Questioning forward,
  answering back

Ideas move inward,
  time has gone slack

This moment eternal,
  reference hacked  

The couplets on fire,
—reason attacked

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

You have money in the bank,
  but you’ll never be rich

With the power to buy and sell
  though yourself disowned

Those things today and then tomorrow,
  their weight crushes in upon you

A legacy doomed as rock by rock
  —your future coursed in stone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)

I’m not part of
  any movement

Or adhere to
  any Regent

I don’t follow
  any rules

That aren’t in most part
  my own

I don’t
  attempt to teach

Or begin
  to preach

A stronger
  thread

Than
  what you’ve sewn

I don’t typecast
  iconoclast

Or look for
  acceptance

Under the cover
  of my thoughts

In the darkness
  of my room

I don’t criticize
  bastardize

Or tear apart your
  weaving

Asking only the same
  from you

As you sit upon
  your loom

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Beyond my consciousness,
  in stark relief

A place beyond reason,
  all spirits unleash

Beyond my awareness,
  I inherit the wind

Each breath I blow inward,
  new endings begin

Religion, a concept,
  that God can’t abide

Dogma a pretense,
  where idolaters hide

In my dreams there’s a voice,
  that comes unannounced

Its structure on fire,
  new words unpronounced

Time but a weapon,
  to use on the weak

Its measuring stick,
  to never complete

One question—one answer,
  for all that transpires

In primacy wrapped,
  no logic hard wired

The years I’d spent looking,
  those moments I’d waste

When deep from inside,
  with subliminal grace

The great Crazy Horse calls,
  chanting words once unknown

“Your vision has freed you
—its voice now your own”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

Created perfect...
  in your raising were you tainted

From self-interest and corruption your
  waters darkened

In the distance you were lost, unable
  to find your way back

From depths, where your spirit lies cold
  and unforgiven

But the initiation of your ancestors calls out
  from what you first knew

Holding in their hands the perfection of your
  birth,
  —forever chanting your name

(Pine Ridge South Dakota: ‘Crazy Horse Reminds’ May, 2011)

A people once censored
  their limbs on the rack

All knowledge and freedom
  under constant attack

But cream always rises,
  and cows do come home

The truth never captive,
  enchained—or then owned

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

After Midnight
The narcissists fall
After Midnight
A new lyric calls

After Midnight
Last bugle to blow
After Midnight
There’s more left to know

After Midnight
The lizards collect
After Midnight
Old tales to reflect

After Midnight
The ticking will stop
After Midnight
The bottom will top

After Midnight
A cancerous tome
After Midnight
Malignancy known

After Midnight
Betray and deceive
After Midnight
Alone in the siege

After Midnight
All footsteps fall deaf
After Midnight
Lost palates are cleft

After Midnight
New story to front
After Midnight
Two stars for the dunce

After Midnight
The comets rebel
After Midnight
The coroners yell

After Midnight
A suit made of steel
After Midnight
Its melting reveals

After Midnight
That voice in the back
After Midnight
There’s no turning back

After Midnight
A sacred oath sworn
After Midnight
All memory forlorn

After Midnight
The wheels bend and churn
After Midnight
Lost vision returns

After Midnight
False birth is stillborn
After Midnight
Old vestments are torn

After Midnight
The here and the now
After Midnight
That one sacred cow

After Midnight
Past-Future unseen
After Midnight
  —creation redeemed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Prosthetic language can never fix
  a Poems broken joints

Only inspiration can set
  the break for sure

Crutches and canes to prop up verse
  severely disappoint

Perception falling on its face
  —a crippled lost poseur

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)

Labels,
  crutch for the unenlightened

Support system,
  for the crippled mind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

We are often
  the most critical

Of what we are the
  most guilty of

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2015)

High caliber verse
  the cartridge hand loaded

A new target centered
  all focus then squared

Its barrel’s been filled
  with red molten fury

Whose trigger awaits
  —a desperate will

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Memory is a river,
bound for the sea

One waterfall to cross
  —death’s waters to free

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

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)

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 )

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)

Writing verse,
  my distractions are few

Prose unwritten,
  the Muse importunes

Writing in meter,
  writing in rhyme

Her blessings upon me,
  fortune divine

Spiritual kinship,
  rind bearing fruit  

The flowers to spray,
  the soil to root

Prayers spoken ageless,
  footnotes in time

Words crossing over,
—gift so sublime

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

The Muse in the tower,
  whose debt you enthrone

Those jewels that you borrow,
—her crown still on loan

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

How old were you
   when you were born

Were your pasts or futures
  deemed forlorn

How young will you be
  when you die

As truth cries inward
  —all time a lie

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

The older I get,
  the shorter the lines become

The older I get,
  more welcome is each morning’s sun

The older I get,
  those words rented are now mine to keep

The older I get,
  dreams follow me out of my sleep

The older I get,
  less rules to impose on the game

The older I get,
  hopes and wishes of youth to reclaim

The older I get,
  new laughter recalls what I missed

The older I get,
  all goodbyes now embrace and dismiss

The older I get,
  what I searched for, my searching became

The older I get
   what’s forgotten—remembered again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)