Matthew Abuelo Poet I do not know?

Voice of the Heart

I watch the glow of my joint burn out
As I find a new way of dreaming
Beneath the stairs.
I keep the jester’s hand on the end of a chain
Around my neck
And strangle the promises made by the heavens
And I the buffoon bought.
Now I just stare outside the window
Through the eyes of a cold
as ghosts
Drift down river
Then are gone. 
Maybe it was the Nyquil 

Somewhere down the avenue of memories
Where SROs still stand
 one can hear
!
!
!
Shouted from a window.
Just goes to show that love is a speckled egg
That doesn’t hatch angels or devils
But ordinary voices
Of unordinary men
Or women.
It’s the voice of the 
Naked heart.

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Beata Agustin February 5, 2026 at 5:52 AM Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.

Belden Raiser July 29, 2020 at 10:30 AM I don't think it was the nyquil :) well done, Belden. Matthew Abuelo July 29, 2020 at 10:41 AM Thanks Belden