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I hate the weight of each heavy smile
Within my worries are starting to pile
Sirens going and the alarm in my head
Has me wishing to weep instead
But the last thing I intend is to cause concern
So I hold the flames in though I feel my chest burn
Walls slowly creeping inch by inch
Closing in from all sides but I refuse to flinch
I hate to make a sound that might draw attention
So my anxiety I do not dare mention
Fighting for air but on the surface remain still
Underneath skin fear is too powerful to ****
All I want is for laughter to be more than a facade
And to look into the mirror and not view a fraud
Please just let my happiness for once be genuinely real
My emotions a tiring charade that I will never truly feel
Just one of those days
Not just someone to hold my hand,
but to walk with me through marbled halls—
past paintings that whisper centuries,
beneath chandeliers humming old opera songs.

To sit beside me in velvet-red seats,
when the curtains rise on tragedy and jazz.
Who claps when the classical music swells to its peak
even if he doesn’t understand the raga,
just because I’m moved.

To take Polaroids of me mid-laugh,
to frame the soft, un-posed pieces
I often forget I have.
To bring me lilies and baby’s breath,
not because it’s Valentine’s,
but because he listened when I said,
“These are my favourites.”

To come to church,
not for the sermon,
but for me.
To sit in the quiet stained-glass stillness,
not believing the same things,
but believing in us.

To be patient when I unspool,
when my feelings tangle like old film reels.
To hike with me, sleep under stars,
smell like firewood and freedom.

To cook, even messily—
pasta overdone, toast a little burnt,
but with a smile made of effort.

To plant something and keep it alive.
To find joy in roots and green things.

To let vinyls fill our evenings,
crackling jazz and soft acoustics,
swaying barefoot in the kitchen.

To read my poems—really read them—
not just skim the metaphors,
but feel the ache beneath each line.
To hum the songs I play on my guitar,
even off-key,
just to harmonise with my heart.

To let me talk about emperors and wars,
ancient cities and revolutions,
and not just nod—
but ask,
“But why did that matter?”
So I can light up with the answer.

This is the kind of love I want.
Not flashy, not loud.
But curious.
Present.
Rooted like a garden,
melodic like jazz,
and sacred like Sunday.
isn't it strange, that you meet yourself in different people, in new faces,
The person you witness and become, the imprint remains
It is part of you, subdued but brewed like cyclonic wind
Decode others with empathy, look beneath the eyelids
The door to the soul, it looks just like mine
From the exterior, what is, all these coverings?
We have hidden the warmth quite beneath everything.
Sure I’ll confess
My heart would sing loud
You in pale makeup
Your family gathered around
Dressed in all black
In a melancholy mood
Yup
I’m a ****** up dude
I wrote this haiku
Just to prove a point in words:
No one reads these days.
The poor can bleed while the rich do feed, upon the wars and that they hang around there necks. skulks of the fallen collected never buried but trophy’s of the greed that fed the blood soaked bills that passed from hand to hand. Like bullets passing through flesh, only the poor die, while the rich say more to fed the machine of greed that is never fulfilled until the last drop is cleaved with a bomb or bullet. And the poor due alone and hungry not able to buy a bullet to end there suffering, but enough to end another in a war that all had forgotten.
I'll speak your name

until it's not pretty anymore

Until it's so sharp and so distorted

it burns my cheeks like acid.
It's what I'm good at, I'm told.
Dear Nicole,
It’s been so very hard
graceful lady, I know who you are....

nobody if they ever truly knew you, would ever want to step right in your shoes
not the magic ruby ones or those worn out cowboy boots
They only saw the pretty
Never the bruised
Never the innocent child
Who never once flinched at the truth

Dear Nicole,
You were born into fire
and never had a home
You were given madness
instead of a place to grow
Small hands held onto a big dream
A heart too soft for what the world would bring

a yellow brick lie
A girl with castles in her eyes
Stepped out and got hurt
Thought love was soft

But the world had claws
And no curtain hid its flaws
You were brave you believed
But nothing was what it seemed
Yellow brick lie
They told you to fly
Then clipped your wings mid sky

wasn’t easy, was it?
To be born pretty in a world like this..
beauty isnt armor cause it never stopped the hits
a mothers glass slippers running on gravel roads
and red heels that never clicked
A house full of ghosts...
And storms that would never quit

A father repeating pain....
An uncle with no shame
You learned young
That home could be hell
Under the wicked witches
jealous spell

Too many mirrors...none of them true
Too many lions without courage
Scarecrows pretending they knew
The wicked witch after you
But you..
You kept walking through

wasn’t easy, was it?
click your heels, but where’s the magic?
a new york girl in a world off axis
carrying broken hearts and alcoholic habits
A sister gone without a trace..
A mother fading into white lace...
An old pain... dressed in blue
Wasn’t easy finding you

Somewhere over the damage
You dreamed of Kansas skies
But the bricks were broken
And the wizard fed you lies

A ****** shadowed your youth
An absence that made you crave the truth
You played brave on the surface
But no one asked what it cost
They just called it Nicoles choices
And named what you’d lost

But oh, Dorothy
You didn’t need a way home
You were the road
Ruby hearted
bright eyed
Still breathing where you should’ve died
You were magic all along
In a world that got it wrong
Thank you Paulie, a special....dear...talented poet god with eyes that can see <3
the hospital whiteboard
for the 21-year-old patient
has some sunny goals
"spend time with family"
"happy 4th of July"
upbeat aspirations
for a kid heading to the OR
to get sliced and diced
for ***** donation
Hope migrates to
sunny island shores.
There is no sorrow,
roses always bloom,
and the birds of paradise
fly forever free.
The salty ocean
cleanses the rot
from the skin
and the heart.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cz70MOS_JX8
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read from my three recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, and, Sleep Always Calls, all are available on Amazon.
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