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When an equivocal mind is fed ambivalence off silver spoons,
the inevitable death from starvation will arrive.
For I will never taste the conclusions
of my own vulgarization.
Ambiguity is no nourishment to satisfy my soul;
Though being consumed is quite finger-licking.

I’m chewing on my own becoming.

Will I have the right to be fastidious about
my growth?
If dipping myself in gold would be more
palatable to the one’s surrounding the table
only I sit upon?
Another round of silver contemplation and napkins please.
perhaps I’ll just interrupt you.
Pillow drools blood stains
From dreams which don’t go away
Sam S Apr 7
They say there’s a ghost in the pond.
Big as a dog, orange like fire,
wears a face that’s not its own…
a mask of stone and fury.

But it’s no ghost.
It’s a goldfish.
One they flushed,
or forgot,
or never believed in
when it was small.

It lived in glass.
Fed crumbs of care.
Until the world cracked open,
and water poured wide.
The fish swam free…
and became itself.

Now it rules the pond.
Not with teeth,
but with power.

The koi step aside.
The shadows watch it pass.
Because this goldfish
learned how to grow.

Not a ghost.
Not a warning.
Just a goldfish
who outgrew
everything they gave him.
kn Mar 21
Woke up with a heavy heart,
Loud thoughts pulling me apart.
Longing for love I thought would stay,
But some things quietly drift away.

Still, in the quiet, I learn to grow,
From broken trust, new light can show.
And though the pain may not depart,
I rise again—with a tender heart.
teju Mar 12
The only emotion I know
is rising and rushing.
Fast and raw,
yet never disgusting.

It's hard, I know
but that’s the catch.
A strong force for me to match.
My body learns, blends, it sways,
ready to swing along in its reckless ways.

Ahh, the rage,
I like it,
a fuel to ignite my fire.
It’s good,
I love the warm feeling,
a spark to turn my soul.

Ahh, the pain,
I can achieve it,
all through every ache,
I rise and grow up.
It's mine, I hold the warm hug,
untamed force, I let it flow.
Daniel Tucker Mar 11
We wasted it so
We wasted our souls
Like storm clouds
we broke out
and flooded the seeds
we needed to grow

You held on to me
You tried so hard to see
when I rebounded
from breakdowns
that seemed to wear
down your strong spirit
that you needed to go on

We were stranger than
fiction through our
contradictions
You drifted within me
I poured within you
your currents of
reason to my torrents
of questions
We were
drowning in unison

But as you freed me and
I freed you as we were
both set free by the eternal
Source of freedom  
we need to keep on doing
our part in what we need
to keep on being free.
© 2025 Daniel I. Tucker

A poem from the living of my life.
Sam S Mar 5
I don’t want silence, I don’t want space,
I want sticky fingers and a messy place.
I want tiny shoes lined up by the door,
Giggles and whispers and toys on the floor.

I want late-night cuddles, a toddler’s embrace,
A partner to love, to grow old face to face.
To sit on a porch swing, gray hair in the breeze,
Our grandkids all laughing, climbing our knees.

So where is this life? Is it waiting for me?
Or will I just dream it and let it go free?
Daniel Tucker Feb 18
...and you and I forever transform
under the aegis of the immortal

as we grow like the roots
of the banyan tree

which hang down with the branches

helping to provide shelter
as we slowly grow closer
to the sweet earth
in silent anticipation

finally touching
gently pushing deeper
until we are one in purpose.
© 2025 Daniel I. Tucker

Notes:
Banyan tree roots are aerial prop roots which grow downward  from various parts of the branches into the soil.
Laokos Feb 16
Venus, O Venus!
you do not shine—no,
you burn, awake and knowing,
a luminous wound in the sky’s
quiet body, a beacon for all
who lift their eyes,
aching for direction.

but today, you have slipped
behind the curtain of the world,
a veiled ember in the great turning,
lost to our sight—
but not gone.

this morning, I too am unseen,
folded into myself,
caught in the invisible workings
of some celestial geometry
that cages and releases,
cages and releases.

there is a breath at my back,
an absence pressing in,
a presence without a face—
like hands just beyond the veil,
like voices speaking without words,
like the quiet dread of being watched
by something I cannot name.

and so, I ask, trembling—
what am I to do with this?
how do I stand beneath this weight
without crumbling?

and from the silence, an answer,
a whisper that is not sound
but understanding—

flower and fall.

this is the way of all things.
this fear, this pressure,
this restless hum beneath the skin—
it is not death, but motion.
it is not decay, but renewal.

do you not see?
what once clung to you,
what once devoured you,
is now peeling away,
a husk lifting in the wind.

let it go. let it fall.
let the unseen hands carry it
as ants carry petals to their hidden cities,
as birds take seeds to waiting earth.
what seems an end
is only another sowing.

Venus is not gone.
she only moves beyond your sight,
whispering in the quiet—

grow.
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