Kerala, with its blessed beauty of nature, long and silver-haired with colorful clips of fishes and a black mountain cap, standing in a green curly dress full of colorful butterflies and glowing flowers on it, mesmerizing eyes with calm and peaceful nature gifts us a pleasant world.

             In 1975, a new creation of God, his loving child came to this world. I cried as every child does but at the next moment I laughed because I have been born into God’s own country, The Paradise. Thanks to the Almighty for bringing me to this wonderful heaven. Oops! I forgot one special person. Slowly I turn towards that smiling face, the one who is holding me in her hands, my sweet Mother.

            Hi, I am Neha, the blessed child born into a loving and caring family. Our house too was not less than a paradise in a beautiful village which was full of greenery. It was a joint family with grandfather, grandmother, great grandmother, uncles, and aunts and especially with a dozen of cousins! After three years, being blessed with a younger sister.

          I was a shy and reserved character for strangers in the outer world but I was open with my family just because of the serenity they made me feel by giving the freedom to express my feelings and wishes. My childhood days gave me the most memorable and golden moments in my life. It was such great fun! In those days we used to play a lot of outdoor games, going for movies with our granny, fighting with brothers, walking on walls, sitting near the pond and chatting till our granny came running with a bamboo stick, competing with the cuckoo and making it angry and making fun of boys! My cousins and I never missed the regional movies on Doordharshan. I was passionate about listening to music on AIR, writing it down, memorizing it and singing along with the singer. When my mother finds me missing, she comes searching for me without a second thought to catch me red-handed with a radio.

         Then came the tape recorder which made it easier for me to listen to my favorite songs when I wish and record my own sweet voice... (giggling) Actually I love doing intoxicating things and have fun which I shouldn’t being doing! Isn’t it funny? But my grannies were too strict that I had to control all my mischievous behavior and be a very good girl. Got confused? Ha! Ha! There were about four grannies. There was always a unity in our family. I never had the feeling of being without a brother of my own as my cousins who were brothers always made me feel more like their own sister.

        One more thing about me friends, I am a great devotee of Lord Krishna, whom I believe is always with me as a friend, lover and well-wisher. Oh my God! I revealed the secret about my love and lover! Imagining Him as a lover, playing with Him, dancing with Him, enjoying happiness to the fullest with Him was my great dream. Please don’t shake with laughter but I really wish that to happen, a blessing to see the original form with His flute, the sky-blue colored Krishna and experience the love and lust transforming myself to Radha, making it a spiritual affair.

My father, who was a great artist, used to draw Krishna’s pictures especially for me, knowing my crazy love for Him.

            I did my schooling well as a normal child and scored average marks happily!

I felt that I was the luckiest person in this world. (smiling)

            Mmmm. Now it’s time for college. I got admission for BA English Literature, my favorite subject, my passion and one of my dreams.

            One of my cousins (sister) and I joined the college. We were in great excitement and were sure about having great fun because when we both were together, there was no doubt of pleasure and entertainment. Even though I was not so modern I was stylish and became a queen in everyone’s eyes!  We had a great time in college with our friends. There were boyfriends too.

One of our friends, a best friend, Nikhil was so special, caring and loving, always doing something exciting to make me fall hard into laughter.

         Hey! One more secret: I used to feel that I am playing with Krishna as a friend (Remember my wish?  ...LOL)

         Nikhil and I used to fight a lot on different topics but when it’s all over and we got tired, we were back together with more affection and fondness for each other. He was a very comfortable friend with whom I could share any of my feelings and viewpoints straight from the heart.

I was moving forward to the fourth month of my college, September, when the buds of beautiful flower forget-me-not blossom smiled at us.

       In this beautiful month, comes Onam, the day that welcomes the great King, Mahabali to Kerala. It was a month of celebration for me. A pookkalam would be drawn, decorated with different colorful flowers in front of each house till the day of Onam for ten days, which I really enjoyed during the festival.

       Knowing my wish to do this, permitting me to make pookkalam for those ten days.

      I got up early in the morning wandering everywhere to collect flowers from our house and of course our neighbor’s house (giggling).

       After making my art with flowers and admiring myself, I gave a pat on my back mentally as if I have won the first prize for pookkalam. The most interesting thing is, my cute great Grandmother joined me with a no tooth smile (imagine)

I enjoyed my holidays with my family in new clothes and Onam sadhya with my favorite Ada pradhaman ( payasam) ….yummy !!

       During those days there were only landline and it was strictly prohibited for us. Permitted to make only important calls if necessary and only girls could ring us, not boys (how sad, isn’t it?)


                        No mails! No Facebook! No Whatsapp!

