Reborn

Is life about how many

  or then about how much

 

Is the truth in computation

  or in what those numbers touch

 

Is the measurement empiric

  with a final answer shown

 

Is salvation in the lyrics

  with the word count still unknown

 

Is there faith inside the mystery

  that mere reason can’t abide

 

Is there something deep inside you

  that excuses cannot hide

 

Is there a wind that blows indulgent

  carrying an echo from before

 

With a voice that speaks the loudest

  the one you listen to—reborn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

A Warrior’s Chant

Wrapping letters around

  the conflict

 

A war played out

  with words

 

The fury of shouted

  diction

 

Slaying enemies still

  unheard

 

Shooting vision

  into the onslaught

 

Attacking silence

  as legion’s advance

 

Loading insight into

  the canons

 

Killing emptiness

  —with a warrior’s chant

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Divinity’s Hymn

I sold my soul

  for new meter and rhyme

 

Trading salvation

  for a thing greater still

 

The joyful embrace

  of one hell damning phrase

 

Living immortal, perpetual

  —fulfilled

 

I sold my soul

  as the Devil laughed

 

Knowing not, my final words

  were for him

 

Exposing his lie

  and his legions of hate

 

With my last breath

  —Divinity’s hymn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

No More Could I Seek

When my words are read

  by the common man

 

No higher praise could

  any writer stand

 

Awards and cheer

  from the seasoned elite

 

Pale when measured

  against those ‘in the street’

 

As I’m embraced

  by those ‘salt of the earth’

 

My spirit lifts,

  and I’m home from my search

 

Steadfast and loyal,

  their voices repeat

 

No more could I ask

  —no more could I seek

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: Watching the New Hampshire Primary- February 9th, 2016)

Life

You can wish and hope for a hundred years,

  or play the game a day at a time

 

You can focus on what’s at the end of the road,

  or squeeze three nickels from your very last dime

 

You can pray for still more than some others might have,

  or be thankful for what lies at your feet

 

You can love in the face of jealousy and hate

   —or start downward on hell’s one-way street

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

Fate’s Retort

To live within the moment,

  and write as love does now befriend

 

      “Light shining brightest as

         hours grow short”

 

A beginning reunites with

  the journey’s end

 

       “Memory imploding

          on fate’s retort”

 

A window reopens,

  my heart beats faster still

 

      “Epiphany’s march

         neither to nor from”

 

To be saved in a final breath,

    one last line to say I will

 

      “The past and future

          left exposed—undone”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)