonious harp playing angelic one, Gale's her hail assail into the impenetrable. She's Immortal and invincible; on forearm's, nose to her garb, her bouquet fragrance I canst telleth a lie; got me broiling in mammal wild primal heat.......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
Reyna;
If I dieth in the fire
Tuck me in Corinthian attire;
If mine lung's, shalt faileth and succumb
To the pitch black dusk, wherein their is no sun.
Reyna;
If mine eye's rolleth back
Put oriental pennies on them, to floateth down thy river.
If mine brawn doth frail
Be sure to giveth away mine treasure's.
Giveth charity to the poor man
Underneath I/75 bridge.
Mine spirit shalt be watching over thee
And ourn abode of bliss.
Reyna;
Just in case the morn doth not make it
I just wanted to telleth thee, thou art mine queen, and mine basis.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
i.
A crane cometh around
Down by the superannuated rivulet;
No machinery by this place
Mud bank's, phantom silhouette's.
ii.
I canst sense
The Miami Indians prowling the copse;
Their regard for living was natural
As the new ager's that came after, destroyed the crop's.
iii.
Thou canst seeith the moccasin's
Slithereth down the way;
Their black scale's, telleth tale's
Of a time of freedom's day.
iv.
I goeth down to this old tributary
Whence the land was hunted by bow;
I'm respecting the land, as it shalt be
Not doing as the newbies know.
v.
As the babies groweth, and the ghost's do showeth
The narrative that's meant to be left;
I shalt keepeth the aboriginal modus operandi
And walketh with the spirit's, of this place they hath lent.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
See if one was to seeith mine amare
Reading all the books she readeth
Any human being wouldst asketh,
Why doth she readeth all these books?
Well friend..
I canst telleth thou this..
She's an ser angelical,
She already knoweth heavenly knowledge....
She just likes to learn about the human race....
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC