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I no longer have the name I was given
when I was seven it was changed
"for your safety"
Like my mother would care enough to come find me
the only thing she cared about was her next fix
I didn't get a say in the changing of my birth name
They changed
One
Letter.
One letter later I had a different identity
I hated the name, told my adoptive mother so
every time she called me it I responded with
That's Not My Name.
but here I am, ten years later, responding to a name I hate
It reminds me that they didn't care enough to listen to me
That's Not My Name.
sometimes when strangers ask me for my name I am still tempted
to respond with the name of my past
it is beautiful, it was MY NAME.
All I wanted was to have an opinion, to be heard
To keep my name my name my name MY NAME.
That's not my name
From Hayley to Harley. For years I got teased and called "Harley Davidson" and "Harley Quin". Technically they changed my middle name and last name too, but changing my first name hurt worse since I hated the name SO MUCH.
This is a tale of the lives
of fools who are wise
a balancing act of love
hate truth and lies.

A carnival-style society
pull up stakes no time
to commit and contracts
full of loopholes so
there's always a way
out of it.

Nothing's for certain
too many choices keep
our heads raised high
to see in a consumer's
world that the grass is
greener on every side.

A lifelong love doesn't
seem to be a part of
this game of quantity
not quality but in spite
of it all I still hear love
calling out my name.

First I hear you laughing
then I hear you cry
the promise of forever
then the promise of
goodbye.
© 2025 Daniel Tucker
The depths should
Cry out your name and
The winds ought to whisper
A solemn elegy for you

But Earth kept spinning
And the crowds kept laughing
Oblivious to the fact that
You're suddenly gone

How dare they
Finding happiness
In a world without you?
How could I ever forgive them for not mourning for you...?
~
Sugar wife,
slipping husband,
massaged honeymoon flesh
wrapped in cellophane.

The sound of a water clock
cascading down
her mysterious frontage.

Handprints on
the glass pane
opaque with remnant steam.

Let your eyes
be your guide,
when dressed in
the tiniest temptations,
she catwalks into the room
with a novel idea for two.

~
Below Estuarine mud
The first webbed foot

Shows stone.

Gulls shriek through
Blue/grey sky
breathe
do you feel your lungs expanding?
do you feel you chest rising?
open
open your eyes
do you see the sun?
the moon?
the stars?
the clouds?
all of them were made for you
you
wonderful
       beautiful
                lovely
                                ­           YOU
sincerely,
someone who cares
came from another country, you know,

quite some time ago. i lived in the jungle’



yes.



‘i have been here so long, i feel i belong’



yes.



‘ they call me an immigrant’

said the bear, sadly.
Submerged
He feels the dirt’s love affair
Unfamiliar with its sound
A coating of sleep so coarse
She inhales his fear
Mariners wonders
He is real and colors ago
She had wept of his passing
Now, no longer apart of story
Her winds wave hello
Underneath her tresses
His mentor had strained, limply
Halted beauty did not restrain him?

Eva I find she plays
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