Is it Crosby, Stills, or Eagles for you,
  Republican or Democrat to vote

Is it Chinese takeout or Italian bistro,
  or the prose or poetry you wrote

Is it bland or spicy, thick or thin,
  as you struggle yet to choose

Is it yes or nor, or God forbid maybe,
  what’s to gain and what’s to lose

Is it briefs or boxers, or none at all,
  is it winter over spring

Is it Rock and Roll, or Blues or Jazz,
  does it have to be one thing

Is it dogs or cats, or beer or wine,
  is the difference felt inside

When you choose just one, to eliminate,
  what your vanity tries to hide

Throw out the rules, pull off the mask,
  to your inner self be true

Force not yourself to choose between,
—but what’s now in front of you

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

From Winston:
“When youth departs
  —may wisdom prove enough”

To Winston:
“When spirit falters
  —all will to then prevail”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Did you edit away the fire,
  in your attempt to be correct

Do your words make you a liar,
  as they break and disconnect

Is that order you chased after,
now deserted no-mans land

With your mind and spirit sinking,
—in a literate quicksand

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Life,
forever promising more

Death,
—its own reward

Bangkok, Thailand: January, 2009

The Lost Generation
  now lost online
  Paris, a web of postings

Its cafes are fed
  fresh verses unread
   —new Seines left overflowing

(Montmartre Paris: March, 2009)

Through the eye of the needle
Not to the left or the right
Dodging both on the comets tail

I streak into the light
My last wish out in front
As words melt in a fiery contrail

And with only one question
To weaken my heart
With only one thing to know

The seasons entwine
All beanstalks are felled
With the exit signs all aglow

I crash through the doubt
Releasing new hope
My affirmation now to reign

And look ever further
Beyond my scope
As my senses become untrained

I feel the loose pieces
Start to come off
A new lightness now abounds

The last burden has lifted
Burning bright in my wake
Crossing over—turned around

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016 )

Is anything more beautiful
  than a Tchaikovsky waltz

The Nutcracker sublime,
  Swan Lake to exalt

Where violins elevate,
  and horns renew hope

Archangels in heaven,
  by his music elope

Is anything sweeter
  than a Tchaikovsky refrain

Wind instruments sonorous,
  flutes pouring like rain

Percussion calls out,
  as you rise from your seat

No choice but to dance,
—your circle complete

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)

Through the keyhole darkly,
  he could now remember his name

Through the keyhole darkly,
  his medicine kicked in once again

Through the keyhole darkly,
  he knew his daughter by her face

Through the keyhole darkly,
  he was now back home in his space

Through the keyhole darkly,
  his dog was closely by his side

Through the keyhole darkly,
  his eyes though saddened, opened wide

Through the keyhole darkly,
  her voice unwrapped a precious gift

Through the keyhole darkly
  a love once anchored, set adrift

Through the keyhole darkly,
  he felt the light begin to dim

Through the keyhole darkly
  his markers fade, his reference thin

Through the keyhole darkly,
  the killer thief arrives once more

Through the keyhole darkly
  all loss of self—a closing door

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)

The spare bedroom of life,
  is where I sleep now

The other rooms taken,
  the past dreaming proud

This cot that I lie on,
  one sheet to keep warm

With furniture missing,
  and curtains all torn

The end of the season,
  the end of the hall

Forgetting the reasons,
  my memory now small

As both eyes shut tightly,
  my vision within

A palace awating,
—a welcoming hymn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

A four year endeavor
A lifetime of pain
The hours put in
Always fighting the strain

One hundredth of a second
Your dream crashes down
The spoils eluded
Someone else with the crown

No pictures or news clips
Today come your way
The prize to another
The trophy at bay

With pity now over
It’s time to dig in
The reward in the training
New endings begin

So head back to the track
Your pool or the court
The bar a bit higher
Your coach to retort…

   “It’s all up to you
    As you reweigh the cost
    Never quitting—the magic
    Until then nothing lost”

(Watching The Winter Olympics: February, 2014)

Physics over Metaphysics,
  the cart before the horse

The chisel praised, the sculptor blamed
  —the tool the icon sourced

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

A highway of regret…
  an avenue of denial

A boulevard of hopes and dreams
  where footsteps have defiled

A thoroughfare of wanton time
  each choice a dead end road

In fated plundered wanderlust
  —dark alleyways of stone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Disappear into your smart phone
  the world outside is doomed

Your few remaining human traits
  have long since left the room

Disappear into your smart phone
  all life beyond is lost

Your feelings truly virtual
  you’ve paid a mighty cost

Disappear into your smart phone
  while others stand beside

And just like you they tap their screens
  faint proof that they’re alive

Disappear into your smart phone
   as time is winding down

All spirit tapped, emotion strapped
  your history lost, unfound

Disappear into your smart phone
   that bed you’ve left unmade

Your spirit cries as memory dies
  whose LaLa land you crave

Disappear into your smart phone
  its power now supreme

Your knowledge mapped and future trapped
  —your destiny undreamed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Nothing brings a conservative and liberal
together…
   —like staring down the barrel of a gun

