Sean C Stucki

Sean C Stucki Sep 8

Written: 5/5/2025

The ominous wind blew into my lungs again.
"Here's your crown, king of the call centers again!"
Las Cruces proclaims to this insubordinate ant;
as I reach back to Phoenix
with cold crackling hands.
We are blind, my wife & I
awaiting this fog to dissipate it's settings.
This civilization in distressing woes;
where locust moths here eat up all financial blessings.
But in our grief the future things bloom, as
I held in thought God's light on the
empty tomb.
Man-made hope comes in breakable triangles
and hangs on mortal suspense but in
lowest terms the call center pays the rent.

a poem about moving to New Mexico and how poor it is here. © May 5

#moving

Sean C Stucki Sep 2

Dark night of the soul

Written: 1/14/2025

It's the miserable life of a depressed hypochondriac.
15 years and the shadow hands stretch
out to torment me.
I was in bed crying out to God, this is my
suffering on a plate with abundance.

I feel like my soul is sick.
The thought came to mind while sobbing:
"This is a dark night".
Men who'll pay in the end don't care about sick souls.
As long as they have sports, food, *** & comfort
they'll gladly walk to hell.

Last Thursday I just walked around my apartment
all day trying to sleep to no avail.
Here's to the open page being the best and worst of my grips;
I need another part time job because I can't be
left alone with my thoughts anymore.

Repeating to Yahweh anything I could think of then
once the tears stopped I remembered why I hate praying quietly.
I see the cracks in my rage and run off from
a vivid life of black ashes.
Pulled the covers up and stopped moving in the cold stillness.

I guess these are the notes of a scoundrel but it
can't stay this way, I have to stand face to face with my fear.
It's like one of those antidepressants where going cold turkey
causes pacing in the backyard for a year straight.
Back and forth, back and forth.

A poem about praying at night © Jan 31, Sean C. Stucki slice • of • life

#prayer

Sean C Stucki Sep 1

Tropicana Jive

Written: 6/21/2025

Sent as an emerging
after thought to work
the community pool.
Sent to the pool park
where 4 cartel kids
we're executed by
4 high school classmates.
I walk and was told by
a mother that there's
a needle lying on the
edge of the walkway.
I walk behind the pool
area and see the dimly
lit tweakers out on the
grass with
fentanyl aluminum foil
syringes laying in the
tan bark at the
playground.
Considered walking up
and punching the bald
tweaker in the face
when I see the kids
swimming past the fence.
But what would that change?
As I walked back to
the front I thought on
how the world is satan's
realm and
there isn't much I can
do to change that.

a poem about yesterdays work shift © Jun 21, Sean C. Stucki slice • of • life

#sliceoflife

Sean C Stucki Aug 25

Incurable wounds to loyal love

Written: 8/20/2025

Mot climbs in my window in the dead of night
to break the bloodline and use my family's
sick abuse to cook up curses.
And I know no better when I struggle
with this orange fire inside that I walk with
day and night;
that you walk with the same.
And because I feel incinerated I don't think
to look if you were ever visited by the same ancient demon.
I spilled onto our plate when the same
obtuse fire was imprinted in you.
So we fight and scream and whip each other
in flagellation on a canaanite temple's pillar
we call our apartment in the ghetto.
But once we realize that Jesus's love
isn't descended from hell
and we allow our tears to quell the lava inside
and repent and call out with our hands gripped
realizing our gazes were transfixed,
with inner frustrations and hate intermixed.
It leaves ( for now )
and we see the dust from the break of sunlight
in the twilight.
As she goes to sleep I sit up and think
"It's wonderful that just a mottle of God's grace
sutures what I assumed were
incurable wounds."

A poem about seeing the light at the end of the tunnel

#spiritual

Sean C Stucki Aug 20

Thought I was grounded when I told mommy I'm trans

Comedy poem
Written: 6/23/2024
For the private poetry reading LP: British Honduras

The kids, my teachers and the media said it was cool.
Megan tha stallion told me to live my truth when I got VIP tickets
To the “Dance on Moloch’s giant shaft tour”.
Dr. Lapson said he’d do my *** change operation for a discount
Because he said more teenagers like me need to get more Brave!
The moment I saw 2 lesbians making out
On the movie screen during ‘Elementals’ I knew this
Was my life’s destiny.
Mommy told me to tell the judge and the jury that
Daddy is an evil man.
Dad laid down straight religious discipline in our household.
He made me and my younger brother go to private catholic school
For boys.
Mommy pretended to ground me after I came out as trans.
Daddy is in jail now because the judge threw the gavel at him
And now he has to register in a way where he’ll never
Work a legitimate job again.
Daddy, your a hateful bigot and for how to made
Mommy feel I hope you are forced to swallow a caltrop.
I’m gonna ask my youtube crush Idubbz on a poly-date
After mommy takes me and sister to our first drag race
Story hour.
Daddy said the talmudic jews are engineering society and us kids.
Mommy teaches us he’s a bitter ******* because his
NBA career never took off.
They called him the white Prime Derrick Rose and he
Tore his ACL.
I hate you dad, I hate all chauvinist men and we all gotta
Get together in washington DC and get **** trump outta office!
Mom only grounded me cuz she was scared but
Now that i’m an elder at 13 in the LGBT army I will fear
No conservative!
Dead men can’t ****.

(written for the midnight never-to-be-published collection)

a comedy poem I wrote while at work © Jun 24, Sean C. Stucki experimental

#trans

Sean C Stucki Aug 5

White cloak placed by white hands

Written: 8/4/2025

You're misery matches the food in the soup kitchen,
Yahweh or lucifer will show themselves and comfort;
with 1 giving supernatural treasures with a cost
and 1 giving the promise of eternal things otherworldly.
Either way, the big toothed locust will swarm on your health
and you'll become aware of your body's proprioception.

Short style poem about the duality of life where everyone is either worshipping 1 of 2 Gods even if they don't realize it.

#god

Sean C Stucki Aug 4

Ashley's Ashes

Written: 7/28/2025

I felt when using my fingers like little diggers on
the web that I've reached miles down.
Too far down
and found one of the most hideous
actions in our world.

One day sir.
Ashley's blood sings from your cement floor to God.
You're judgment will encapsulate you while you
throw your ******* money in the courts as a
facile defense.
Only condemnation will sing to you in the
form of a purple blaze of carnage.

My cherished? Justice is coming.

Christ calls His in 77x7 times of forgiveness
but for people like you?
There is no forgiveness nor redemption.
You're 77x7 will be the infinite amount of times
you will boil alive in fire.

Sir, your screams of agony in hell after I die
will be a song from the sweetest nectar.
When Ashley and the millions of other child victims
will walk in a place without pain, without sorrow
and reach towards the light of God
her and their smiles will be painted
across my face.

A poem about a video I stumbled upon 10 years ago having to do with human *** trafficking. © 7 days ago, Sean C. Stucki reflection • on • memory

#sextrafficking