      Still it was a great time because we were able to feel moment of celebrations, relationships and perceive the worth of feelings of our dear and near ones. Almost everyone was free of mental and emotional strain in our time. The only reason was many of them were able to solve the complications and pressure of their lives through direct communication, a joint family, a joint society. There was always a lot of helping hands.

         Children enjoyed each others company as they met daily by playing outdoor games, going to school by cycles, walking together and sharing their daily class sessions, their mischievous acts and how were they punished together by their teachers. They even shared their family issues and there was no need of counseling for children at that time.


         I was back to college after the Onam holidays and celebrations. You might be thinking why I didn’t mention about missing my friends and college.

Actually they were in my thoughts but I am the kind of person whose policy is to “Live in the Present” and not spoil the present happiness of oneself and others.


       I am sharing one more secret! I missed a special person among them. Guess who?

You were right! It’s none other than Nikhil, my Krishna.

       Reached college in my caravan, BSA SLR (my cycle) with my cousin sister. All our friends came running towards us and we contributed our love and affection for each other.

I lost my father when I was in college but my uncle never gave me a chance to mourn the loss and stood with me as a pillar filling absence of my father. I always believed that Krishna was with me in all my ups and downs in different forms to support me.

After my father’s death, I decided to take life in a methodical way with my credence in Krishna to overcome the trammels coming on my way.

I accomplished my graduation and joined for post-graduation. You might be wondering why I am not mentioning anything about Nikhil….hmmm….I read your mind….

The truth was that I was totally lost after the death of my father and my full concentration was to complete my graduation well.

        Hey! But his full support made me more ardent and to gain more will-power to face all ups and downs.

        Nikhil completed his B.com and then joined to do CA. As his father got transferred his family relocated to another state. That was a big shock for me but I consoled my mind and heart, requesting them not to make me weak.

Accomplished my post-graduation, did my Teachers Training and I am an English teacher now! Surprised? But happy for me, right?

       One thing friends, till now I have faith and belief in my Krishna.

I know what is going on in your mind. Did Nikhil and I communicate with each other after his father’s transfer? Did we meet again?

After leaving the city, we were in touch for few months till he flew to America.

Slowly I too stopped communicating with him and engaged myself in daily matters and family duties and took care of my mother and sister.

      All my cousins, one by one completed their academics, some got married and settled in their family life. But there was always a get together once in a month. Now my mother wanted me to get married and settled.

      Many alliances came and I was ready to shake my head like a goat to the one which my elders chose for me.

Ha! Ha! Just kidding…. They know what is good and bad for me. Actually that is what I believe.

Hmmm…. Anyway I made one promise to myself that if I give birth to a baby boy, I would surely name him “Nikhil”.

Now I am a wife and a mother of a one and a half-year old boy.

Excuse me, did you ask me something?

Oh! My son’s name?

One second please …. My baby is crying…

Nikhil…….

Please change the baby's diaper !

Silence the wisher;
it would be true magic
if only I could
when World doesn't bring me
what I think it should
and time doesn't heal
the wounds beneath
the smile I wear
or the song I steal
when it just ain't perfect
and there's stuff to fix
and my wicked little Wisher
is in the mix
and my in the moment
can't stay the tide
of the emotion rising
from memories I hide

Silence the Wisher
and set me free
so the way I appear
is the way I BE.

hereunder is served some poetry pouches full of love,
dear reader, stir them as you like,
if you wish you may crack them to pour into mouth,
you may smear them on your body
or you may sprinkle them on the ground
and then chant the name of god
with love and enjoyment

1.
the simplicity that rolls down
from the body of the sweet-meat
made by my mother

let it brings light
to our radish-red love-story

to hear or to notice
love
does not need
putting an ear on the wall
of the wall-street journal

the bottle could be filled
from the voice

when you go to fill the bottle
you would see that everywhere
the arrangement of picnic is ready

when i want to take part in that feast
my neighbours would drive me towards
the home  

although i’ve spent all my life
running behind the love

2.
who’s won the muddy-battle
was yesterday’s politics

my addiction is actually to cater
the pouch of love
to develop all vitamins
and all bathrooms

people say you don’t love
the claps of the rats

yet i’ll come down
from the branch of a guava-tree
as a wave-of-shopping-mall
to the lake of your love

now i’ll jump out
from this computer screen
to register a kiss
on your lips

don't miss to applaud
by clapping the hands


3.
the heart is half-sunk
in the window

to some extent
in the lipstick too

on the dinner-plate
there is the feelings of the lord

that means
i’ve to be burnt more
i do agree

i would become
the sculpture of khajuraho

this happenings may have been
the right search for love

on either-side of which  
a green is being worked out
by the nostalgic-cycle

whose colour-texture is very much harappa
which has too many geometric-memories

4.
an undertone is speaking
from within the solitude

now i’m in very much
distress

or i’m in love

i don’t know my love is what-for
may be that’s an arrangement only

so easily are those interactions
stitched with words

strenuous or effortless
in flight
initiated
with seclusion

but when in the sinking of the playfulness
i  write the games of the street-charmers


the birds again and again
pierce the archery

thus becoming ashes
through travelling

in time-gaps still
the audacity to compose poems
on you

5.
is it true love
or i do take it granted
that i’m in love

or i do love to think
that i’m loving

and there is
neither any welcome address
nor any opening song
in my love

my experience with heat of fire
and with burning pain
in the flames of water
is nothing less

