Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2018
The reason you can change things for the better or worse is because they did not happen in the ‘past’ and will not happen in the ‘future—they happened now, in the ever expanding perpetual present.

You can make up for things that you’ve done, you can lose weight that you’ve gained, you can apologize for hurts that you’ve caused, because you’re still connected to them…in the present moment, not in some isolated disconnected ‘timeframe’ that we mistakenly refer to as the ‘future’ or ‘past.’

You can love someone you’ve never met, or worship a deity exposed from within and beyond because of this connection.  If it were broken, there would be no way to connect—or reconnect—with yourself.  

It seems easy and convenient to compartmentalize large parts of our lives into the disconnected ‘past’ and ‘future,’ but the unreality here is total.  Things only happen in the present.  We cannot escape anything—most assuredly ourselves—by creating these temporal oasis,’ where we deceive ourselves into believing that those places are over and past, or in the case of the future—still yet to happen.  

The only reality is the one that has always been and forever will be—the ever expanding moment of the perpetual present.

The present needs neither to be attacked nor defended—it just is!  It needs only to be lived, as if you had any other choice.  Every motion you perform, every thought you conceive, every feeling you feel, happens only in the present.  

The suspect emotions—guilt and fear—are normally associated with the ‘past’ (guilt) and the ‘future’ (fear).  By fully living within the present moment, the effects of those two emotions are mostly negated.  Our whole concept of management is based on data from the ‘past’ and trying to apply it to the ‘future.’ That data, if you will, only has value when it is experienced in the present.  

Love, as an emotion, can only be felt now.  It can be remembered, and it can be hoped for, but only experienced in the moment of its release.  What are emotions other than the instantaneous celebration of the here and now.  

Dreams, and dream-sleep are the natural connectors where rational thought ends and divine thought begins. The whole notion of contradiction rests comfortably within our dreams, and often within our religious beliefs.

The notion of the Holy Trinity (3 distinct persons in one God) is the bedrock of both spiritual and theological Christian dogma.  It is central to the belief that God exists on more than one level. So does human existence.

Native Americans, Muslims, Christians, and Jews share this common thread in their beliefs.  So often, whether it be Moses, Jesus, Mohammed or Crazy Horse, leaders of their respective tribes went off into the wilderness to receive spiritual enlightenment through a dream or apparition.  Native Americans refer to this as a ‘Vision Quest.’  

The constraints of rational thought are abandoned here (sorry Jesuits), and the notion of contradiction seems as natural and free-flowing as any other thought.  Enlightenment is reached through a higher power, and is not dependent on facts or mistaken empirical knowledge.  Only in these isolated endeavors, away from the confusing and misleading structure of what we call society, can true knowledge occur.

Unanswered questions open up spaces into a new consciousness here, and we do not have to dig our heels in to defend—or pledge allegiance to—facts that can only hold us back, imprisoning us to be something other than ourselves.  

The very thing that causes us to question is the thing calling out to us—from deep inside ourselves—to return. Dreams, once again, become the fastest way to cross this threshold from a fact based unreality to the beginnings of true knowledge within the gifted moment and its perpetual presence.  
  
(Villanova Pennsylvania:  January, 2013)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2022
Robots reason
people think
in counterfactual oxymorons

The equal sign
ironic still
in anti-literal contradiction

A=B
B=C
but D won’t link without reflection

Zero-Sum
with nothing totaled
nondescript—the grand ligation

(Rosemont Pennsylvania: May, 2022)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2020
Science lays the trap,
enlightenment the bait

Tempting with its lies
—eternity a date

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2018
Drunk on the fear of our own misgivings,
  we stagger and stray…
     —toward the sound of the piper

(Grantham New Hampshire: March, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard,
steals emotion from the night

Holding a vigil in the darkness,
waiting for the light

The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard,
among the screams and homeless cries

Making rhyme of what reason has abandoned
—marking time inside the shadow of lies

(Las Vegas Boulevard: January 24, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2019
The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard
  steals emotion from the night

Holding a vigil in the darkness
  waiting for the light

The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard
  among the screams and homeless cries

Making rhyme of what we’ve long abandoned
   —marking time inside a shadows lie

(Las Vegas Boulevard: January 24, 2016)
The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard
steals emotion from the night

Holding a vigil in the darkness
waiting for the light

The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard
among the screams and homeless cries

Making rhyme of what reason has abandoned
—marking time inside the shadow of lies

(Las Vegas Boulevard: January 24, 2016)
The arrogance
of conscription
the blasphemy
of denial

Abraham
shouting high above
to dam
the ****** Nile

We speak with words
deceptive
to try and steal
the peace

As blasphemy
that self destructs
in arrogance
— repeats

(The New Room: March, 2024)
Rural people
self-reliant
vote red white and blue

City dwellers
vote dependent
subsidies anew

People with space
are free to think
harbingers of truth

Leading the way
the pond in sight
— where sits the Golden Goose

(The New Room: July, 2024)
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2019
Democrats run on problems
they contrive

Republicans run on problems
they deny

One as bad as the other,
together much worse

As the status quo suffers
—awaiting the hearse

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)
The mind
its own place
be it heaven
or hell

The soul
but a bucket
to empty
or fill

Goya
a madman
DaVinci
extolled

Sharing
a genius
they fought
to control

Bleed out
the poison
death waits
to reclaim

Or memory
gets buried
and darkness
— remains

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2017
The day you realize it’s a gift,
—is the present you will never give back

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2019
Living within our given time,
happiness
—a present state of mind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2018
To live beyond the moment
Looking out, not looking in
The future lies to the past
  —as the present burns

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2019
Unstop the drain
  kiss the pain
  let nature run its course

Trip the wire
  start the fire
  new vision at its source
  
Time unstrung
  past on the run
  tomorrow lies to all

Hearts open wide
  the moment flies
   —past memory to recall

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2018
Closing the door on my yesterdays,
  tomorrow looked on in pride

Setting the lock on the future and past
  —in isolation they both cried

A Savior instant, the moment supreme,
  as the now both comes and goes

All memory forsaken in times broken dreams
  —as eternal, the present flows

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2019
Writing for tomorrow,
  today is enhanced

Writing for tomorrow,
  my mind and heart dance

Writing for tomorrow,
  my place is affirmed

Writing for tomorrow,
  my name is confirmed

Writing for tomorrow,
  the future reeled in

Writing for tomorrow,
  new moments begin

Writing for tomorrow,
  old crucibles filled

Writing for tomorrow
  —the present instilled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2018
Writing for tomorrow,
  today is enhanced

Writing for tomorrow,
  my mind and heart dance

Writing for tomorrow,
  my place is affirmed

Writing for tomorrow,
  my name is confirmed

Writing for tomorrow
  the future reeled in

Writing for tomorrow
  new moments begin

Writing for tomorrow
  old crucibles filled

Writing for tomorrow
—the present instilled

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2018
Time is speeding out of control
  as life is slowing down

The minutes of my memory
  lost hours going round

My eyelids close, the past on fire
  last vestige still to find

One image flashes bright and clear
  all darkness cast behind

The calendar in ruins
  this moment left in charge

The future marching backwards
—the present looming large

(Burlington, North Carolina: April, 2018)
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
Escape in a Poem,
freedom unchained

Words come alive,
distant sirens renamed

Brevity conquers,
all urge to refrain

As magic unfolds
—the present reclaimed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2017
Escape in a Poem,
—freedom unchained

Words now alive,
  seven sirens renamed

Brevity conquers,
  all urge to refrain

As magic unfolds,
—the present reclaimed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2018
Released from the prison
Of the extended word
Verse offered
Asylum
And a means of escape

Carrying me deep
To where the future-past  
Hides
All time to mislead
—as the present conflates

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2019
I took you into my arms,
to ask about tomorrow

But then you went and stole my heart,
from dreams of yesterday

Reaching deep inside my pain,
you took away the sorrow

All hurt now gone and future spun
—the present here to stay

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
If you always face left,
try once facing right

