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Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2019
Death at its zenith,
  the other side of life’s goodbye

Eternity waiting patiently,
  to welcome us inside

Always the dark misnomer,
  we hold in dread and awe

When really it’s an open door
  —to all we’re searching for

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2019
The speed of a photon,
  the steps of a man

The truth pointing inward
  —where forever began

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2021
Do you draw on the facts
or color with bias
Blurring the truth
—your head in the sand

(Dreamsleep: August, 2021)
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2017
The other side of sorrow
  is joy

The other side of joy
  is peace

The other side of peace
  is forgiveness

The other side of forgiveness
—is love

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
Don’t get ahead of the feeling,
  never forget a memory unlearned

Don’t think and **** the passion enflamed,
  forgoing the moment—all time left to burn
  
  (Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
Trying to be present,
  I gave up the master plan

Sacrificing what’s past beyond
  —reclaiming who I am

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
Nostalgia,
and future wishing

The present
—foreclosing on the past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
As I lay dying,
let go of my hand

Bid me farewell,
my words to withstand

As a last wish,
your love may I take

Into tomorrow
—the past to forsake

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2024
It was January 4th 1778, and once again the General had not slept well. He rose before dawn and as was his practice, he wandered down to the southern banks of the Schuylkill River.  Valley Forge had been particularly cold since New Year’s Day, and he was awaiting any word about new supplies being smuggled out from the friends his Army still had in Philadelphia.

The Congress had recently been moved and sheltered in York which was about seventy miles due West of his current position in Valley Forge.  The British had taken Philadelphia and were rumored to be encamped in the heart of the city.  Many residents had fled the Capitol just before the British arrived.  Fresh off their success at the Battle of Brandywine, they did not receive the warm welcome that they were expecting when they entered the city.  According to European standards, when you capture the capitol city of your enemy, the war is then over.  The problem with Philadelphia however was that this was not Europe — and Washington was no ordinary General.

Standing alone by the river’s bank, the General thought he saw something move in the tall grass to his right.  His first instinct was to draw his cap and ball pistol, but for a reason unexplained, he did not.  He called out in the direction of the movement, but no sound was heard.  As he turned to walk back to his tent, he saw a branch move and heard the same sound again.  Slowly, a figure about six feet tall emerged from the river brush.  As he walked slowly toward where the General now stood, it was clear this was no combatant, either Colonial or British — this was an Indian.

He walked directly up to the now still Washington and extended his hand.  He said his name was Tamani, and he and his people were living on three of the islands located in the middle of the Schuylkill River about two miles East of where they were now. The Lenape were a branch of the Delaware Tribe that had originally migrated South from Labrador.  They had populated almost all of southeastern Pennsylvania and especially those lands that bordered the Delaware River.  

The British had inflicted tremendous cruelty on the Lenape during their march toward Philadelphia and had driven the entire tribe from almost all of their ancestral lands.  The Colonists had been much kinder and had in fact been interacting peacefully with the Lenape back to the time of William Penn.

Tamani spoke very good English, and General Washington knew how to ‘sign.’  Sign was the universal language spoken by almost all of the indian tribes and was conveyed with a complex series of hand gestures.  After Tamani saw that the General could understand his words, he discontinued his ‘signing.’  Tamani told the great American leader that his people had been driven from their native lands along the banks of the Delaware and were now in hiding inside the treeline of three remote islands just a short distance down the Schuylkill.  

They would leave and go ashore every night to hunt pheasant and deer but always be back before dawn so the British scouts would not discover them.  Tamani was bitter and angry about what the British had done to his people, and he was also upset that the British had commandeered many of the Colonists homes in the city. The displaced were now living in rustic shacks along the banks of both the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers, and many of these Colonists were his friends.

General Washington asked Tamani if he had seen any British troops in the last several days.  Tamani said he had not and in fact had not seen any Red Coats any further west than Gladwyne or Conshohocken.   Washington asked Tamani how he could know this for sure.  Tamani said that he and his two sons knew of all British troop movements because there was a secret path on the other side of the river that ran all the way from Valley Forge to the falls at Gray’s Ferry.  Gray’s Ferry is where the British had a built a bridge that floats (Ferry) across the river this past winter, and it was their primary way to cross into the city from all directions South.

Washington was more than intrigued.  He asked Tamani how many members of his tribe knew about this secret trail.  Tamani said just he and his two sons.  Tamani had two sons and a daughter by his wife Wasonomi, but only the two boys had been down the 17-mile trail that paralleled the river on the far bank.  He also said that the trail could not be seen from the water because it was so heavily covered with native Sassafras and Poplars.

