Heaviest, the Purge

Heaviest, the Purge …

Heaviest, the Purge

Ask the mirror like, “I could be happy, why won’t you let me?”

I need a levee in my head to keep the tears from flowing steady

Probe my verbiage in my verses, hit that criticism button, I’m ready

Stand tall under pressure, stick to it, like a wall thrown spaghetti

Confessions under fire, I seek improvements from each session

Get these devils off my shoulders, need a pathway into heaven


Real talk, I’m in the market for assistance to better my existence

Are these premonitions, or seizures? All I really need is a breather

Speaking to my ghosts in poetic form, I call myself the dream weaver

A firm believer in karma, in its pre-existence, in self-pain reminiscence

I charter a trip to the center of my soul, to conquer deeper suppression,

Unleashing all these butterflies I’ve long kept hidden as a secret weapon


All I’ve known is imperfections, these scars left inside from fighting

But those scars inside are lessons, a blessing for my future writing.

My writing pours out like molasses, sometimes dark and uninviting,

But has that subtle tenderness to caress your heart amidst your crying.

At times I find my pen overcast in shadows, unsure of my direction

Then the shadow passes like an onyx cloud, renewing God’s connection


I am at times a holy man, preaching family, but sometimes the devil wins

I write these words within this verse my goal is to conquer unholy sins

Every line for me is a palate cleanse, adjustment of the focal lens

Sometimes I hang with my enemies to find out if they’re still friends

Between me and this sheet of paper I make amends, each line to reckon,

My inner circle number lessening, no disruption, no outside impressions.


I said eureka when I counted on them, just know that this means I get it

In countless edits my head hurts, if this line works, does it have merit?

I shredded rough drafts dipped in dark mass, the place where I’m headed

I don’t need those fanatics or the status, just an apparatus for credit,

So when I’m decrepit and ready, my grandkids can read my expressions,

And know I will keep staying away while the demons try to beckon


For more works like “Heaviest the Purge by this author see Paul Neglia on The Creative Exiles.


You can also see more great work by Paul Neglia on HubPages.


Paul Neglia
Latest posts by Paul Neglia (see all)

Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

6 thoughts on “Heaviest, the Purge

  • February 8, 2023 at 9:36 PM

    It seems we fight our demons throughout life. Yet, we always come out victorious if only one step ahead. Well done, Paul.

    • February 11, 2023 at 7:48 AM

      Thanks Phyllis. Fighting those demons is a Neverending battle, makes someone long for those precious few moments of peace. Thanks again

  • February 12, 2023 at 7:44 AM

    I love the poems you write that delve deep into internal battles of our daily existence. True teachings in the art of being human. Well crafted Paul. Thank you for your poetry. Jamie

    • February 12, 2023 at 9:00 AM

      Thanks so much Jamie. I find it easier to write about these internal struggles than writing about an object, etc…appreciate your comments

  • February 17, 2023 at 2:36 AM

    Great, intense poetry! I feel the struggle inside and can identify with it. You are an excellent wordsmith.

    • February 17, 2023 at 3:23 PM

      Ann, truly appreciate your kind words. I feel like we as people are always struggling with this inner turmoil.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

By continuing to use the site, you agree to the use of cookies. more information

Our cookie settings are set to "allow cookies" to give you the best browsing experience possible. By continuing to browse this website you are accepting our cookie policy.