6.
in course of burning
i look around

the chilly-plant  in the tob
planted in my won-hand
producing green-chillies

oh-** how sweet they are

it is no chilled-body
that has earned
my life or death

no remarkable mark
is endorsed
on the lotus-leaf

now easily some words
can be written
on you

i don’t know whether
those would be at all
some lines of a poem


7
someone falls in loves
someone makes love
love comes to some another

there is the far-off
whispering

at first she constructs me
then destroys rightly

i notice her
for the first time in six weeks  

the love
that writes
in the footnote of the tennis-ball
a desperate struggle for existence

within our skull
there is the love

or the midnight of the orion

the little squirrel asked now
are you in your seventies
or eighties

those houses with the coating of
the sky the air the light-and-shade
provide me with the presentation of
a wig and
a set of artificial teeth
8.
the love
that touches the hand
in drizzling

the love
that gets lost in the brandishing
grasses

would they want to inform
that the flowers don’t have any skyscraper

in the layers of the flesh and blood
of the detergents
as if  a whole human civilisation has been suffering
from suppressed pain

within it with the dry spell of
anger and cough
the time

had there been no feeding from the love
does the human civilisation stagger

9.
do you think those words
or it’s myself

whatever may you say now
i’ll travel within a great death
to die

rather after my demise i may tell
i’ve informed everyone …look

beneath the large evergreen flower tree
the game of light and shadow continues

beside those simple households
besides a high-head mobile-tower
what else would you like to be

is it a bath in the ganga-river is it a leaf
of the water-lily or it’s a king-cobra  
tell me

i would now make love
with that idea from you

10.
the  apparent golden *** that i thought
to be the underneath of a kadam-tree

in the dim light i can notice that
the stars in the sky are disappearing  

this session of poetry
is coming to an end

now where would i
go

to that little home

the home
a tiny word of 4 letters

within that home
the children are giggling
playing … and making funs

when i entered
with a tri-cycle in hand
for them

i have been perplexed
many old persons are waiting there
to shake hands with me

10.
almost most of my desires  
are very much hurt

to show it publicly
i wrap bandages
around all over my body

i keep on the stage-drama  

in our programme of reading poetry
tea is served twice
current has gone off for three times
for four times the mobiles ring

to pick up love  
some people think about returning back
from today’s dais to the ancient stage
of performing folk-drama

then they are also sympathetic
to my sufferings

12.
everyday
on my way to return home from the school
when my mom took hold of my hands

i could see in my body
the dancing of an unforgettable
aura

even now that mystical halo is walking
on the leaves of the trees
to fulfil my mornings

that wayfaring along the road
is ringing far and far-off

thus taking bath in every day’s  
dust smoke hue and cry

many such love
gradually gets aged

is it true
in the long run
i too
would be the ingredient
of a fairy-tale

just because i love
that paddy field

some time later
she will also become
human

13.
then she will make all of us  
join her walking

those inmost feeling
those memories meditations

the loneliness  and solitude…

sans the touch of the imagination of
a crater…
a creator…

this blunder…
this socially outcast white …

this type of uneven…
and irrelevance…

sume words
when peep in the mind
i surprise to see that
it’s ten to 2 at night

then in the balcony
my father is crying

he always notices some grave-yard men
in front of him

and sheds tears  

14.
after the dry leaves of the winter
fall in innumerable drops
the spring comes

the cover-face of spring means
a note-book of the rain-tree
letting float in the sun-water

and mr harry says that
this question of change
is a major pull

because all the unreal talks
you are delivering one by one

to keep pace with it
the ambulance comes at 10am
with a stale dead-body

in it’s shirt
is written the spelling of myself

i then sat on the grey volume
of the college-campus

in the front
a beggar from the war of waterloo
is passing by

over the dust of myself
with a faster pace
blowing is the thoughts of

ataraxia  
in the air… and air… and air…
    

15.

