She stole your heart
  without asking,
  —leaving only a dream to chase

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Only a Poet…
  can change feelings into air,
  begetting a new feeling

Only a Poet…
  can transform thoughts into verse,
  birthing a new thought

Only a Poet…
  can define the indefinable,
  words meaning more than their letters allow

And only a Poet can stab time in the heart,
  to bleed free and eternal,
  —only a Poet

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)

You want to define poetry,
  behind the safety of your bars

Open the door to your cage,
  a world awaits, where feathers tar

Dusty journals and ‘how-to’ books,
  no longer serve you here

One price of admittance,
  the acknowledgement of fear

With words only as strong
  as the impression they leave,

And feelings only as sacred,
—as memory retrieves

(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)

There are many voices,
—but the truth speaks only for itself

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

I’m a Type A Poet,
  literarily incorrect

In the company of fools,
  my pen goes for their neck

They sing to the choir,
  while we cry and spill blood

Their trash in the fire,
  their lies in the mud

The things that we struggle with,
  just folly to them

As their dilettante pleadings,
  ramble on and pretend

Their self ******-analysis,
  and the time that they steal

Turn to dead broken promises,
  masking what they can’t feel

The thing they most run from,
  we welcome inside

As they tunnel and burrow,
  trying harder to hide

And their one greatest fantasy,
   for us never to know

That their self-proclaimed mastery
   —was at best just a show

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

My eyes overloaded
my tongue in duress
—I have to say I love you in a poem

Time of no consequence
my heart in distress
—as my pen becomes timeless and flowing

This moment is yours
its memory mine
—as the lines are unspoken but true

To tell you just once
what forever I’ll feel
—in these words written only for you

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2018)

The cusp of brilliance
  can still be controlled

While genius can neither
  be coaxed nor cajoled

Being still on the fringe
  keeps one foot on dry land

But when totally immersed
  —only God can command

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

The Dreamer….
  only he can see the journey’s end

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

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)

I’m now covered in dirt,
  but the words are still clean

A vision half dried,
  their stains running deep

The sinners and saints,
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection they share,
  --- tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses,
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets,
  from a brothel once scorned

And as I lie in the shadows,
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free,
  --- to the heavens now stamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

I’m covered in dirt,
  but my words are still clean

A vision half dried
  with stains running deep

With sinners and saints
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection we share
  tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets
  from a brothel once scorned

As I lie in the shadows
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free
  —to the heavens restamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

I’m covered in dirt,
  but my words are still clean

A vision half dried
  with stains running deep

With sinners and saints
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection we share
  tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets
  from a brothel once scorned

As I lie in the shadows
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free
   —to the heavens restamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

There are many futures
  —but only one past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

There are many futures,
—but only one past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Utopia belongs to the fleet of heart,
  but the truth
   —only to the brave

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Utopia belongs to the fleet of heart
  but the truth,
  —only to the brave

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

You can’t alter reality
  with an opinion

You can’t alter reality
with a drug

To alter reality, you must force
  time upon itself

Defining the indefinable,
—leaving only what is

(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)

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 feelings they wrought bright

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,
  now 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 into song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Golden Hair

It was Christmas 1973,
as I straightened up his brace

A disabled body with unconquered mind,
best friends in different states

As she walked straight down the cellar steps,
my future in her glance

Dressed pure white, she’d come from work,
her clothes did then enhance

The beauty in her heart and beyond,
with one look did reveal

As she walked half down the thirteen steps,
sitting sideways to conceal

All lovely strewn and golden haired,
with eyes both blue and sharp

Her face a lovely countenance,
my light now through the dark

She looked at me dismissively,
and feigned a smile weak

As if to say without the words ...
you fall short of what I seek

She’d heard the rumors in disbelief,
and got up to turn and leave

I followed to where her mother stood,
and with her help did I then plead

I said that night to myself alone,
that if one thing I shall do

I will marry this girl with the golden hair,
as God has made so few

A lifetime now passed, then half again,
she still looks at me that way

Not hiding the love she feels inside,
until my dying day

No words then gleaned or ever built,
for feelings such as these

My pen now empty and eyes stare blank,
at what my heart can only see

To love her once was not enough,
yet no more was I allowed

My chest so small for that so big,
her golden hair my cloud

If I was blessed with just one wish,
and knew it to come true

Just one more day with golden hair,
—whose love so fine and new

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February 17, 1978

Playing in the front window
  of your affection

My love became a storefront
  for all to see

Displaying what my heart
  had kept well hidden

Priced to sell, and tagged
—on sale for thee

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

Between the lines
You read my story
The pain I felt
You washed in glory
New letters rose
The words reformed
As Angel’s marched
With time forlorn
On Satan’s grave
A vesper bell
Salvation rings
—all lies in hell

(Philadelphia Pennsylvania: June, 2014)

Between the lines
  you read my story

The pain I felt
  you washed in glory

New letters rose
  the words reformed

As Angel’s danced
  with time forlorn

On Satan’s grave
  a vesper bell

Salvation rings
  —all lies in hell

(Philadelphia Pennsylvania: June, 2014)

Have you done enough
Have you seen enough
Have you loved enough
  —until an Angel sings

And the Heaven’s sigh
Your last goodbye
Your last goodbye
  —on spoken wings

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2015)

Beyond academia
  its cause and effect

Lies a power inherent
  above judgment and theft

Atop its ivory tower
  and smothering vine

Consensus is trembling
—with truth on the line

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Beyond academia…
  its cause and effect

Lies a power inherent
  above judgment and theft

Atop its ivory tower
  and smothering vine

Consensus is trembling
  —with truth on the line

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

The rhyme,
  my consort

The meter,
  my friend

The music,
  my mistress

On whose love,
—I depend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Say it...
  without overstating it

Mean it...
  while feeling it more

Live it...
  as a mantra then gifted

Transcend it...
  on wings from before

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

Are you judging from halls
  academic

Or from places where words
  cannot hide

Are your hours immersed in
  false reference

Or in a visceral pursuit
  that defies

All bias and excuse
  living tethered

In an ivy green mansion
  enthroned

While truth and beauty
  run together

Through open fields
  —that no pundit has grown

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Are you judging from halls
  academic

Or from places where words
  cannot hide

Are your hours immersed in
  false reference

Or in a visceral pursuit
  that defies

All bias and excuse
  living tethered

In an ivy walled mansion
  enthroned

While beauty and truth
  run together

Through open fields
   —that no pundit has grown

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)