I never chose to live among you,

and choose to die alone

 

My thoughts in writing here beside me

—last verse my ticket home

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Do you synthesize your anger,

do you cauterize the burn

 

Do you anesthetize the wonder,

as your dreams are drugged and scorned

 

Is your judgment tempered badly,

with emotion fiery hot

 

Is your vision colored madly,

by your choices—sold and bought

 

Does your music play reclusive,

do your words fall off the page

 

Does ego kill your last excuse

—that mask you can’t explain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

It’s those desolate interludes

that create the new space

 

For our souls to exhale

—and our dreams to escape

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Seventeen children

on a highway to hell

 

Thumbs out—noses down,

perdition rings their bell

 

Seventeen children,

their backs now fully turned

 

The piper calls them blindly

—their futures scorched and burned

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

The tailored line,

bespoken Poet

 

With needle sharp,

to hem and sew it

 

Where thoughts as threads,

stitch out as whole

 

Whose words once seamed

—contain my soul

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Where fixes the point of no return,

fixes the point assured

 

Where fixes the point of no return

 —it’s there you’ll find thy Lord

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Memory of light,

vision of God

 

Centered return

—orbit of love

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)