It takes time to write a poem.
Nothing's happened for some years.
Wish I had some of a story.
Nobody wants the empty tears.
Never knew if I had emotions.
Never knew there was something to write down.
Stuck to more everyday stories.
Now my life turned around.

you may not know me
face to face,
but you and I have connected
heart to heart through words.

Our lives are woven together by
the tapestry of words,
and into a living breathing poetry.

you and I are no longer strangers,
but fellow poets and sojourners
on this journey of creation.

I met my soulmate. She didn't.

Consider:
every time you think
you have met the One,
he is probably
just One more
before the Next One.

   ~mce

When I last tasted her,
her lips were still
a mysterious heavy.
A glossed *** shine
and her proud mother's grin
held me helpless-
a lioness jawing her cub.

A cowardly actor I was,
depicting a breathful, firm
man bored and unmoved
by this no more than textbook
show of affection.  No.
She's mastered that text book and,
by chance, written a few of her own.
My theatrical mask was shattered fast
by the calculated clumsiness of her
apricot kiss,
revealing my boyish face
as the answer to the question,
who now is her masked man?

And still,
being a scientist not a philosopher
She unearths more enigmas than
solutions leaving her colleagues
balanced on the fence, waiting
in merciless anticipation for her
theories to be proven.
But the essence of a theory
is that it's unprovable.

I, being human, need only
answers to questions,
her questions
which she insists I answer.
For she knows I will always answer them for her.

She, also being human,
needs nothing else from me.
So she walks away.

"we're all just people with the same problems and different last names."

Let it be known~
        Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
               Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
                      
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
        Of conceived notions.
               All which may be considered good and true
                       Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.

Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
        Of what begs not be named~

i.

Overhead the offing
Mellifluous orb's reflecteth mine;
Betwixt the sunshine.

ii.

Lissome, her anatomy
Is grabbing me;
By her natural induced eyelining spy's.

iii.

Until the end, of mankind's time,
And beyond the hourglass;
Tick tocks's, the mountain's and rock's, forever we wilt last.

iv.

After this intermission of living
Explode's with the devil to fall;
We shalt embrace, eachother's warm face, and fuse to God's law.


©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley/ mine Filipino rose dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry