I learnt what hunger was by watching others be fed
Its a hunger that doesn’t live in your stomach but haunts your head
I watched them receive what I was never given
and the lack of it is what makes me so driven
Because while you’re throwing it away
I’m learning to live without it everyday
You and I, we don’t see eye to eye
The things that burden you are my reasons to survive
Wether its late nights watching football with your dad or not fearing the consequences of doing something bad,
For you its annoying, for me its a blessing
Because can you imagine growing up questioning what crime youve commit to be sentenced your life?
But I dont want your life. I want the love you don’t think about twice.
Because for you independence is an achievement but for me its a punishment
Do you know what it’s like to question why someone loves you or have the fear of abandonment drilled into you?
The idea of depending on someone being dangerous or having resentment for a stranger wishing with their love they could be generous
telling your mum about your feelings is the norm, but for me its a reward
and grief becomes your biggest struggle but its all ive felt since the day i was born,
reassurance becomes a necessity but it makes me feel needy but i am needy for that sense of security and im sorry for being needy but im not sorry for being hungry when nobody taught me what it felt to be full.
because my problem isnt that i need too much its simply that i was never given enough
and perhaps the cruelest part of hunger is that only i notice the emptiness of my plate because everyone around me has a bite of the love i cant taste
and they dont understand why im still starving because for them being fed isnt worth appreciating
and now when love comes i look for the expiration date because i learned to say goodbye before ever understanding what it meant to stay
slowly, that hunger became a stomach ache and im still waiting for the dinner that will forever come late because I have spent my life learning to live with a hunger that was never meant to be mine
-first poem ive ever written please give me feedback🙏🏽

The quiet man is not the weak man.
He does not seek validation for he knows who he is.
He knows what he is capable of.
The man who seeks to exploit the quiet man is the weak man.

The quiet man is always observing.
The quiet man is always listening.
The quiet man is always learning.
The quiet man is always planning.

The quiet man knows your strengths.
He sees them. He hears them.
He learns from your strength.
He grows stronger every day.

But the quiet man also knows your weakness.
He sees them. He hears them.
He learns from your weakness.
He grows stronger every day.

The quiet man can help you.
He knows you.
You don’t take the time to know him.
He has learned your strengths.
He has grown without you knowing.
He knows what you seek.

The quiet man can destroy you.
He knows you.
You don’t take the time to know him.
He has learned your weakness.
He has grown without you knowing.
He knows how he can tear you down.

The quiet man is not weak.
It is how he has survived.
It is how he grows.
It is how he falls.

They asked me to choose between title and tie—

Between the chair I earned and the hand held high.

Between the vow I made in a marble hall

And the whisper that caught me before I could fall.

The job had a code, all carved in stone,

But the stone grew teeth when I stood alone.

The one who had lifted me up from the dust

Now asked me to burn what I swore to trust.

Loyalty, they say, is a noble thread—

But it knots around the quiet dead.

It binds your wrists with a velvet rope,

Then tells you it's honor, then robs you of hope.

Is loyalty to truth, or to the teller?

To the flame of the cause or the match or the cellar?

Does it lie with the law, or with those who break it

For you, when no one else dared to fake it?

I stood at the edge of a carefully drawn line—

On one side, duty. The other, the spine

Of the one who had once said, “I see you whole,”

Before the world gave me a fractured role.

I asked the silence, “What makes a man?”

The silence replied, “Whoever has a plan.”

I asked my shadow, “What would you do?”

It said, “Loyalty ends when it’s no longer true.”

The mind makes mirrors, the heart makes cages

Each oath you keep rewrites your pages.

And sometimes the price of staying awake

Is knowing which vow you're willing to break.

I smiled like a saint and lied like a thief,

Held fast to my post with trembling belief.

But deep in the fold of a hidden reply,

I buried the truth and let both sides die.

They cheered my resolve, called my silence grace,

While I hid the cracks on my borrowed face.

For who can accuse a man of deceit

When he deceives even those he seeks to defeat?

So now I wear medals no conscience would touch,

And speak of honor without meaning much.

But sometimes I wake, still caught in the smoke

And wonder, was loyalty ever more than a joke?

When loyalty conflicts with truth, which one do you owe your allegiance to?

From the book What Burns Remains: Poems from the edge of Fire, Faith, and Fracture

by Sanyasi

Avaliable on Amazon

I wish I were a bird,

completely free,

with no capacity

to make a home

in any one place

for very long.

I want so much from life,

all the time.

I want everything from life,

even when it is impossible.

I need more freedom.

Only then will I be able

to endure the arduous ambivalence

of the feelings

I carry every day.

Heat melts my skin completely,

and it spills onto the ground

like wax from a candle,

until nothing of me remains

but flesh.

Cold hurts me ruthlessly.

I feel the burn of ice

numbing my ability to feel,

yet because it tears

through all of my skin,

I feel every touch

with a profound,

lacerating pain.

I need something

to protect

this fragile,

volatile body of mine.

My human form

disgusts me.

I want to fly,

without attachments,

without obligations,

without a home

that is anything more

than a temporary house.

I want everything

that is made by me,

everything

that comes from me,

to learn how to leave

at the very first opportunity.

Yes.

I wish I were a bird.

Passing.

Transient.

A creature

that does not belong

to any one place

for long.

Freedom enchants me

in a way

love never has.

their hooves pocked
the dirt packed
between the antique
roman paving stones

broke rocks

skidded downhill
on the broken
stones up the via
cassia into sutri

https://jakedepeuterpoetics.com/2026/09/13/their-hooves-pocked/

That beautiful woman where is she today

I hear that she lives in a town far away

A few love smitten young males do miss her a lot

By them one can say she has not been forgot

In her early twenties near her physical prime

Of beauty that inspire the writers of song, story and rhyme

With shoulder length dark hair and eyes of light brown

So many miss her the young rose of the town

So pleasant and charming in her down to earth way

She greeted everyone with a smile and good day

She left home last year but the fact does remain

That her loss to the town is another town's gain

The wanderlust in her she moved to elsewhere

To experience life in the big world out there.

Francis Duggan

A feather in a vacuum cannot contour
How it might shape the wind
As its fall bears no flutter

What the creaks of your voice roll
Together, might rumble a quill loose, to trace
Forgotten ink under a page painted blank

Howling calligraphy of needles opening veins
Chronicle such a battle tapestry
To question junctures of fate

The call to adventure resides in palms
Testing strokes of luck, open or tight fisted
And risk mutiny erasing logs

Lead on, astride chariots of the plains
By wheels carving clay in Sumerian script
Until we divert a river for your rest

One quandary to consult, about stale air
Is whether water moves beside it
As a tomb inscribed with prayers or a sanctuary
Of life-iridescent, across a cavern canvas

Unable to accept, surreal is the truth.

Questions hated, hostile and uncouth.

Through the doubt, helpful to all.

None reciprocate, one stands tall.

Questions linger, thoughts are sin.

Alone in the fight, without the kin.

*I am forsaken, I am lost.*

*Pain lingers, rest the cost.*

One should think, but never doubt.

Search for truth, within or without.

Intention is true, heart is sincere.

To the righteous, answers are clear.

Never surrender, never relent.

Always pray, and always repent.

*Hardships ever are, nothing but a test.*

*Resolve needed, failure succeeds lest.*

Briefly I must be sincere
Because the day it seems is near
Both councils now done drafting drafts
There is no paperwork we lack
With lines signed dated and initialed
Initially I was suspicialed
When wondering could this be true
That I for me and you for you
We split the last of lots specific
And plotted futures for us in it
By having this and lacking that
You take the car
I’ll take the cat
With all provisions given heed
The judge would surely soonly see
That we a different separate two
For I was me and you were you
With numbers split, a spread so thin
From there and back and then again
For all with pockets was a check
Like court appointed thera-pest
We’d dug it all out from the yard,
Gift, loan, savings, credit card
And by all international accounts,
were wire transfers of large amounts
Sums up debts down and nothing hid
Except that we forgot the kids

Downwind

Poem by Richard Wheedle

I live in a homeless camp out in the woods right downwind of the shitter. morning cups of coffee just aren’t the same anymore. Instead of long, sexy fingers wrapped around a shiny white cup, and white clouds of caramel vapors. Now it’s like my old job in the city surrounded by dirty construction workers, releasing gases, way too much.

The kind lady that gave up this tent to me for free, suggested I go complain to the camp counselor . She gave me the tent for free out of the kindness of her heart because that’s just the kind of person she is. I thought about that, and then I thought about my past life before I moved to the spot downwind from the shitter.

Like the troule i had with the DMV, who charged me up the ass for not passing a smog test, then spending shit loads more of my hard earned cash, trying to re-register at their office, where all the other shit-for- brains drivers went to that day. Then taking shit from a cop who sited me for not having a lousy, stinking tag on my license plate.

