She promised me tomorrow,
  stealing all my yesterdays

A future blackened with her lies
—the present gone astray

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

Living for the weekend
  dying for the end

One more lost beginning
  —goodbye my closest friend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

I said no to the man,
  and made my own bed

I cut my own trail,
  with eyes straight ahead

In debt to myself,
  but thankful to all

My words freely spoken,
  their verdict my call

I beat my own rhythm,
  on multiple drums

I structured the lyrics,
  to sing and to hum

The nighttime began,
  what the mornings forgave

A living refusal,
  my back to the grave

The years have renewed,
  all memories collide

What was old, what was young,
  the truth and the lies

A comet yet burning,
  new verse in the sky

One word still an orphan,
  and homeless,
   —‘GOODBYE’

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 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)

A voice goes silent
  in the distant wind

No tracks to follow
  no path within

Muses cry
  as shadows fade

Their chorus faint
  with dreams unmade

The past abandoned
  tomorrow gone
  
This moment orphaned
  the night so long

Goodbye tomorrow
  farewell today

All hope now fleeting
  —time castaway

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2018)

Becoming totally involved
—while keeping your opinions to yourself

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

Becoming totally involved
  —keeping your opinions to yourself

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

A briefcase full of sorrow…
   the hiding place of tears

One trade to end all others
   excuse to lie and steal

The papers hide the story
  all documents in vain

As grief belies the glory
  —of a life that deals in pain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)

‘Sermon to the choir….’
  the writers group sat motionless
  with their heads down

‘Sermon to the choir….’
  they listened for their instructor
  to announce—“your time starts now”

‘Sermon to the choir….’
  they tried to imagine what they had never seen
  while wondering about what they couldn’t know

‘Sermon to the choir….’
  the writers group then raised their heads
  and packed their grief to go

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

We can all think
  differently

While instantaneously feeling
  the same

We can politically straddle the
  great divide

While below loving the canyons
  and plains

We can put all prejudice and
  opinion aside

When the outcome is cast
  zero-sum

And in those moments our greatness
  calls loudest and true

With the blood of a freedom
  —hard won

(Grantham New Hampshire: March, 2015)