The dense brush made the northern bank impossible to see from either a boat or when viewed from a quarter mile away on the southern shore.  By keeping this trail a secret — Washington thought to himself — even the Indians knew that loose words sometimes trump the loudest canon.

Washington told Tamani that the only information he had received was from the few brave horse mounted scouts that had tried to infiltrate the city at night. They would then flee before morning with whatever local knowledge the remaining loyalists to the revolution could provide.  Lately, he had been losing more men than had been returning.  

Tamani told the General that by using the trail, he could pass totally unseen into the city on any night and return along the same route without the British noticing.  From where the trail ended at Grays Ferry, he and his oldest son had climbed the tall poplars and watched British troop movement both in and around the city.  The General now extended his own hand to Tamani and said: I need you to do something for me.

I need you to take me along this path and show me what you have seen. Tamani stood frozen for a moment as if he didn’t believe his own ears.  Here was the Great General of the American Army, the greatest general that he had ever heard of, wanting to make the 17-mile trip to Philadelphia virtually alone and unprotected by his troops.  Washington also told Tamani that he could tell no one of his plan.  

To ensure this, General Washington took the plume from his Tricorn Hat and presented it with great ceremony to Tamani.  He said: Tamani,  you and I are now brothers, and we must keep between us what only brothers know.  Tamani sensed the importance of the moment and handed Washington a small pouch from the breechcloth he was wearing.  Inside was the Totem of his family’s ancestry.  It was a small stone with a Turtle inscribed on one side and a spear on the other.  The General took the stone in both of his hands and placed it over his heart.  Both men agreed to meet again along the river’s bank at dawn of the second day.

For most of two days, Washington thought about his narrow escape at Brandywine and how these British had menaced him all along the Delaware River to this isolated field so far from where he wanted to be.  He had heard from one of his own scouts that there was British dissension within some of Howe’s troops, but he wanted to see firsthand what he might be facing.  At daybreak on the second day, he walked to the riverbank again.  This time he again saw no life or activity only a small fox with her yearling kits heading down the steep bank to drink.  

After twenty minutes, the General turned to walk away when he heard a whistle coming from the same bush as before.  He approached cautiously and there stood Tamani, but he was not alone.  He had two young men with him that looked to be about a year apart in age.   These are my two Sons, Miquon and Yaqueekhon, Tamani said, as he pointed downriver.  It is just the three of us who know the way along the river that leads to where your enemy sleeps.  Washington greeted both young braves by touching them on both shoulders and then turned to Tamani and said:.  I would like to take the path to the British, and I would like to take it tonight.

Tamani said that he and his two sons would be ready and waiting and that they could leave as soon as the sun was down.  Washington said he would like to leave earlier than that and that he would meet them where the river turns when it is the deer’s time to drink.  During the winter months that would roughly be 4:00 in the afternoon.   With that, the three native men turned away and disappeared into the trees.

Tonight, Washington would alert his men that he would be working and then sleeping at the Isaac Potts House, (better known as Washington’s Headquarters), instead of in his field tent which was his usual practice. He needed to be alone so he could slip away unnoticed along Valley Creek to where the Schuylkill turned and where he would then meet his three new friends.

The General had been spending most of his nights with his troops sleeping in his field tent high atop Mount Joy.  It was here that he was provided with the best views to the east toward Philadelphia.  He had felt guilty about sleeping in the big stone headquarters with the comfortable bed and fireplace for warmth when so many of his men froze.  Tonight though, there would be no sleep and no guarantee of what the morning might bring.  

With all the risk and challenge set before him, he approached it like every battle he had fought up until now.  This would be a fight for information and one that just possibly might allow him to formulate a timetable and a plan for his next attack.  He lit the candle in his bedroom window — as was his practice — and locked the door from the outside.  He then slipped out the side door of the big stone house and headed for the bank. It was now 3:45 in the afternoon and already starting to get dark.

As the General arrived at the bend in the river he saw two canoes pulled up on the bank and covered with branches of pine.  Standing off in the trees, about fifty feet from the two craft, were Tamani and his two sons.  Tamani greeted Washington as his brother.  He explained that they would take the two small boats downriver for what the whites called five miles, and then cross to the other side to begin their walk.

