Poetry
All Poems
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The Man Who Never Died All at Once — New Poems
I’ve lived a hundred lives, none of them simple. I died in corners no one looks — silent deaths, small fractures inside me, one after another, like cracks spreading through glass. But somehow, I kept getting back up — bloodied, bruised, but never broken. Pain twisted itself into blueprints, wounds spun into sharp ideas. I…
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In the Wake of Silence — Jaded
Silence is the loudest thing in the wake of everything I’ve said. The words hang in the air, unspoken, untouched, and I wonder if I’ll ever hear them again. But the silence speaks in ways the words never could, and I listen— even when there’s nothing left to say.
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The Unspoken Backdrop — Jaded
Love is something that makes us feel the happiest alive, but it can lie. When you think you’ve found someone, yet you’re left trying to forget. Days slip by, and still, you miss them. You sit in the past, letting it mold your well-being. What’s better in yourself? Who you were then? Nothing, actually. Tell…
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Inferno — Phoenix Heart
My heart is ticking its last breath for a cause from years ago, no longer shedding a tear, but quenching the flames of anger before your satire becomes a satanic regret.
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I Closed This Book — Phoenix Heart
They acted like they could burn out your light bulb. Like they knew our make and model. It’s a tragedy, jealousy. It started at birth, masked with daily doses of pharmaceuticals and traumatic damage that turned the family into my abuser. Undergoing the worst of the pandemic of post-traumatic stress, I shook through my whole…
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I Am a Fish — Freedom
I wonder if I will ever escape. I hear tapping noises. I see fingerprints on my glass bowl. I want to be free. I am a fish. I feel nothing at all. I touch something smooth. I worry if the cat will get me. I am a fish. I understand that I am stuck here…
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And it sucked — From the notebooks
…I have lived my life on the edge of a pen, where every stroke is a battle between who I was, who I am, and who I refuse to become.
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A lie. — From the notebooks
“The battle between good and bad isn’t waged in the world—it’s fought within, where truth reveals that neither is pure, and both are part of the same whole.” — Vincent Enrico Magnani
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Burn. — From the notebooks
the kings are coming the latins have arrived Expect red all over With scared tears to die Snippet: Vincent Enrico Magnani
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Ah — From the notebooks
“An anti-hero’s superpower: turning everyday moments into something meaningful“ Written by Vincent Enrico Magnani
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Yo — From the notebooks
My friend: why’d you let so many people walk over you? My answer: You’re in a room with someone who thinks they know your weakness, but you’ve done the work on yourself. Now, you play the clown for jokes and giggles, because you already know how this situation ends. Written by Vincent Enrico Magnani
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Goodnight — From the notebooks
“…at the end the insanity of “I’m losing my mind.” Just know – it’s still going to be “if their absence brings you peace, you actually won.” Just gotta look.” Snippet by Vincent Enrico Magnani
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I Smirked a Few Times, Then I Just Played Jenga by Myself — New Poems
No rage, no roar— just a calm, chilling nod, as he painted the walls in gold. Mocking the links, talks, and winks, everything with a goal. Piece by piece, trying to knock him down. In solitude, they found him still smiling.
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I Met Someone, Let’s Say Him Is Me — New Poems
And he sings Frank Sinatra It’s funny how life got so serious, The kings of Bloody Mary tried to destroy the same Prophet from the kings that praise his cold shoulders It’s funny how life got so serious But I was the only one tiptoeing around the marigolds Like dancing with Satan himself. It’s funny…
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I Didn’t Die — New Poems
I just stepped off Earth for a while. I sat with the higher ones — talked, laughed, listened — and then they sent me back. I was granted another chance. Now I know the quiet joys of simply waking up. The responsibility of being yourself. The power of owning what you’ve done — not getting…
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Heavy on Pride, Disguised in Triumphant Chaos — New Poems
I rode the levels—highs that crack the sky, lows that kiss the floor of hell. Still, the phantom taste of something lingers— some product, some poison, some memory that won’t let go. They tried to run with my soul, tried to ruin its shine— but it slipped, like morning mist dissolving in the breath of…
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Prominent by Trade — New Poems
Carrying grace in its fullest force. Never powerless— Just a profound piece of enigma, Higher than the gods you praise. Tortured by what only jealousy can soothe. Prominent by trade, Never powerless by design.