if your wishes colour silver
then do return back to the x-mass dancing
of the autumn

sound of whose far-off hoof-steps
digging so much soil of
story-weeds

i went into the nail-polish
with the proof of tea-cup
in my hand

there in the midst of lot of snow-flakes
and in the bed soft with the light of the candle
is now that honey-name more tarnished

now the atomic-howling
does not follow the rules of nature

so the rain-tree that seeks a-field-more-sky
with the hope to become king after the sun-rise

so that king is now waiting
in the grocer’s shop
at a stretch  for an hour

16.
does her well-wisher esse then thinks
to escape from the love-making whirl-wind

on the dry branches of the axis power
the new generation of the birds

rather stop a while there silently and listen
which song is hidden in the bronze-buddha

or in the school of the terracotta-horse

i’m now opening the coating
of the night-enamel to read this home

and behind the coo of dove
is smiling

the god of the penalty-kick

17.
sitting on an orange-coloured balcony
in an outsider lane
the green is writing poems
  
better than the face-powder

from this side all long the famine
i’m the priest of the
agro-based civilisation

still-then i think
why so much light of partiality
is on the body of the chrysanthemum

within the monsoon
in collusion with the  hair-band
now thousands of birds are born  

they can hear my
dry straws and twigs

whose hearing is the police
in so depth of the forest

don’t move the
dreadful resorts

one such photograph of the girls
who wakes up in the midnight

speechless…
unmindful …
destruction…

that is you now

i’m then in the spore
of the perfume-bounded body
of match-making

18.

who has lied in the box
made up of the temperature
of god

all on a sudden
there is a hue and cry
in the abdomen of the time
wearing a ***** pajama

actually that has been filtered up
from the voices of rock-songs

the roaming
of a fatigued traveller …

the lies
within their wishes
write my existence

and then run
to buy vegetables
from the station-market

so many lay-offs
come to the body of paper-weight

to listen to all those
is not improper

walking through the traffic-jam
gradually
this home becomes solely my home

one day the golden of
human

then it is i
who is you

and walking through the
monsoon

on either side of the field
it is all autumn

19.
when borrowing the religion of
the night-queen  
i fall in love

then is it real
that our mangos and jack-fruits  
can make the perfumed-soap
vigorously from the light of the
blood-line

i count the bells of the churches
ringing repeatedly

and piercing the image
of your prominent face

rounding through lots of old
the love becomes exhausted

and the love comes back
in the form of college-classes

there are you myself
and so many notes
of the body

You made a wish
And you told me a secret
That forever changed us.
Then life happened
And you made another wish,
To know me better.
But the thing about wishes
Is that they never come true.

You were the wisher
And the thing about wishes
Is that when you wish on emotions
Everything goes wrong,
And then the magic goes away.
The thing about wishes
Is that you have to give something up
To make these wishes come true.

You were the wisher
And I was a dreamer,
And the difference between us
Is that that dreaming is believing
And wishing is wanting.
Dreams are for the mind,
And wishes are for greed.

I am a dreamer with an imagination
You are a wisher with needs,
I could never fulfill

I am a dreamer
Who's dreams
Didn't need a guy like you

Learn to write again
learn to type right
first time in 3 decades of life

I want to write closer to when I think
speed time, to slow it
make it feel like I do more
like I was in my teens or early twenties
****, these days 3 go by and it feels like one

I count my blessings to build confidence
Life grows more cruel but
I might win if I act like already won
Chaos magick, nay we do not speak of it

You forgot to pretend
to suspend quests for rationality
No longer moved by a book or film
We conditioned to be unconditioned
only to realize we ought to been wistfully in the herd
the whole time  
We're the Bodhisattvas forestalling enlightenment
to get drunk with the butchers
after decades of sober high ground
We're the over-analyzers
lamenting our anachronisms in self-assuring
new philosophies
Either fully embrace one or drop out of being smart at all
the only tolerable choice to start to enjoy life again
No, no it's a false dichotomy
I want to be the eternal well-wisher
no matter the decadent displays

The shared dream of a soon to be future
We scavenge and defend
through pockmarked streets
make shelters amid crumbling concrete
We forgot how to imagine a secure society
Measured expectations and social safety nets
they took it all away along with our balanced serotonin
I used to get all jazzed up over a library book
but now the images promise us much more bliss
right around the corner

But it never soothes
never comes close  
We cannot buy the contentment you claimed to offer
so we'll get it in collapse
We'll be sniped, starved, and deranged
but the thought of that life
makes us whisper excitedly to ourselves
"finally something has happened to me."

