The World Rose

The world sneezed,

the demon danced

—the music stopped in time


The world coughed,

the demon choked

—millions now entwined


The world hid,

the demon searched

—new victims running low


The world rose,

the demon dead

—nowhere left to go


(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)


Rat-a-tat, Rat-a tat-tat,

the mice crawl through the walls


You hear them best when lights are low,

the cat still yet to call


Rat-a-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat,

straight up and overhead


The world they know—the world you know,

conjoined but never bred


Rat-a-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat,

your solitude a ruse


What lies inside beyond plain sight

—a kinship to bemuse


(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)

Surrendering To The Muse

Putting up the white flag,

laying down my gun


Turning my back on fantasy,

projects left undone


Unlike other enemies,

she’s neither front nor back


But lives where only she can go,

where color turns to black


Her voice becomes a mimic,

ventriloquist of my soul


As words come uninvited,

their letters rhyming whole


Resistance now is futile,

my nights pass sleep deprived


Mercy vacant, her voice my own

—all victory denied


(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)

Blankets Of Doubt

Ovarian, Breast, Pancreatic, or Lung…

there’s a look that is shared the same


And staring straight into the eyes of time,

all promises gone and reclaimed


Each moment borrowed and leased from your fear,

 the walls crashing one by one


Tonight no longer a sleep guaranteed

—under blankets of doubt unsung


(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

In Search Of The Cream

Is someone profiting on your wishes and dreams,

renaming your parade


Like a thief in the night they steal every wish,

their own life at best a charade


Is someone else cashing the check you just wrote,

to pay for their larcenous schemes


Has your good name been kidnapped, indentured, enslaved

—as you curdle in search of the cream


(Rosemont College Pennsylvania: March, 2020)