Some men remain conflicted,

  some men are justly bad

Some men are deemed to stay confused,

  some men forever sad

Some men will strive for fortune,

  some other men for fame

Some men will choose to be alone

   some live their lives in vain

Some men will cast their seeds

  upon a desert hot and dry

Some men will start to questioning,

  forever asking why

Some men to wile their time away,

  lamenting where its gone

Some men to live entire lives,

  not knowing right from wrong

Some men will cry when milk is spilt,

  some men pick up the glass

Some men to try a different ilk,

  molasses hardening fast

Some men will try to say hello,

  wrapped in a last goodbye

Most men will die alone in bed

  —forever wondering why

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)

Politics brings out the worst in us,

  if in doubt—turn on the news

The denominator sinking low,

  false prophets in the pews

All lust for privilege, fairness damned,

  as old as man himself

Truth getting buried inside the deck,

   as the bottom card gets dealt

Politics poisons and spoils the well,

  leaving the common good to drown

Our animal natures, where dog eats dog

   —power for sale by the pound

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

Don’t talk to me about form,

  when the feeling isn’t there

Don’t talk to me about substance,

  when experience is rare

Don’t talk to me about insight,

  when reflection is ignored

Don’t blaspheme an epiphany

  —in the presence of the Lord

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

I don’t like money

I like freedom

And in this new

Millennium

It’s hard to have one

 —without the other

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Are your words predictable,

  are the feelings staid

Is the truth rehashed,

  the same pavers laid

Is your verse now tired,

  its veneer worn thin

Whose mask barely hiding

  —the emptiness within

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)

The logic in morality,

  lay hidden in the math

The danger in neutrality,

  an unwillingness to act

The numbers tell the story,

  as no Poet ever could

Their truth the final glory

  —in values time withstood

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

My deal with the future…

  my debt to the present

My deal with the present…

  —my debt from the past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

I look at the money,

  asking—what’s it all mean

From the toys to the honey,

  and the years in between

I look at the statements,

  as my love takes a bow

Thanking God my abatement,

  although late—came about

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Unchained from the structure,

  enslaved by the words

My voice to the wind

  —freeing silence unheard

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Without religion,

  where would we hide

What would be our reason,

  could souls justify

What would excuse the killing,

  cleaning deaths stain away

What would forgive tomorrow,

  for the sins of today

Without preaching dogmatic,

  what weight to our words

While unbaptized inside us

  —awaits the true Lord

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)