The Lies about tomorrow,
—the truth about today

Deceived by joy and sorrow,
—all future gone astray

(Las Vegas Nevada- January, 2017)

Each Poem wrought,
  another day of
  freedom bought

Each verse proclaimed,
  one more glorious
  night renamed

Each line unleashed,
  new light is shown
  old shadows hide

Each truth I speak,
  my soul electric,
  —words alive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

I stare in the mirror,
And the devil stares back
Laughing and sneering,
His taunting attack

“I bought you, I own you,
Now run, try to hide
Your soul has been mortgaged,
Your spirit denied”

I run through the barn,
And come back with a brick
At the silvery glass,
I throw and then kick

The pieces all scatter,
And smash on the floor
As a roar can be heard,
From the rafters and more

A fire has started,
The hay loft ablaze
With bats in the air,
The demon has raised

I reach in my shirt,
For the cross round my neck
For my Grandmother’s promise,
To preserve and protect…

And the heat that it carries,
Burns bright in my hand
As I point it aloft,
At the horns that now fan

“A Rosary upon you,
Return to your cave
My faith is restored,
—my sins he forgave”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Stolen from eternity,
  the feelings would not
  lend themselves—to words

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Hunting the distant banks
Of one lost remembrance
A reckoning came upon me  
Excuses left askance
My tracks grew large
As midnight’s table turned
The prey had changed to predator
Of a memory left unlearned

        The dark repeating whispers
           my soul afraid to tell

        Until its breath upon my back
          —last step my fear to quell

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)

A Poet writes from experience,
  dilettantes rave and rant

The price demanded to feed the Sage,
—wishing and hoping can’t

Magic in wrapping a word around,
  place known or thing you’ve done

Beauty when lyrics belong to you,
  —in songs now others sung

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Are we constantly building
  circular walls,
  —that we feel safe within

Are the threats contained,
  as our minds abstain,
  —in our fortress ‘void of sin’

Does the air we breathe,
  serve to then mislead,
  —forming words that echo back

Now inside a prison
  where we must serve,
  —as ourselves, we then attack

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

The light through
My Grandmother’s
Bedroom window
Called out to me

‘Calls out to me’

Leading me to places
Where I had to go
Revisiting me now
In my twilight years

‘In my twilight years’

Reminding me again
Of those places I’ve been
And my reasons for going
As the mileposts shone

‘And the mileposts shine’

Reaching into the distance
Where the horizon pulled
And the dawn arrived
In what drove me once

‘In what drives me still’

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2014)

Surrendering very little back to life,
  the time became solely my own

Which I spent on myself and the ones I loved,
  protecting what inside was my home

The years raced along with my memory endowed,
  regrets being seldom and few

Each choice that I made—every promise I kept,
   my spirit enthroned sovereign and new

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

The words flock together
  and stretch on the frame

Their meaning runs over
  still wet from the pain

The canvas is porous
  the easel maligned

The curtains blow outward
  faces calling in mime

The streets all a-chatter,
   it was Paris in spring

And striving to look busy
  the most important of things

Looking back at my window
  above the tannery so high

A shadow stares back
  —and I flee in disguise

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

You tell me…
the structure gives strength to your writing

I tell you…
it’s nothing but crutches in waiting

You tell me…
  the order brings beginning and end

I tell you…
  the sequence does feign and pretend

You tell me…
  the form—the most important of things

I tell you…
  the message is on Seraphim’s wings

You show me…
  the prison you’ve build with your pen

I show you…
   a cartridge empty—no ink from within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

When the world turns
   on a whisper

Why do we insist on
  shouting

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2014)

Like cement before it dries,
Like a promise before it’s kept,
Like words spoken,
—yet unfulfilled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2013)

Though great were Joyce’s writings,
—his preference was to sing

Irish ballads and Welsh folk songs,
  his raucous nights to bring

With transience his dearest Muse,
  words speaking for themselves

His truth to roar from greater depths,
—still lost within himself

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Stackable living
  hackable lives

On top of each other
  like bees in a hive

Inside a box
  hard corners to know

A neighbor above
  a neighbor below

Stackable moments
  fractional lies

The walls serve two masters
  invasion implied

All differences measured
  in bedrooms and floors

A blueprinted nightmare
  its maze underscored

Stackable meaning
  the truth wearing thin

Its elevator stuck
  stairs covered in sin

The higher you climb
  the farther you fall

Stackable living
—the death of us all

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

I never wanted to be famous,
   I only wanted to be great

I never promised you an answer
  even now as questions inflate

I traveled each and every highway
  as time kept changing once again

I never told you it was magic
  —just a wish blowing in the wind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

The places I’ve travelled,
  yet haven’t seen

The roads I’ve ridden,
  while caught in-between

The mileage piled up,
  memory lay stacked

Voices call distant,
  —my mind to go back

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

I lived inside my timeframe,
  did you live inside of yours

I lived outside my timeframe,
  did you live outside of yours

“I carried things from now till then,
  a toll I humbly paid

Across a bridge where time had stopped,
—the truth to pass each way”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

I never chose to live among you,
  and choose to die alone

My thoughts in writing here beside me,
—last verse my ticket home

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

The earth cracked in Nepal
  with fire and shame

And thousands lay dead
  on the mountains and plains

Its crust was ripped open
  its heart now exposed

And lives were then claimed
  from a heaven deposed  

The story for mystics
  a legend say some

The day nature demanded
   for things that we’d done

Her climate infected
  her sky ringed in black

Our future as payment
   —with no turning back

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

His life spinning inward,
  to its center returned

A whirlwind of intent,
—through the maelstrom it churned

His end was beginning,
  as the last became first

All time banished outward
—evil Gargouille dispersed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

Round and round,
went the memories of pain

As the joy slid off,
in an unending refrain

Round and round,
  the promises spun

And one by one,
  into lies they’ve become

Round and round
  my heart was passed by

Your eyes looking distant,
  mine alone left to cry

Round and round,
  my life came and went

In blind revolution,
—more borrowed than lent

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Giving and taking,
  both day and night

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Some then mistaken,
  some often right

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Last right of refusal,
  the one holding tight

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The lows though not many,
  the pain always right

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Words ever radiant,
  the music so fair

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The sweetness of children,
  my soul they ensnared

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The darkest of moments,
  their message to share

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
A voice though unchosen,
  inside me declares

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
As the days grew short,
  and the visitors came

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Their voices cry out,
  calling my name

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
One verse was enough,
  no time to explain

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
My final breath,
  a lasting refrain

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The money fleeting,
  any fame now gone

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
A 5-star boardinghouse,
  no curtains drawn

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
With arms open wide,
  and the peace to move on

On my own terms,
  I ended my life
All that I’ve written
  —turned back into song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

The Muse continues to punish me,
whenever I write prose

Her slaps severe with pain heartfelt,
—no fury 'Hell Hath Known'

She sentences me to endless nights,
and days when words won't come

Until I succumb to writing verse,
—and she, my breath becomes

The Court at KOP: February, 2016

Training the enemy within,
  universities soldier on

Unchecked and unaccountable
  
They march to the beat of the
  government drum

Tearing us apart from the inside

While Rome burns
  —and Legionnaires die

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2014)

Without there being  
A God
I could never question  
His existence
Through the power of
The question
Divinity shines
Do birds question?
Do apes question?
Do flowers question?
Only man questions…
—and only man knows why

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)