Stuck deep in the mire,
all truth beyond sight

It’s the questions at hand,
as answers unwind

Past and future a myth
—the present to bind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2016
If you always face left,
  try once facing right

Stuck deep in the mire,
  all truth beyond sight

It’s the questions at hand,
  as answers unwind

Past and future a myth,
—the present to bind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2019
Is blood,
the price of art

Is death,
the price of truth

A rose,
its thorn uncovered

And love
—the price of youth

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2017
Is blood,
  the price of art

Is death,
  the price of truth

A rose,
  its thorn uncovered

And love,
—the price of youth

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2023
(if it’s)

Love me …
hate my writing

(or)

Hate me …
love my writing

I can live with the hate

(Rosemont College: March, 2023)
The more famous
you get
The bigger
— the prison becomes

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2017
They sat around the bar,
  saying:

  “I liked being married

“Except for the part about
   having a husband”

They sat around the bar,
  as their eyes stalked the room

Sniffing for money
—the price of revenge

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2019
This prison I’ve created…
  totally self made

This world I’ve evaded
  the fodder I trade

The reward is the punishment
  for not taking part

Old scars not to heal
  as I wait in the dark

The consensus, the polling,
  all truth on the run

Their shadows of misery
  no day in the sun

The price of the membership
  an eternity black

With dealers and charlatans
  all looking back

This prison I’ve created…
  by rejection self made

This world I’ve evaded
  the fodder I trade

No verity in circumstance
  my horse trails the cart

These bars I look out from
   —a last lonely heart

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2017
Does your structure inhibit
the meaning

Does a smile work to cover your
  pain

Does today mean much less
  than tomorrow

Are your messages forever
  the same

Do you write before feelings
  have woken

The letters pretty, in cursive
  review

When your words leave the pulpit,
  unspoken

Do you retreat to the very
  last pew

Is there refuge as darkness
  encroaches

Locking windows where the sun
  used to shine

Is your format now holding
  you captive

And a victim,
—the prisoner of time

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2017
Are we constantly building
  circular walls,
  —that we feel safe within

Are the threats contained,
  as our minds abstain,
  —in our fortress ‘void of sin’

Does the air we breathe,
  serve to then mislead,
  —forming words that echo back

Now inside a prison
  where we must serve,
  —as ourselves, we then attack

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2022
The politics of religion,
its statues on fire
All martyred saints burning
in canonized pyre

As cardinals of vengeance
seek new hearts to be ******
Inquisitors ramble,
the Creator on loan

The religion of politics,
papal decrees
Guilt laden promises,
salvationists fee

Crusaders on horseback,
twelve Apostles alone
Which is more dangerous,
the Word or the throne

(Chorus)

“Raise the curtain—praise the Lord,
  darkness censures fast
Faith though blind, still hope to find,
beyond iconoclasts

“With eyes wide open, see the light,
all else to render lies
His love unending, given free,
eternal life the prize”


(The New Room: April, 2022)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2019
Dragnetting with the spoken word,
trying to trap what you can’t see

Unbaited, your net cast far and wide,
in a dark and foreign sea

Over and over, you pull in your lines,
with nothing again to show

The prize you seek, swimming wild and free
—at a depth you’ll never know

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2020
Today, I fed a horse still wild,
and asked him with my rhyme

To blaze the silver meteor’s trail,
to where the words collide

I filled him with one final verse,
to sharpen my refrain

And mounted for that one last ride
—to go back home again

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
Religions survive
  through subjugation

Without it,
  they are lost

Wielding guilt as a weapon,
  they proffer salvation

Enlightenment and freedom
  —their cost


(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2019
I discovered this morning
  after all these years,
  that everyone is really different
  from me

Whether rich or poor
  black or then white,
  it goes far beneath the surface
  to see

When I look in their eyes
  only questions stare back,
  as I try to keep my thoughts
  to myself

But along with those thoughts
  comes the promise I bear,
  and its hard to stay up
  on the shelf