I, the eternal well-wisher
will wag no more fingers at preachers of death
Neither will I become them nor pity them

I will call you
And tell you
I love you
Not after when the train comes
Or after when the streets lights turn red
But after I’m done
Finding pennies in
Precarious places
I will call you
With my lips chipping
Like sugar on a glazed donut
My forehead a red neon sign
Flashing Day Dreams

I will call you
When the earth binges on ice cream
She’s trying to form new oceans again,
Trying to get back what the sun took
From her
I will come, harnessing the speed of light
With sun rays for arms;
Lightning in my heart
And oak trees sprouting from my head
And you’ll know
That I was trying my best to find
You in places that existed
When we were younger but no longer
Now that we aren’t

I will hand you all the pennies
I find and though there’s not many,
There’s enough
Because theses—
Are for the wishers
The people who stare at the distant suns
And get nothing back but a wink
For the pessimists who keep trying
To see the glass sideways
And for the earth that keeps fighting
For the right days
Give them two
And tell them all to wait for me
By the nearest pay phone—

I'm the strange bursts of color you see with eyes closed trying to rub away the sleep.
I'm the rattling of the drawer. That old glass pill bottle full of baby teeth mom saved.
I'm the moss covered tilted grave. The one you can no longer read.
I'm the realization "ohmygodthat'sme".

I'm strong.
I am.
I'm willing to show you.

I'm a juxtaposition. An old soul mid cartwheel.

I'm a lover.
I'm a dream climber. A star wisher.

I'm as cheesy as the moon.
I'm crazy and woo woo.
I'm always on the move.

I'm the product.
I'm the salesman.
I'm afraid.

I'm careful.
I'm stubborn.
I'm brave.

I'm extreme.
I'm full of ready tears.
I'm full of ****.
I'm a broken record. Steady streaming of these feelings.

I'm a candid photograph. A fleeting moment that can live again.
I'm always hungry for positivity.
I'm fed up with proud ignorance.

I'm haunted by my purpose.
I'm trying to make a difference.

I am part of everything.

I'm a woman.
I'm a man.

I am.
I am.
I am.

E.Poe
*Nov 2013

She is an empress, goddess of the river
Weeping willows shade her, the life giver
We must praise her, and her gentle rapids
He is a lost and confused soul in labyrinth
She was his empress, his goddess of the river

His hair fluttered in the wind, the rhythm of the world
Her eyes shimmering in the sun set on the one she knows as the one
Her well-wisher, worthy fisherman
He wants to swim in her currents and he can
For he is the river goddess’s lover

Her crystal waters wash him
His kisses bring to her face an eternal smile
Her sandy rocky river bed exfoliate his feet
A promise of love they both intend to keep

I can't remember not falling
Swirling lights waver magnificently
Enticing thoughts into a fine mosaic
That you and I no longer hear

Yet, my ears strain for
That ticklish melody
Who held sunrises and sunflowers
in time capsules of devious accord

Drawn by its wolfish howls
And dangerous tenacity
Oh, how painless it was
to slip on that second skin

Though, its removal was
far from godly
and no stranger to malice
unmasked the anguished well-wisher

As onus pined for its keeper
While doubt feathered the weary
Laying its soft touches
on bruised shoulders
That lost the will to carry the weight
of your unknowns.

here comes the covetous queen
peering down with her bulbous blues
seduction tricked her minion man
"a servant's life for you"

farewell to your well-wisher friends
songs sung and summer's glee
her slow-burn scowls
and gloating glares
turn life to memory

suffocate and choke your cries
you've been deceived by a skeleton face
a spider waits with silent demands
to ****** without a trace

conceited veil of pride and triumph
beaming fire with her frown
there's no beauty to her majesty
just a pitiful, tarnished crown

some pretend
to be
a good wisher
but are just
selfish
hollow
selves
feeding on others
for their
personal shortlived
contentment

if I had all I could wish for
I would still wish for more
so I gave up wishing.

