Like a moth to the flame we journey,
forever wondering why
Never knowing what but only where
—our destiny on fire
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
Like a moth to the flame we journey,
forever wondering why
Never knowing what but only where
—our destiny on fire
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
Can imagination be taught,
or intuition defined
Can wishes be repackaged
as hope
Can children rekindle
a dream never fired
Can the past and future
reverse
Can what is and what isn’t,
forever be
Can a savior fall victim
to faith
Can tomorrow choose the past
over today
Can the reasoned excuse
die from intent
Can the moment once noted,
forever last
Can there be language
with vision denied
Can the wisdom of sages,
in playpens be found
Can the answers unquestion
—themselves
(University Of Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Do our actions create
the reality we see
Do our eyes and our will
fashion what we believe
Is the dimension we look at,
the one we take in
Do our choices control
—what our senses begin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Sketching with words,
the ink starts to run
My page self-invaded
—its image undone
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
Are consciousness and memory linked,
if so to what degree
Do thoughts control what knowledge seeks,
does reflection hold the key
Remembering back through sense of self,
trying to define
If what is past now lays the track
—that underwrites our mind
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Is consciousness emergent,
or de facto zero sum
Is what we know about ourselves,
a walk or more a run
A lion knows to chase a deer,
but not the reason why
The truth inherent in abstraction,
lost upon the fly
As man continues onward,
his psyche then will grow
Until surpassing all he seeks
—and all existence shown
(Villanova University: January, 2020)
To pierce through the surface,
none sharper than words
A vowel like a razor,
to shave undeterred
Each letter a saber,
that strikes to the heart
All phrases an arrow,
your will to impart
Once spoken, each edge
is eternally honed
To cut through deception,
and carve into bone
The blood trail that follows,
all sages can track
Incisive, unsutured
—the truth turning black
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
I did not create the Poetry…
the Poetry created me
Each word I wrote from heaven sent
—on wings to set me free
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
Don’t give away the best part of yourself
to structure
Don’t organize yourself into
spiritual oblivion
Keep the magic of the instant
close at hand
And the gateway to eternity
—will remain open and pure
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Boring…
that thing most fatal to become
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)