Washington was in a canoe with the older of Tamani’s two sons Miquon.  They paddled quietly for over an hour until Tamani ‘signed’ back something that Miquon quickly understood. From where they were now, on the right (south) side of the river, he signaled for them to head directly across the Schuylkill to the bank on the far side.  This was what the Delaware Tribe had always referred to as Conshohocken.  

As they reached the far bank, Tamani’s two sons quickly hid the canoes in the underbrush.  As Washington started to walk toward Tamani, Miquon took a satchel out of the first canoe and handed it to the General.  For your feet, said Miquon.  Washington opened the satchel and found a large pair of Indian leggings with Moccasins attached at the bottom.  These will help you to walk faster, said Tamani, as Washington sat on a log, removed his boots, and strapped them on.  In two more minutes, the four men were walking east on the hidden trail just ten feet from the north bank of the Schuylkill River.  They had 12 miles still to go, and the surrounding countryside and river were now almost totally covered in darkness.

I say almost, because there were a few flickering lights from lanterns on the far southern bank.  The four men listened for sounds, but heard nothing, as the lights faded and then disappeared as they progressed downstream.  Miquon told his father that they needed to get to the British War Dance before the moon had passed overhead (roughly midnight), and his father grunted in agreement.  Washington wondered what this British War Dance could possibly be but figured that he would wait for a more appropriate time to ask that question.

For two hours, the four men walked in silence.  The only sounds that any of them heard were the breathing of the man in front and the ripples from the approaching current.  The occasional perch that jumped in the dark while hunting for food kept them alert and vigilant as they continued to visually scan the far bank. The going was slow in many places, but at least the terrain was flat and well worn down.  Someone used this path on a regular basis, and the General couldn’t help but wonder not only who that might be but when they had last used it.

Tamani stopped by a large clump of rocks at the river’s edge and reached behind the smallest of the boulders.  He pulled out a well-worn leather satchel and laid it on the ground in front of the other three men.  Miquon reached inside and handed a small ball which was lightly colored to the General.  Pinole, Miquon said as he placed it within Washington’s open hand. Pinole, you eat, Miquon said again.  Tamani looked at the slightly perplexed General and said, Pinole, it’s ground corn meal and good for energy, you eat!  With that, the General took a bite and was surprised that the taste was better than he had expected.  

They lingered for no longer than five minutes on the trail and were again quickly on their way.  Washington marveled at the speed and efficiency of his Indian guides and again thought to himself: "The Indian Nations would have been very hard to beat if they could ever have come together as one force.  We could learn much from them."

The moon was almost directly overhead when Tamani raised his right arm directing the others behind him to stop.  There were lights up ahead and voices could now be heard in the distance.  Tamani told the General: One more mile to ferry crossing.  With that they proceeded at a much slower pace while increasing the distance between each man.  Tamani and Miquon had made this trip many times, but this was the first time that Yaqueekhon had been this far.  For Washington, the feeling of being back in his beloved Capitol, coupled with his hatred of the British, had his senses at a high level.  He felt an acute awareness overtake him beyond that of any previous experience.

Looking across the river toward ‘Grays Ferry’ reminded Washington of the many times he had played along the Rappahannock River in Virginia as a boy.  He moved to ‘Ferry Farm’ in Virginia when he was still young and when his father Augustine had become the Managing Partner of the Accokeek Iron Furnace.  Those days along the Rappahannock were some of the happiest of his life, and he secretly longed for a time when he could mindlessly wander a river’s banks once again — but not tonight!

Miquon now pointed to a tall clump of trees directly ahead.  They were right along the river’s edge and there were large branches that protruded out as much as twenty feet over the water.  Tamani said: We climb.

From this location, the four men climbed two different trees to a height of over forty feet.  Once situated near the top they secured their packs, looked off toward the North, and waited.  From this position they could clearly see Market Street and all of the comings and goings in the center of town.  Washington noticed one thing that gave him pause … he didn’t see any British soldiers.  Tamani told the General in a hushed tone that almost all of the soldiers were in German’s Town (Germantown) with only a small detachment left in the center of the city for sentry duty and to watch.

Why Germantown Washington asked?  This had been the site of our last battle, and he was surprised more troops had not been positioned in the center of town to protect the Capitol.  Too much food and drink, Tamani said.  It took Washington a minute to process the words from before. The British War Dance.  The Indians also had a sense for satire and irony.

                               The British Had Been Celebrating

Is it possible, the General wondered, that the British could still be celebrating their last victory at the Battle of Germantown, and could they have let the King’s military protocol really slip that far? Washington knew that General Howe was under extreme criticism for his handling of the war so far, and there were rumors that he might now be headed back to England to defend himself before parliament.