Prepare for the ache, memorize the thin miles of blue green vein under your skin so you can chart the ebb and flow of potential bruises.
Victim. Masked girl, see how she flies. Falls. Dies.
Watch her make love letters in blue curls, blue dress, forget me nots, loves me yes.
Watch her play house, but never a mother. Watch her play brother, uncle.
Sundown. Sky grows darker with the grime of the underground. Cheap powder, high relief.
Glitter stills in the air, hanging on to dust motes. High jack.
Sometimes her knife slips. At noon, all doom. Darkened laughter. Because injustice. Because woman. Because even molten lava cools. Because razor blades. Because her seams are tailored, but not well. Hiding a secret, but never well. Because no door bell, no peep hole. Blind faith. Fate?
She played the death games with dangerous men and she didn't win. But oh, she didn't lose. Never lost. Just bit off more than she could chew. So she swallowed hard and waited for the hurt. The bleeding. Pain, she knows that old sting. Not quite a familiar friend but something nostalgic.
Watches the red blossom purple like her skin is spring.
The day has lost its luster. Lighting birthday candles, hoping one of these expired wishes will catch flame and spark. It's happened once before. The time she saw hell wallpapered in shades of peeling yellow.
Likes to play detective, fancies herself a good liar. Poker face of gloom.
No reason for polite, for stare, for hands shaking over hidden knowledge.
She is awaiting the burn. Summons strength. Face twisted into a smile pulled by string. Puppet, watch me dance. Show time. Red velvet knees and stained glass shadowed pages. Because ink dries faster than salt confessions.
Because uncle brother and mother are no longer child's play. Rosary choke-chains. Mary was never her savior, tell us, Pope: where was god? I know demon, I know devil. I know pomegranate and mother. I no longer play daughter, I graduated to something more. Silver screen harlot. She's got big, big dreams for a bedroom starlet.
Submerged in the toxicity of blue daytime. Remember when you wanted to make it big? Before your skin became scar and bandage, before you sacrificed body in hopes of keeping your soul?
Poor ******. Poor half-girl. Poor daydreamer, star wisher.
Burned alive, the headlines said. No one read the story, thought char and bone were enough. Didn't read the follow up, didn't read about the missing teeth after the third day. Can't be bothered with the Phoenix, didn't want to realize there is a creature empty enough to poke holes in her brain to let the sun in.
Some wanted fire. She bathed in kerosene. Carried matches behind her eyes.
Not slaughter, sacrifice.
They call her myth.
They call her live wire.
They call her contagious.
They check for symptoms.
They say her demise was a vaccine.

"You are what you eat"
until one day you don't
and that's what you become
n o t h i n g (beautiful?)
your cognitions like broken clock cogs
s l o w s l o w s l o w (perfect?)

tabula rasa is the body unbefouled by
nourishment (enemy?)
And the walls are washed white
Nature sickly perverts vitality
The cornucopia becomes a conspiracy
To sully your porcelain
e m p t i n e s s (happiness?)

hypoglycemia makes you shake
but not as hard as eating a whole meal

Can one person be so myriad?
This identity could not possibly fit inside a body.

Dreamer. Comedian. Thinker.
  Friend. Musician. Writer. Smiler.
   Lover. Wisher. Runner. Fighter.

      Bulimic.

And there it is: ugliest of all words.
This identity could not possibly fit inside a body,
and you see, it doesn't.

It breaks it.



I don't know how
but


*I will win

Queen, O' Queen, thou art more than good enough,
Thou art mine life, in struggle's we wilt strive, we wilt survive the horned one's push; we art conjoined by ourn love, and stitched in by ourn kisses. We wilt maketh dream's cometh to reality, bypassing wisher's and wishes. Thou shalt cometh home from work, I shalt hath cleaned the house, fixed dinner: done the dishes. Taper's shalt be set, myrrh oil shalt be burning, Napkin's folded in place, the chicken over the fire shalt be turning. Ourn amour' shalt none more be faraway; we shalt be close, holding, kissing another, ourn anguish shalt decay. Mine Queen, O' dearest queen, I shalt wait; thou art not losing me, mine loyal empress of Asian sea's, I'm proud to be thy king, O' how happy I am with thee. Earl Jane Nagley: mine Filipino rose, and treat.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication-Filipino rose

‘On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month,

‘when the guns fell silent we will remember’*


When those visions from past missions played with intuition,

We just forgot about them!

When that PTSS kicked in and they started acting different.

We forgot about them!

When they came back home, got evicted from there homes and froze on the streets.

We forgot about them.

When they died alone, with not a comrade in sight, or a well wisher in miles.

We forgot about them.

When we pray for those who have died, but ignore those who are still alive.

We must of forgot about them

It is now 1:06am and
i couldn't sleep.

As cliche as this might be,
It's you who i keep on thinking.

How your pretty smile shapes up  so perfectly,
How your exciting laughter fills up the universe so beautifully,
It is hard for me to keep up with your pace at this rate, you know.

They said wishful thinking is a vengeance and i am both a wisher and a thinker.

I wish I was that caramel frappe you held,
I wish it's was my heart that you held so carefully, effortlessly.

I once told you that you're a masterpiece and indeed, you surely are.

I wonder if you think that you're cute as hell when you questioned things, when you asked me those numerical parts of the world.

I wonder if you think you're sweet as hell when you look puzzled trying to solve the maze, when you pleaded for help in deciphering the mystery.

I wonder if you think you will fall for me and i bet that you don't.

Now tell me how do i love you when i dont know how to start? For it's never a right thing to fall and it will never be.

So I'll just let these feelings fade away, away into the darkness.

Why ya come around,
Knockin on my window?
Rain rain go away,
Come again another day.
Little walkabout
Roll in, Storm out
Whistle Whistle, Windblow
Grit teeth, Tin-foil
Humble Rumble
Sunshine Spills upon the soil
Cotton sails away
Safe in sound and I'm still,
Making Noise.