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2019
If you finally struck gold
And were digging out the mine
Would you leave it for a month
And come back to what you’d find

That’s the way I feel each day
Being blessed to write verse
The prose insanely waiting
—for my voice to reverse

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2017
If you finally struck gold
And were digging out the mine
Would you leave it for a month
And come back to what you’d find

That’s the way I feel each day
Being blessed to write this verse
The prose insanely waiting,
—for my voice to then reverse

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2018
What if our reasoned language
  can’t provide any answers

  —what if time isn’t real

What if the thoughts that we have
   are embedded distractions

  —what if reflection conceals

What if the feelings engendered
  are like puppeteers strings

  —what if truth doesn't dance

What if the past and tomorrow
  are death to the moment

  —what if it’s all just a trance

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2019
A thing itself is cheap…
its knowledge though is dear

The journey worth a thousand times
—an arrival most unclear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2020
To be,
Or not to be
A Poet…

Who’s to say,
Who’s to know
—who’s to really care

(Dreamsleep: March, February)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2020
Deafening thunder,
cries from down under

Voices of silence
—lost in the wind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2020)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2020
I’ve finally arrived at the point in the race,
where I reach for the baton

All up till now the moment served
—new life embarked upon

(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2018
A ticket lay there waiting
  untold riches bye and bye

The Powerball on Wednesday
  buying freedom with its lies

All barriers seemed broken through
  the world at your command

Perspective dying, hopes run wild
  control spun out of hand

The numbers tell the story
  but the payoff tells the tale

Be careful what you wish for
  —as the raindrops turn to hail

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2018
The world pushes left
  the world pushes right

The middle ground deadly
  a trappers delight

Pigeons take refuge
  as hawks rule the skies

Hunting all charlatans
  —truth in their eyes

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2017
The ribbon is cut
The die is cast
The cement is dry
Yet nothing lasts
The brazen rewarded
The hero a fool
All reason outdated
New fury the tool

A journey presented
Your ship to go far
With doldrums eclipsed
By the light of new stars
The lands will seem foreign
The people most strange
But they’ll smile as you pass
And call you by name
You run and you run
And you run from it all
With no map to guide you
The albatross calls
And then sweet intention
Returns from respite
Rephrasing the unmentioned
Where maybe you might
In fear of the tonic
All healing disdained
Right, left-side disjointed
The cork from the drain
The covers pull back
Your bones are now bare
The tiller is slack
And there’s nobody there
So you take to the helm
Hands firmly in place
And you care not a whit
If it’s all empty space
As a raven is perched
On the yardarm so high
A land bird that lurches
Cawing all truth a lie
And you wonder then maybe
Have you wandered too far
As you ladle the future
From a long empty jar
The wind starts to move
A gift from the moon
What’s whole has been halved
And the sun almost noon
The rigging is creaking
The mast ever tall
The wind has died down
With no new ports of call
The feeling still burns
In the fire within
To find that one thing
That unfound—to you sings
The ocean is flat
The seas become calm
The seasons repeat
From reflection embalmed
The night sky is clearest
The darkest the days
The winds have escaped you
Adrift you now stay
But then just a wisp
Of a breeze on your cheek
Portends of a magic
And the vision you seek
It strengthens and gushes
Throughout all the night
As the red sky last evening
Had hinted it might
As the headsails go up
The big linen comes down
And you climb up the mast
Stepping over a frown
The creak of the lapstrake
Splashes over the bow
The present’s in sight
Incarnate right now
You look down on a lifetime
In this moment of joy
As the smell of the brine
Covers anything coy
And an Island approaches
From the mist up ahead
As the stillness reproaches
And retreats to its bed
The wonder returns
All speculation begins
Of the magic you’ll find
In this newness again
At the top of a mountain
Strange trees then appear
In a shape that’s uncertain
Neither familiar nor clear
The closer you get
The more they seem to move
As their shapes become giant
And your hopes then behoove
Now anchored offshore
With the dinghy in place
You can see them more clearly
Each shape and each face
Like monolithic Gods
They reign high on the hill
Looking down on who enter
With a warning that’s shrill
But where are the people
The Island is bare
Just giant stone carvings
That linger and stare
As you land on the beach
The ground starts to shake
And from deep in your heart
The primordial aches
The mountain then trembles
All paths become closed
With the thunder a warning
Any trespasser knows
As you run to the dinghy
Its been stolen and gone
And your ship is now missing
In its place just a song
Calling out in those words
That you already know….