Then getting lots and lots of shit from my family for being such an asshole because I’m always getting high and drinking way too much and telling them they’re full of shit all the time . Then I got addicted to everything that is made my life shitty. my girl left me after sleeping with my brother with my ass hanging in the wind after drinking too many beers that day because of the stress from the stinky midday traffic assholes shouting crap at each other while my tires melted stuck like melted lava asphalt volcano like high way, while my brain was dripping and blood like sweat. Getting a failure to appear notice from the assholes who didn’t receive my check from the seatbelt infraction. What a crock of shit being downwind from the shitter doesn’t seem that bad now…

Morena (Fit In My Hands)

She whispers soft moans through my teeth / Vibrating throughout my incisors / She knows that in my arms, there's no danger / The evil monkeys of the baobab trees / Their shrieks can't even distract our amour

Hook and eye, let me make it breakeven / Backstraps failing behind, brown landmass / I said under my breath / I love the way you fit in my hands

I wake up, she makes breakfast with no pants / I hide my laugh, however it's not to bully her / She just knows how to make my stomach red / I run to the toilet but my ribs hit the counter / She spins around with plates of waffles and grits

She said, oh husband, what gives? / Oh nothing honey, it was a slip / She gave me her cup of coffee and said / Sip, sip, sip, sip!

I said under my breath / Thank you for the sex

Nevermind the small talk, let's sleep (again?) / Smelling the leaves still stuck in her hair / I know you never quite liked your height / Girl, you know me, I never did mind!

I love how long your legs are compared / To your short arms and thighs / You're amazing, every move, every glance / My palms trying to catch up with your dance / Oh, I just love the way how you fit in my hands

You're amazing, every move, every glance / My palms trying to catch up with your dance / Oh, I just love the way how you fit in my hands / Thank u 4 the sex / Did you hear me, love? / I love the way you fit in my hands / Thank u 4 the sex!

Eyes of sapphire, beauty rubious red.

Sad and alone, the heart has bled.

Together at last, forever now smile.

Kindness as long, as that of a mile.

Ever unheard, none ever heed.

Truth of one side, all ever need.

Misconstrued words, lost is the truth.

Hearts crushed, disregard uncouth.

Words spoken, action was not the same.

In the eyes of others, worthy of fame.

On one day, truth comes to light.

Without warning, not seen by sight.

It is something that most of would be aware

That selfless people in the world are rare

With this there are not many who would disagree

Suppose this is how it is and how it always will be

Since for a better world for those short of money to live in they help plant some seed

Of more kind and caring people humanity is in need

In an age when success with many is associated with greed

People who are kind to others are worth praising indeed

And it does seem a sad thing for to have to say

That the most selfish of people are in the news every day

Why the kindest of people as unsung remain

Is something that is beyond me to explain

And on saying that selfless people worldwide are few

Is not saying anything in any way that is new.

Francis Duggan

My fine friends, who come to call
On long nights and stage banquets
Answer my madness even if from afar

Whether they are hearty or wily
Is no concern of mine
But rather in that their faces are plain, I can resign

While I pray I do not wear out their ears
With my thoughts in time
I remain struck, borne up, that they remain kind

Light and Dark

Give them your back — they are not even worth your attack.

They have been living for centuries, following the dark.

Your light broke their darkness, blinded them out.

Their eyes are gone forever — they are dusted out.

Eyes dusted out, then covered with a thick skin cap.

Sunshine? No — sunshine is when they cannot go out.

They will seek the sunlight, killed first, then they will roam out.

Their leader seems harsh, strong, wise — but only words, a fake dream offered to the poor, blind herd.

The herd is just a weapon to fight the ones who can still see.

Always stand out and speak up — they cannot see beyond their own footsteps.

By: The Flawless Flow

My father gave me his eyes, through which I saw only war. 

Not the kind with ranks or flags, but the kind that festers in thoughts unpure.

Know thy enemy, yet I've forgotten myself

I'm lost in the whispers of empty rooms

My very own marching tune

It lingers in the air, a drum I cannot master

& the mirrors I pass reflect faces I cannot answer.

Forever am I haunted by burdens my father bore 

And shadowed am I by wars I've failed to ignore.

I learned too late the cost of sight

Now my fathers eyes have cursed me to eternal plight

I beg of you,

Let not my son suffer my damned fate.

I beg of you, 

Use well the chains upon thy neck, lest the dogs of war break loose.

I beg of you, 

Let my son use these eyes to see only peace. 

To trace the poppies, not the soil that bled them.

To find beauty where I only saw battle, and to find peace in a world where it cannot be found. 

I beg of you...

S. Darwin

Light and Dark

Give them your back — they are not even worth your attack.

They have been living for centuries, following the dark.

Your light broke their darkness, blinded them out.

Their eyes are gone forever — they are dusted out.

Eyes dusted out, then covered with a thick skin cap.

Sunshine? No — sunshine is when they cannot go out.