La Da Da Da's

Well wisher, wish bigger
Grave digger, dig quicker
Cuz it's all in the statistics.. right.
Les't ya missed it
Then it's really all quite,
Insignificant!
Now if you wish to catch a fish, ya simply need to sink your hook
Impaling bait on anchor weights, take a break, read a book,
Take a look, inside yourself, remind yourself to check the knot you tied yourself
It's gotten loose, your food is on the move,
You're singing

La Da Da Da's

Rain, Rain
Go, Away
Rain, Rain,
Go, Away,
Why ya come around
Knocking on my window?
Knocking on my window
Knocking on my window
Why ya come around?
Why ya come around?
Why ya come around still,
Making noise.

La Da Da Da's

Da Da Dum.

Little girl burned by desires
Go go in her head she loves a man
She is young and stupid
Naive, innocent and adventurous
Sneaking in the night she reaches the fone calls a lover that lay in bed elsewhere with a another woman
The deceit of her beauty drives her astray
To risk her future in blindness to fall for moments
How can i lert a proud heart majestic in high life to spend at all times the sweat of men as she never minded she was cementing her tomorrow.
I dont care she said...i can leave home...who cares i can abort.
But then who cares you can also die, she sees from near and focuses not afar.
Early in the morning the mother folds her back and hits the garden searching for surviving fighting for her daughter.
No she is flittered and gone her coaching books with her body I  pause and tear.....
Such a generation
She says to all dont tell me what to do i have my chances to live, like a cat she believes in nine lives.
Her smooking temper alerts well wisher of help
Her clothes torn to many so she moves naked in their eyes only clothed to the unknown
The universe you ought to have will now have you

Will they be bygones or will it regrets

Lucky are those who can die for love - true!
I would, like to lay down my life, for you.
For no amount of money, no amount of joy
Seems to take away my tears, when I am lonely, my boy!

I may sound insane, crazier by the day,
But I'm a well-wisher, so don't run away!
If you had loved me once, kindly remember to pray -
To God, to keep your thoughts outta my mind and way...!

Pay our dues so you can write for someone else to help you out
What a crock of dog ****
I thought these words were coming from the muse?
The cherry wine orchards where birds soar for free
Are now taxed burned maimed and *****
So you can record yourself on some 10 cent tape
Either the lines are drawn and the combines have stormed through
Or the men and women behind the pens
Have truly lost their way
But what was a way before they decided to come and stay
We are all ****** in the end
Either to the Gods above or to the men with guns
Who are we if we are not fighting for the sun?
Absurdity in the tenth degree!
You want fire to cool your soul and love to make you bold!
Shame on the service entry fees with complaints of their boss
I write these things with irreversible electronic blood!
And if you saw me you wish that you'd never did!
Pom Pom girls break their bread as the football players shine their sleds
I'm in my bed wishing she was with me instead
Ram that note up your hole **** it up and see if its any better
The hall is broken the coolers dead landlords knocking
Where on Earth are you gonna go?
Mama's done gone and daddy's already dead
Sisters got a wisher with a pencil filled with lead
Streets are searing hot
And the backdoor to your house is locked
Let me have the key
And I'll surely make you believe
Lets stay up late an' we'll catch the next freight
Spend some time with me an' I'll teach you the meaning of hate
Wooden stool pigeons leaking blood on their eyes
A sigh colored brown
When you sleep baby
You don't make no sound
Wash basic red hedonistic hearings
Crystal nail polish with agate colored earrings
When a place is a place of comfort
Thats the end of your start
Stars shine so the blind may be able to see
I got women who know me and men who hate me
When I meet you
Which one will you be?
Soft fire ******* lick was the way you kissed
Your hands warmed from the liquor you said
On the porch you said I'd doused your torch
Where I then said "Love hurts when touched"

She came in my life after millions of
Prays to god
Her unique face is not lesser than a pacemaker for a heart patient
She enlights me in my every hard hour  
Such sisters ❤️♥️💗💚
Are true well wisher provided by God
I thank you God very much for this most precious gift
I will always be great full towards you ❤️💙❤️❤️💙💕❣️

Inner Weather Report:


The silence weighs heavily around my ears and it is difficult to focus

Stare at the ceiling but it moves as I end up head-first on the floors





My heart doesn't stop racing as I wonder and double back to crossroads left behind. Self blame is a slippery ***** which I already slithered away on. There wasn't much left and I feel like the hollow impression of smoke of an extinguished candle. My enthusiasm lurks behind corners as I run behind it but I tire out and stop for a drink at the stream of cynicism and depression. A sound resounding throughout my head as I imagine the worst and maybe that's not even the worst. College might not even pay-off.