“A price not paid dearly
     is only for show”

You turn back to the mountain
And in an explosion of light
You’re lifted up to the heavens
Spun around in a fright
Then shooting straight downward
Toward the mountain below
With force you are planted
Along monument row
And now that you’ve joined them
All questions abide
The distance and separation
In heaven collide….

“Can I leave, am I destined
   to be left here entombed ?”

And in language you recognize
You hear back so soon
From those pillars immortal
Voices start to be heard
Your welcome now total
Reborn in their words

“You can leave if you want to
  the choice is now yours
  but this mountain goes
  with you
  all places defer
  you’ve reached
  through the mystery
  you’ve passed your own test
  the tonic’s within you
   —the raven has fled”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2013)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2020
The ribbon is cut
The die is cast
The cement is dry
Yet nothing lasts
The brazen rewarded
The hero a fool
All reason outdated
New fury the tool

A journey presented
Your ship to go far
With doldrums eclipsed
By the light of new stars
The lands will seem foreign
The people most strange
But they’ll smile as you pass
And call you by name

You run and you run
And you run from it all
With no map to guide you
The albatross calls
And then sweet intention
Returns from respite
Rephrasing the unmentioned
Where maybe you might
In fear of the tonic
All healing disdained
Right, left-side disjointed
The cork from the drain

The covers pull back
Your bones are now bare
The tiller is slack
And there’s nobody there
So you take to the helm
Hands firmly in place
And you care not a whit
If it’s all empty space
As a raven is perched
On the yardarm so high
A land bird that lurches
Cawing all truth a lie

And you wonder then maybe
Have you wandered too far
As you ladle the future
From a long empty jar
The wind starts to move
A gift from the moon
What’s whole has been halved
And the sun almost noon
The rigging is creaking
The mast ever tall
The wind has died down
With no new ports of call

The feeling still burns
In the fire within
To find that one thing
That unfound—to you sings
The ocean is flat
The seas become calm
The seasons repeat
From reflection embalmed
The night sky is clearest
The darkest the days
The winds have escaped you
Adrift you now stay

But then just a wisp
Of a breeze on your cheek
Portends of a magic
And the vision you seek
It strengthens and gushes
Throughout all the night
As the red sky last evening
Had hinted it might
As the headsails go up
The big linen comes down
And you climb up the mast
Stepping over a frown
The creak of the lapstrake
Splashes over the bow
The present’s in sight
Incarnate right now

You look down on a lifetime
In this moment of joy
As the smell of the brine
Covers anything coy
And an Island approaches
From the mist up ahead
As the stillness reproaches
And retreats to its bed
The wonder returns
All speculation begins
Of the magic you’ll find
In this newness again
At the top of a mountain
Strange trees then appear
In a shape that’s uncertain
Neither familiar nor clear

The closer you get
The more they seem to move
As their shapes become giant
And your hopes then behoove
Now anchored offshore
With the dinghy in place
You can see them more clearly
Each shape and each face
Like monolithic Gods
They reign high on the hill
Looking down on who enter
With a warning that’s shrill

But where are the people
The Island is bare
Just giant stone carvings
That linger and stare
As you land on the beach
The ground starts to shake
And from deep in your heart
The primordial aches
The mountain then trembles
All paths become closed
With the thunder a warning
Any trespasser knows
As you run to the dinghy
Its been stolen and gone
And your ship is now missing
In its place just a song
Calling out in those words
That you already know….