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I See You, But I Stand — New Poems
I feel your breath behind my back, A shadow trailing every track. You think you’ve carved me out in chalk— But I’m stone, and I still walk. You mark my doors, you watch me sleep, You sow the fear you plan to reap. But hear me now, and hear me well: I’ve built my roots—I…
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To Self-Care — New Poems
Is it something you chase, or something you wear? Do you seek inner peace like a prize to find, Or do you refine the battles inside your mind? Are we just cells, just atoms in place? Or is there more beneath this face? If care was simple, would a muse still rise? Would our emotions…
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Tipping Through the Tulips — New Poems
I keep forgetting the steps I make, tipping through the tulips, Like I don’t offer something unique— A soul twist in society’s shifting. A messenger, by chance. A messenger, by vein. Carrying my name correctly, I shall gain… in vain.
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Dancing in the Rain — New Poems
Dancing in the rain. Making sure Adam and Eve are pleased one last time, Conquering their quests, Managing a manhunt for the property of my soul. Raindrops drip like the pink cast of a strawberry moonlit night. The stars twinkle, while sobbing echoes down the streets. Like someone who’s been through fire, and now dances…
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The Mirrors Scream Back — New Poems
Trauma— the most elegant way to call someone selfish without ever moving your lips. Funny, isn’t it? Some play dumb. Some fall apart. Some wear the crown like they earned it— forgetting they started the fire they now dance around. Value everything. People bleed too. Just like you. Kindness isn’t hard until you start rationing…
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The Happiest Meal I Ever Did — New Poems
They say Hell is fire and brimstone. They say it’s pitchforks and screams. Lies. Hell is a brightly lit diner with checkered floors, a jukebox that only plays Kidz Bop covers of Linkin Park, and a greeter named Cheryl who will ask if you’ve tried the “Smiley Meal.” I died choking on a mozzarella stick.…
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Less Is More, Right? — New Poems
You’ll always be talked about, Reality made you the hottest topic, Feels like a one-hit wonder. It is what it is. People who talk shit don’t matter anyway, Like a shadow smoking a cigarette on a billboard at midnight— Everyone swears they passed it sober, But no one remembers the same thing twice.
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Sensitive, You Say? — New Poems
Oh, I see. You spit on my shoes, and when I notice the stain— I’m the problem. How sensitive of me to not say thank you for the character-building mud. You hurl disrespect like Mardi Gras beads— cheap, loud, and flying at my face— and when I don’t clap? You gasp. You clutch your ego…
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To Whom — New Poems
If the enemy wants to flash the voodoo, compute the right way. Don’t riddle around the merry-go-round; it’ll only cost you your temptation. If the enemy wants to strike with whispers, let your silence weigh like stone. For words unguarded feed the tempest and leave your mind dethroned. If the enemy weaves a web of…
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How They Proceed After Isn’t Your Problem. Carry On. — New Poems
This toxic environment of hatred fuels self-destruction and overshadows the future. Selfish anger seeps into every interaction, transforming into something almost unholy. A moment’s respite was meant to break the cycle—to seal the door to vengeance and silence the lingering echoes of sorrow. Yet life moves forward, bound to its own rhythm.
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The Remote — New Poems
Imagine the full weight of my effort— poured into people, places, and things, only to be met by the cold calculations of those who watch with an evil eye, measuring my struggle like a formula to be undone. Exposed. Not by failure, but by the world’s quiet hatred, greeting me at the gates of remote…
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Rain — New Poems
The wind hit my face with the mist of your teardrops, I’m drowning in the fog of your wrath while preparing for a heavy downpour up ahead. Why am I drowning in your self-misery? It’s a question I ask every day.
Poem Archive
Browse the complete archive — 409 poems organized by theme.