How can I confide that I am worried because I don't see myself alive and going there means to sign a contract saying that I will not die?


It is a difficult reality and I worry so much.



A girl told me that I don't deserve to be forgotten the second I leave the room; that I deserve people caring and thinking about me.

She forgot everything the next morning.



As someone else sinks into depression, a whole group launches into discussions to help and I launch myself into it, a smaller part of me wondering where they were when I had asked.



It creeps onto me every day- an old friend. I've been comfortable living inside its haze for this long. How can I live without you my dearest friend? You have given me insight and clarity, given my feet direction even if just to throw myself off cliffs and I don't think I'll be me without you anymore.


How can I bid you goodbye? I was never good at those, preferring to walk out leaving bitterness and unsaid hellos and farewells behind me.


No promises and connections.

I've survived in you this long. How do I move on from you?


You are the only thing that has ever been mine, dancing in my tears and depression, asking me to cut a bit deeper, a bit more to the left. My four walls, ceiling and floor- you are my Home. Organically, growing, nestling in the veins of my sins, my existence. You are not a cancer but my closest well-wisher, you are me. To know you is to face myself. How can I breathe without you?

On a full moon day, and
On a cold starry night, over
By a meandering river side,
when reflections are your only friend,
It wasn't the moon that was radiant,
rather it was her beautiful glowing face that was in splendor,
because all I could see was her.

Maybe there are no new places to discover,
There are no new lands to conquer,
There are no new ideas to decipher,
There are no new relations to acquire, yet
There is only one thing to admire,
Her words and her soft demeanor, and
I am her fanciful well wisher.

From oceans shocked vapours flee.
You pity them with malicious glee.
Pretend to be well-wisher, a saint.
Crocodile! sympathizer you ain't.

In troubled waters you want to fish.
Never will be met your vicious wish.
You laugh loud, you plan and plot.
All Oceans will dry up you thought.

You are so foolish, I am in shock.
For this foolishness, no squawk.
Remove mask of friendship, you foe.
Where rain falls where rivers flow?

Oceans are on rise, feel the heat.
Waters have reached your feet.
Soon it'll engulf your land and rocks.
My foe, Let me give you this shock.

My mister,
Through bliss and hurt don't we miss her?
Her hair- silky mist
Her eyes- dreary mission wishes
her tears, it seemed, had fallen before the march,
before this hardship.
You carried that torch forever
No one cared but her.
And now such is blurred earth
Until you've become snuffed, wouldn't you be glad to be set fire to?
Starry eyes agaze to a blaze of new desire too
Much higher
High enough.

Age old age old the golden rule is true
However I would alter it a little
To say "Do better unto others than they unto you"
You may find that you will be taken advantage
Used and abused
Do not let this bruise your spirit
For it is not only hope but you that you will lose

I have always been a giver, a maker, a wisher
Spilling out golden sunshine where ever I go
Lucky in love, zesty with life
I wear my happiness like a coat of rainbows
That's not to say I have not had my days
Where clouds threaten to smother
I just blow them away with what wind I have saved
Hopeful tomorrow will not see their cover

Obsessively I write
I write and write
I want to, I need to
Every day without fail
My memoirs
My story
My boys in mind
But who knows
Where this could go
This could  be bigger than me
I may share my stories
For the world to read
The thought excites me
Because I'm now a Doer
Not a wisher
I'm eyeing what competition
Writing on a Mission
I'm excited again
Poetry helped me
To Ignite
My hidden passion
I really love it
Next mission Dinner
Chores done and dusted
I'll spend the rest of my night
Writing !

Friendship may mean a lot.
To some, it is platinum memories
And to some other, mere dawdle.

It is not one feeling but many.
A bond sewn in love, respect and friendship.
Joy follows your presence, dear friend.

'How' didn't matter. Why?
I wanted to know the latter.
Like a dusty moon in the attic.

Reminiscence strikes again.
With pain, I remember our glory days
For everytime, it followed.

It feels like a decade.
Only the jubilance stays;
The way we spoke, forgotten.

You have embarked on greater adventures.
Though we may forget the food we eat,
That is what keeps us alive.

An old well-wisher of mine
Remember me.
To, my soulfriend.

Was there when sticks milk the drum
Cocking cocktails life as curtain in ***
Ranting ringing rose love in her hear
She wants the Royce not the ear

Let me flood a river of streamless love
******* every atom of the sky like dove
Panting lagging behind in soul mates
Waiting for expensive kisses at dates

Who will love you better than I?
Not your priceless mobile phone but I
In the face of sad witch wisher
In the faithless thought of false preacher.

Would love than the anticipated  paradise
Stand for your course and purse and wise
Mention your love every night and twice
And recall love isn’t solid forever like ice.