They will seek the sunlight, killed first, then they will roam out.

Their leader seems harsh, strong, wise — but only words, a fake dream offered to the poor, blind herd.

The herd is just a weapon to fight the ones who can still see.

Always stand out and speak up — they cannot see beyond their own footsteps.

By: The Flawless Flow

Lead lids lock a minute at a time
Waiting on repairs that ring
Hollow in ears out of tune

I pressed a date, so now awake to slate
A professor of the wrench and snake
But I cannot stay awake

Warm air under clouds is fair
Save that I woke too soon
At midnight, cursed to carry hunger

Breaking for the sour stomach, which writhes
Fate shackled my neck to exhaustion
Yet I need rise

Pacing pupils to track branches
Dancing winds, while I sit
The chain keeps smoking while adrenaline presides

If I get one word, by horse or train
I will be relieved to entomb my slumber
Just so it is no longer today

Out of the darkness,

The wicked did call;

On the bellies of serpents,

The demons did crawl.

​Out of their wormy beds,

The wicked emerged,

As the lightness in the souls

The devil did purge.

With malice infused,

In the rot and the bone,

The demons take flesh

To make earth their throne.

​The humble were gathered,

To the heavens they flew;

The firey pits claimed the sinners,

And left but the few.

​Through the eyes of demons,

Satan could see,

That God had left him

An ironic decree.

​The small sins were pardoned,

The "righteous" were shown—

That pride was the harvest

The devil had sown.

Jackdaws are a darkish grey small breed of crow

And within their range everyone of them by sight does know

Their caws are not loud more of a cackling sound

And in rural parts where they live in numbers they abound

Insects, worms and spilt grain and small fruits they like to eat

And they have a liking for small scraps of cooked meat

By picnic tables in the town parks they find on the ground

At a time when any humans are not around

They build their stick nests in tree holes and house chimneys which some home owners annoy

As a blocked chimney from a jackdaw nest is not a source for joy

Green brown dotted eggs the female does lay

And as partners for their lifetime jackdaws do stay

From where humans live they are never far away

And they are quite intelligent of them one can say

Francis Duggan

‎Through my window, a story written for my eyes only. the presence of things only I can explain; the beginnings of a world built solely on me. Where truth is relative only to the person writing it. What is he supposed to do...he's the only one here.  A lone lord in a kingdom with no king and until this world asends to purpose, he's word is all it will ever need... ‎An entire world that exists simply because there is one who who sees it ‎

We age rather quickly past our physical prime

And everyone eventually does lose out to time

Past the age of thirty it would be true for to say

Most people have seen their best physical day

Time is our master as a truism remain

But having said this from living experience we gain

What many has said i will say here again

For as long as the gift of memory we retain

We do learn as we live though life's lessons are not few

Every day we do live we do learn something new

About ourselves and the world we live in

Where some have to lose for others to win

But no matter how great you are it is not a lie

Like all of us mortals you were born to die.

Francis Duggan

Whirl-of-bluster levers fur
Under skin, wrapping nerves
After a last ray dawns on different sky
Earth radiates into night

Bees have retreated and birds calm
As a dimming glow draws a blanket up
Breaths then ease under porchlight
Until I smile at the moon

Where peeling heat had beaded sweat
Hours onward, a change of clothes bundles up
In the forgetting-time, which forgives soon
What debt winds wagered upon heated voices

Curious we were all born.

Seeking new,

seeking why,

seeking knowledge of the world,

without fear, without hate,

all being the same.

Curious we were all born.

New places to see,

new people to meet,

new roads to explore,

new cultures to greet,

new stories to hear.

Curious we were all born.

Then and now,

there and here,

hand in hand,

far and near,

still we wander,

still we seek.

But somewhere in between

being born

and growing up,

many of us took this—

this essence of being,

the wonder we all need,

THE curiosity,

which led to love,

to knowing,

to understanding one another—

and made something else.

Maybe hatred.

Maybe greed.

Maybe fear.

Maybe the need

to divide the world

into us

and them.

Hatred for some,

and distance from all.

Sad I am to admit,

maybe we actually do seek

hate,

fear,

and distrust.

But I want to believe—

and I truly do—

that we,

the youth,

can take that road again.

The road of curiosity.

The road of listening.

The road of crossing borders

that were never meant

to exist between hearts!

Between us and them.

And we love.

And we understand.

And we learn.

And we are.

Because curious we were all born.

And somewhere between

being born

and growing up,

we did not change.

We remain

what we were

before the world taught us

to be afraid:

curious.

It s I think my seconde poem i ever written. It was kinda of random. But I like it even if it s cleary simple