Hitchhiking along a highway
that runs inside my mind
Revisiting the roads I’d crossed
while skirting all the lines
My thumb held high and searching
for what eyes no longer see
Along this path that takes me home
—returning unto thee
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
Being poor…
having no money
Conjoined,
yet not the same
Faith in the wind,
promises born
Wings free
—to be reclaimed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
Attack, attack…
leaving no room for fear
Charging ahead,
driving the past behind
Fate in a coma,
never really dead
Lying in wait
—for that final misstep
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
You can only live
in the time you’re given
The past and the future,
a false consorting
Looking inside and blinding
yourself
—to tomorrow and yesterday
The magic contained within
each fleeting moment
—until it’s gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
Are you bigger in your absence
than your presence could command
Is your memory that much stronger
than your being when at hand
Does the legend of your fancy
stretch the truth of what you’d done
The imagined and embellished
—a false legacy becomes
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
The right to remember,
the right to recall
The right to uncover,
the right to forestall
The right to nostalgia,
the right to look back
The right to remember
—the right to retrack
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
Fear, the ghost of indecision
where darkness stalks each day
Confusion our ignoble master,
bewildered we fall prey
Terror caught in nightly doldrums,
the walls start closing in
As choices wait our will to answer
—or die this fate within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2020)
The thrill is gone, but its memory remains
in flashes that come in the night
The names have all changed, but faces stare back
forsaken, denied by the light
The thrill is gone, but its price still to pay
whose absence weighs heavy and long
The reasons left truant, excuses to reign
in darkness—my soul to belong
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2020)
The bigotry of isolation,
prejudice of despair
The future in your rear window
—abandoned beyond repair
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July: 2020)
With distance in his voice,
he traveled on the wind
Guitar case for a saddle,
to ride each beckoning whim
A folk tale left untethered,
his melody to claim
Each song an affirmation
—his legend to refrain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2020)
An Anthology Of Perception 