I think like a Buddhist,
but pray like a nun

I see like the mountain,
but reach like the sun

I stand like Gibraltar,
but rage like the sea

And love like a child
—reborn unto Thee

(1st Book Of Prayers: May, 2017)

I think like a buddhist
but pray like a nun

I see like the mountain
but reach like the sun

I stand like Gibraltar
but rage like the sea

And love like a child
—reborn unto Thee

(First Book Of Prayers: May, 2017)

Fighting his very nature,
conflict raging inside him again

Feelings demand what thoughts can’t command
—neither enemy nor friend

(Dreamsleep: September, 2019)

Caught within the membranes
of a lost tomorrow,

time stood still

No sound, no sight, no
fresh vibration,

as eternity waits

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)

My girlfriend has a girlfriend
as pigeons flee the roost
Pronouns crying God knows what
knots are coming loose

I was my girlfriend’s boyfriend
when lines unblurred defined
My love abeyant, Limbo’s child
—left here misaligned  

(Villanova University: June, 2022)

Most of our lives are lived
in an in-between world…
yesterday and tomorrow the bookends
to what has happened
and what is yet to come
ordering the mayhem in an artificial attempt
at unity and control
escape becomes an option for the very few
who no longer believe in the prescriptive banner,
the forecasted promise,
the dogmatic challenge
—or the printer’s ink

(Dreamsleep: October, 2020)

A man loses his father
and adulthood begins
Bathwater draining
the baby within

A son who is sireless
new destiny’s child
Whose choice is to run
or to stand and beguile

Alone with his memories
one image sustains
The voice but a whisper
its spirit reclaimed

To carry the title
his lineage holds
A surname retendered
—new history untold

(The New Room: July, 2023)

Whisking away tomorrow in a velvety breath
—to write once more

(Dreamsleep: April, 2020)

Is a poem ever really done,
can the last word not begin

The Angels voting lines impearled
each phrase into a hymn

Is a poem ever given back,
to whom the words behold

Each letter turned into a string
—a harp of heaven's gold

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

The curse of the writer
woo’s angels and devils
Chasing the daylight
far into the night

Each phrasing an omen
of hope or foreboding
With lines that entangle
— in lost delight

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)

Lip Service

We speak of truth, our souls delight,
but actions prove us wrong

If words alone could make it so
—each day would end in song

(University Of Pennsylvania: May, 2021)

There's just a set number
of poems to write

And writing the last,
I’m done

To die but alone,
with my words as the pall

Breathless verses
—left unsung

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

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 a deserted no-mans land

With your mind and spirit sinking
  —in a literate quicksand

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

The voice of my enemy,
the loudest of truths

With death as the arbiter
—to win or to lose

(Dreamsleep: March, 2021)

If life is
purposed
rich and wide
verse is your reward

A written
portrait
left behind
— called to meet the Lord

(The 1st Book Of Prayers: January, 2024)

Living on the surface,
  dinner’s always served at eight

Living on the surface,
  pride forever casts your fate

Living on the surface,
  things always seem just fine

Living on the surface,
  plays an endless pantomime

Living on the surface,
  the church contains your soul

Living on the surface,
  your religion swallowed whole

Living on the surface,
  things never change that much

Living on the surface,
  you can only look, not touch

Living on the surface,
  the wheel only spins one way

Living on the surface,
  each spoke a mortgage pays

Living on the surface,
  love professes in a vow

Living on the surface,
  real commitment not allowed

Living on the surface,
  new doors stay locked and shut

Living on the surface,
  your reentry self-destructs

Living on the surface,
  your reflection flat and clean

While just below the surface
  —beats the heart of what things mean

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Ordinary moments
for ordinary people,
living inside the dream

Like comfortable shoes,
a dog that won’t leave you,
treasures to esteem

Ordinary moments
for ordinary people,
the rest to scratch and claw

To get to a place
they’ll never find
—condemned to hem and haw

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)

A truck driver passes through
a hole in the sky

His rig self inclusive,
his load staying dry

Eighteen wheels of redemption,
the manifest signed

Delivery as promised
—his docking sublime

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

Does your secret life
define you
An image
not portrayed
Brush strokes darkened
pigments dyed
Your life force
oft betrayed  

Do the secrets
keep you prisoner
Are the bars
each choice you make
The key to freedom
lost and gone
Alone with your
— mistakes

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)

Where are you headed...
the waitress asked me at breakfast

Where have you been to...
I responded in kind

Never down to the Canyon,
though I’ve always meant to go there

I’m headed to the Canyon
—now go quit your job

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Will is the executive …
intellect advisor
Choice as a marriage
the two must condone

Committed and daunting
with guideposts of knowledge
Marching in tandem
— pursuing the truth

(Dreamsleep: April, 2024)

I’m a poet devoid
of Cliff Notes
dissection
not my thing

Don’t ask me
to explain my words
I’d rather hum
and sing

Explication
penniless
in ghettos
of the word

Where vagrants
pull and tear apart
what only should
— be heard

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: January, 2024)

A demon’s playing
but no one’s listening
Black whirlwind coming
tomorrow hissing

The moment christened
in dark despair
Entrapping vision
beyond repair

A mantra chanting
its rhythm waning
Despoiled virtue
with time refraining

Unmasking Hoder
in blind respite
The god of darkness
—and lost delight

(Dreamsleep: August, 2023)

Behind on my rent…
the door slamming behind

A beggar of memories,
doomed to remind

Last boxcar of hope
on a railway of dreams

From here to tomorrow
—trapped in between

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)

You won’t get better
with age

Or turn more experience
into a higher art

By heading back down,
never reaching the apex

To where you first started
—your eyes turned away

(St. David’s Pennsylvania: April, 2020)

Dying
in perspective
The cart
within the horse
The end a
retrospective
When running
— your last course

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)

I’ll rue the day,
I can’t write angry

I’ll rue the day,
not alone with myself

I’ll rue the day,
the questions all answered

I’ll rue the day,
thoughts no longer felt

(Dreamsleep: May, 2020)

The past is a foreign homeland,
familiar yet strange

Where memories limits walk the line,
and crossed—exceed our range

(St. David’s Pennsylvania: April, 2021)

Are you lost inside nostalgia,
blinded by its call

Self convinced the past is king,
old romance to enthrall

The facts proclaim much different,
in science and the arts

Awareness of what we’ve become,
the most illusive part

What you bought for fifteen dollars,
that CD with thirteen songs

Now can buy the music world,
Ipod’s carry on

The doctor’s diagnosis,
beyond mere life or death

An MRI can then confirm,
and protons will arrest

The scope of human nature,
to hold on and not let go

Ties us to a bill we’ve paid
—resent from long ago

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

What is it you know
what does anyone know…
The sand through your fingers
the wind through the years
Last season unturned
the snows of our summer
The answers autumnal
—the valley below

(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)

You linger outside
always questioning why
when the answer’s inside
where uncertainty dies

Your world of approval
and life of acclaim
provide little comfort
when there’s no one to blame

You told me it mattered
you told me you cared
but as glad handers turn
almost nothing got shared

So, I’ll stay in the moment
inside looking out
knowing what I’m in search of
leaves no room for doubt

As your memories die silent
no one to hold dear
what’s lost to remembrance
—abandoned in fear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2021)