“A price not paid dearly
is only for show”

You turn back to the mountain
And in an explosion of light
You’re lifted up to the heavens
Spun around in a fright
Then shooting straight downward
Toward the mountain below
With force you are planted
Along monument row
And now that you’ve joined them
All questions abide
The distance and separation
In heaven collide….

“Can I leave, am I destined
to be left here entombed ?”

And in language you recognize
You hear back so soon
From those pillars immortal
Voices start to be heard
Your welcome now total
Reborn in their words

“You can leave if you want to
the choice is now yours
but this mountain goes
with you
all places defer
you’ve reached
through the mystery
you’ve passed your own test
the tonic’s within you
—the raven has fled”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2013)

Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2018
The ribbon is cut
The die is cast
The cement is dry
Yet nothing lasts
The brazen rewarded
The hero a fool
All reason outdated
New fury the tool

A journey presented
Your ship to go far
With doldrums eclipsed
By the light of new stars
The lands will seem foreign
The people most strange
But they’ll smile as you pass
And call you by name
You run and you run
And you run from it all
With no map to guide you
The albatross calls
And then sweet intention
Returns from respite
Rephrasing the unmentioned
Where maybe you might
In fear of the tonic
All healing disdained
Right, left-side disjointed
The cork from the drain
The covers pull back
Your bones are now bare
The tiller is slack
And there’s nobody there
So you take to the helm
Hands firmly in place
And you care not a whit
If it’s all empty space
As a raven is perched
On the yardarm so high
A land bird that lurches
Cawing all truth a lie
And you wonder then maybe
Have you wandered too far
As you ladle the future
From a long empty jar
The wind starts to move
A gift from the moon
What’s whole has been halved
And the sun almost noon
The rigging is creaking
The mast ever tall
The wind has died down
With no new ports of call
The feeling still burns
In the fire within
To find that one thing
That unfound—to you sings
The ocean is flat
The seas become calm
The seasons repeat
From reflection embalmed
The night sky is clearest
The darkest the days
The winds have escaped you
Adrift you now stay
But then just a wisp
Of a breeze on your cheek
Portends of a magic
And the vision you seek
It strengthens and gushes
Throughout all the night
As the red sky last evening
Had hinted it might
As the headsails go up
The big linen comes down
And you climb up the mast
Stepping over a frown
The creak of the lapstrake
Splashes over the bow
The present’s in sight
Incarnate right now
You look down on a lifetime
In this moment of joy
As the smell of the brine
Covers anything coy
And an Island approaches
From the mist up ahead
As the stillness reproaches
And retreats to its bed
The wonder returns
All speculation begins
Of the magic you’ll find
In this newness again
At the top of a mountain
Strange trees then appear
In a shape that’s uncertain
Neither familiar nor clear

The closer you get
The more they seem to move
As their shapes become giant
And your hopes then behoove
Now anchored offshore
With the dinghy in place
You can see them more clearly
Each shape and each face
Like monolithic Gods
They reign high on the hill
Looking down on who enter
With a warning that’s shrill
But where are the people
The Island is bare
Just giant stone carvings
That linger and stare
As you land on the beach
The ground starts to shake
And from deep in your heart
The primordial aches
The mountain then trembles
All paths become closed
With the thunder a warning
Any trespasser knows
As you run to the dinghy
Its been stolen and gone
And your ship is now missing
In its place just a song
Calling out in those words
That you already know….

“A price not paid dearly
     is only for show”

You turn back to the mountain
And in an explosion of light
You’re lifted up to the heavens
Spun around in a fright
Then shooting straight downward
Toward the mountain below
With force you are planted
Along monument row
And now that you’ve joined them
All questions abide
The distance and separation
In heaven collide….

“Can I leave, am I destined
   to be left here entombed ?”

And in language you recognize
You hear back so soon
From those pillars immortal
Voices start to be heard
Your welcome now total
Reborn in their words

“You can leave if you want to
  the choice is now yours
  but this mountain goes
  with you
  all places defer
  you’ve reached
  through the mystery
  you’ve passed your own test
  the tonic’s within you
   —the raven has fled”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2013)
Next page