relatively musical.

If you are reading this, you are one of those very special people who has been following and supporting my poetic endeavors for the past several years. I’m happy to share a new piece of myself in the form of my music. You can listen for free over at

Be sure to follow me there and on instagram @thelevitucker so you can hear all the new music that will be coming out over the next few months!

As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love and support.

I love you all.soundcloud_img

-Levi T


Ear tonic

Thank you so much for the continued support in my music. It truly means the world to me knowing that my songs are reaching you, all over the world.

My newest song, Uphill is out and free to stream(along with my others) on Soundcloud, I’d love if you took a listen. And as always, thank you. I love you all.


the wolf.

There is a wolf behind me somewhere
He creeps out of sight through the trees
Now and again I’ll catch a glimpse
Of his burning moon eyes watching me

Sometimes his paws are all that I hear
Falling on gravel or snow
Sometimes his breath is hot on my cheek
Through his fangs I can hear him growl low

I will never forget the night that I felt
His jaws on the back of my neck
The pinpricks of blood, the promise of death
The terror of standing back up

The wolf, he never sleeps
The wolf, he follows me
Won’t set me free, won’t let me be
He’ll kill me one day, the wolf


This won’t hurt ‘cause it’s already dead
Don’t mind the stains where it laid and bled
If we can look inside, find the broken parts
Keep them on the shelf in a pickle jar

The knives are sharp and the gauze is clean
The lamps are full of kerosene
Bring the undertaker and the doc as well
Let anybody with a mind poke around for a spell

The cause of death was an untried try
A hardened heart and a fertile lie
The cost of the cure was far too high
So the cause of death was you and I

Do you see where the rot took hold?
There in the middle grown over in mold
All the tonic and the pills and magic tea
Couldn’t fix what was broken in you and me

Now there’s no use crying, the spirit’s gone
And the women in black done sang their song
So make your notes and i’ll make mine
We’ll know better if there’s a next time

The cause of death was an untried try
A hardened heart and a fertile lie
The cost of the cure was far too high
So the cause of death was you and I


i talked to god
she told me not to tell anyone
i thanked her for my food
she said not to be silly
i asked her to keep my family safe and healthy
she said that was my job
i asked her what i should be doing with my life
she said stop asking and start living it
i said amen
she said don’t call me anymore


of all the good ones
the preachers’ kids
the deacons’ kids
I was in the thick of them
from diapers through learner’s permit
and I was the one who caused heads to shake
for daring to question things
God bless the pastor who took a knee
to thoughtfully ponder my heretical queries
who welcomed the pious punk
and all the questions that simply aren’t asked

interesting that I’m the one of the baptist brood
that prays and says grace
and curses when i’m glad
while the good ones grew
to worship the coin
saying “In God we trust”
fooling no one – we all know
how they got their gold
they stink of dirty money
blood-frenzied by equity
but they’ll always have a place
on Sunday morning
a quiet hour to sit and think
of ways to guzzle more and more and more
of their brothers’ dollars Monday morning

I am secure in my spirituality
my truth is lifelong pursuit
not something I glance at once a week
and only mention when politically prompted

they lash out hatefully when they don’t understand
but are internally justified
because they are the good ones

don’t misunderstand me
this isn’t contempt or resentment
simply a commentary on growing up
as one of the good ones
but deciding that I wanted more
daily i am thankful for parents with vision
who taught by example, love and respect
daily i remember the pastor who only thundered
when love was on the line
when the good ones radiate hate

there are good ones who stayed good
there are good ones who went bad
and there are good ones who write poems
about the good ones, looking back


force of habit
sleeping on the edge of a mattress that sleeps two
waking up, reaching out for warmth
finding only cold empty
a pillow never creased
never wrinkled
half of a comforter never turned down
leave it untouched, the hope is sweet
someday soon the dreams will
conjure a remedy to the empty
and then, will be only to sleep
unempty sleep
go to sleep you simple fool


here, take this spoon and gouge your eyes
I will do the same
we’ll set our optics on the windowsill
a quarter turn for each
maimed and marred
pained and scarred
but at least we’ll see eye-to-eye

next, we’ll use the kitchen knife
make sure it’s good and sharp
slice the skin and chop the bones
and carefully take out our hearts
they’ll thump, you’ll jump
our throats will lump
but our sleeves will wear them well

our surgeries will be messy
the linoleum permanently stained
but once the acrid smells have aired
we’ll be better people for it
we’ll be better
we’ll be people


i want to die like a firefly
a violent smear on a windshield
one final glowing blaze of glory
to let you know
i was

i want to live like a lightning bolt
a terrifying point in time
unbridled burst of brilliant vigor
to let you know
i am

i want to begin like a maelstrom
a tempest to shake the heavens
a harbinger, a prophet, a wayward fortune told
to let you know
i will be