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

To live as an artist,
   but die as a man

Dust forever chasing
  —what heaven began

(Center City Philadelphia: January, 2015)

Perfection and honor,
concealed in the words

Shame and disloyalty,
rejected unheard

Deep in a poem,
truth’s finality hides

Inhumanity cursed,
—its verses defy

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)

Falling leaves mark the beginning
of natures fast . . .
Winter is coming

Hear her icy bell blowing distance
through your memory,
as trees half naked
spot the ground with clearer vision

“Oh alas, the winds of autumn run
captive through my soul,
And place the stones in order
spring doth disavow

Whose cold reprieve an answer grants
in frosted shortened light,
To spread new life upon this breast,
—and natures womb”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 1977)

Can you own the present,
  while renting the past

Can you steal back the truth,
  from the future at last

Will the reasoned excuse,
  ever be reason enough

For all questions to merge,
  with the answers rebuffed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2106)

Lost,
  in what is still to be forgotten,
  —reawakening again

(Crazy Horse/On The Bike: 7:40 p.m. Yellowstone, June 17th, 1991)

The friendly enemy,
  or enemy friend

What matters the difference,
  or need to pretend

Either stabbed in the front,
or knifed in the back

The wound just as fatal,
  in either attack

Blood given freely,
  or blood taken dark

Veins running empty,
  leading back to the heart

To face it undaunted,
  or preyed from the rear

Deaths twins will approach,
—on the tip of one spear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)

Divorcing the Muse,
  her property demands were high

The alimony my insight,
  leaving me speechless, high and dry

Once the papers were signed,
  it was the last I was to write

Visitation denied
   —monthly support payments in light

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

The vision intrudes,
  stealing ink from my pen

A thief in the night,
—leaving words that portend

A warning’s been given,
   its mantle thrown down

But truth will speak over,
—what darkness avows

(Villanova Pennsylvania:  April, 2017)

Archangel Of War To Prowl The Skies,
—Winged Messenger Of Death

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Because of *******,
  the straightest path bends

Because of *******,
  confusion befriends

Because of *******,
  all smiles a frown

Because of *******,
  up is now down

Because of *******,
  the truth is a lie

Because of *******,
  a pig seeks to fly

Because of *******,
  all evil portends

Because of *******
—this world will soon end

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

I rode the feeling
  down a running stream,
      — to the river of no return

And cast my fate
  into the current's wake,
     — toward a waterfall unheard

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

With death on the floor,
  he tried to hang up his salvation

But the coat hook to eternity
  was full

The closet door to redemption,
   now locked from the inside

The cloak of forgiveness,
—for someone else to wear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Are you the hero of your own
  dime novel

Are you the toy at the bottom
  of the ******* jacks box

Are you the name on the wall
  of the public bathroom

Are you the saline solution
  they use to detox

Are you that groove in the record
  that repeats over again

Are you a promise forgotten
  carried off by a friend

Are you a serial spectator
  whose ticket’s not punched

Are you a banquet disaster
  in search of your lunch

Is your mirrored reflection
  left empty and cold

Is the one option left you
  —forlorn but foretold

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)

It’s a comedy of errors…
  the clowns and actors inside

When for two millennia,
  they served to amuse and abide

The patriots and righteous
  once made all the laws

But now the Halls of Congress
  by their presence are flawed

Through political correctness,
  the blind pretend that they see

With our future in peril,
  they laugh at our pleas

A carnival sideshow
  they make of the truth

As the press and the movies
  back up what’s uncouth

They lie in our face
  with the darkest of plans

Their excuses in concert
  now leading the band

Like the rats in the cellar
  and the bats in the barn

To the hills we must drive them
  where they can do no more harm

And the power repositioned
  among the brave and the wise

Who care first for their country
  —keeping freedom alive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Formal education,
  requires a fence

With borders to confine,
  and logic intense

Three letters that matter,
  the I, S, and M

Each school suffixed over,
  its member’s defend

Realism, Rationalism,
  Idealism all…

Each name its own failing,
  as verity calls
  
True thought has no class
  or Academie named

It stands on its own,
  the truth its sole claim

With knowledge in conflict,
  the days turn to night

Academia’s lantern
  —burned out in the fight

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Deep in the woods I buried a flower
Far below the leaves and scattered bark
And planted a wish that Spring might grant me
Fearing by May all would be dark

Through the snow of a fading winter
A twisted sprig broke toward the sky
Carved on its trunk were tiny letters…
“The gate’s now open—your time to fly”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Raw and uncut, the Poet
  sharpened his edge

The entry wound targeted,
  with fury bright red

The first cut the deepest,
  and clean to the bone

His wound bleeding freely,
—its suture unknown

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Making love to the Muse
  newborns fell upon the page

And we named them one by one
  as we lined them up by age

Making love to the Muse
  a new progeny was spawned

With death now but a servant
  —and each child turned to song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Depravity’s eye
  looking at you

Depravity’s eye
  piercing straight through

Depravity’s eye
  asking for more

Depravity’s eye
  destiny’s *****

Depravity’s eye
  calls deeply within

Depravity’s eye
  the wage of all sin

Depravity’s eye
  the price you must pay

Depravity’s eye
—for all that you say

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)