                                    When The Cat’s Away …

Washington’s impression of what he was now facing immediately changed.  He believed he was now charged with defeating a British force that had tired and lost faith in the outcome of the war.  In their minds, if capturing the new American Capitol had not turned the tide, and men were willing to freeze and starve in an isolated woods rather than surrender, then this cause was almost certainly lost. In that mood they decided to party and celebrate in a fait accompli.

                           A Revolutionary ‘Fait Accompli

For three more hours, they observed Philadelphia in its vulnerable and seemingly de-militarized state.  Many of the houses were empty as the residents had left when the outcome of the Battle of Brandywine was made known.  Washington closed his eyes, and he could see Mr. Franklin walking down Market Street and talking with each person that he passed.  He then saw a vision from deep inside of himself showing that this scene would be recreated soon.  The British couldn’t last in the demoralized state that they were now in. He knew now that it was more important than ever, for he and his men, to make it through the rest of the long cold winter, and into the Spring campaign of 1778.

Washington signaled to Tamani that it was time to go.  Before he left, he asked if he could borrow the Chief’s knife.  After climbing down the big poplar, he walked around to the side of the tree that was facing Philadelphia and inscribed these immortal words  — WASHINGTON WAS HERE!

All the way back along the trail, Washington was a different man than before.  If he had ever had any doubts about the outcome of the war, they were now vanished from his mind.  He asked Tamani and his two sons if they would continue to monitor the trail for him on a weekly basis.  They said that they would,and would he please keep their secret about being encamped on the three islands in the middle of the Schuylkill River.  They also pledged their help as scouts, in the coming spring campaign, against what was left of the British.

Washington pledged both his secrecy and loyalty to the Lenape Tribe and continued to meet with Tamani along the banks of Valley Creek until the winter had finally ended.  The constant updating of information that Washington had originally seen with his own eyes allowed him to formulate a plan that would drive the British from the America’s forever.  He was forever grateful to the Lenape people, and together they kept a secret that has remained unknown to this very day.

With all the rumors of where he slept, or where he ate, there is one untold rumor that among Native People remains true.  Along a dark frozen riverbank, in the company of real Americans, the Father of Our Country stalked the enemy. And in doing so …

                                            He walked !



Kurt Philip Behm
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
Is there a direction to the universe,
  without the polar caps

The equator gone as space expands,
  looking forward—looking back

Does today become tomorrow,
  as tomorrow self destructs

Are the questions left by law unasked,
  when the answers run amuck

Can our thoughts be put in limbo,
  can our feelings lead the way

To what is known beyond the light,
  illusions cast away

And if just this moment matters,
  and the prophets all were right

The doorway back to who we are
   —in dreams we’ll dream tonight

(Haverford Pennsylvania: June, 2019)
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2019
Stepping stone Nirvana,
a pathway through the maze

Temptation churns between the stones
—each tread fruition laid

(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2018
If you can take your own
  breath away

   —and then the breath of others

You will live in a world of
  magic and dreams

  —with the shortest pathway home

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2019
If you can take your own
  breath away
  —and the breath of others

You will live in a world of
  magic and dreams
  —the shortest pathway home

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2022
When what in essence changes
the ground beneath you shakes
No longer can you take for granted
four plus four is eight

When daylight turns to madness
each shadow undermines
What faith has borne and left forlorn
—clocks no longer chime

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: September, 2022)
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2016
Splashing on the fragrance
  of what your betrayal
  has left behind

The perfume of your silence
  lingers,
  —in scented feelings without words

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2011)
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 Mar 2024
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)
A mouthful
of hate
A bullhorn
of lies
Dissected
infected
With terminal
pride
Conscripting
the fledgling
Embedded
in brine
Indicted
convicted
True felons
— of time

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2024
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)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 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)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2024
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 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 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 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 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 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 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)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
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)
The Pride And The Longing

One man’s ‘Old Days’
another man’s ‘New’
Chasing a memory
the pilgrim is due

One reminisces
what one only schemes
The pride and the longing
— two sides of a dream

(Ardmore Pennsylvania: June, 2025)


Shades Of Gray

Mixing wheat
with the chaff
The good
with the bad
In shadings
of gray
The truth
finds a home

Taking shape
from the whole
When shunning
both ends
Polarity’s
vanish
And clarity
— shown

(Ardmore Pennsylvania: June, 2025)
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)
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