“When staring death in the face…

   never look back over your shoulder”

(From My Novel: ‘Death From The Sky’)

Is the artist in me a liar,

  or the one who walks outside

Are my words and deeds in conflict,

  which to breathe and which to hide

Would King Solomon have an answer,

  to this split I often feel

Would salvation hold my name in check,

   as today my soul to deal

Do excuses, like good intentions,

  pave the way, perdition shown

Do the reasons then abandon,

  idle hope when left alone

Can the spirit claim what time has lost,

  in it’s quest to stay inspired

Can the truth once lit inside my heart

  —set all kindled lies afire

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

My pen would be dry if the world

  were the only cry for more

But Laura’s voice from within,

  asserts with solemn command

Kindling my eternal fire—stoking the

  questioning cord

Burning away the doubt

  —turning me back around

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

An apostle of verse,

  a peasant of prose

To inspire divine,

  to explain—Heaven knows

(Wayne Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

It’s you I like…

Not your lifestyle

Not your sexual preference

Not your political persuasion

Not your skin color

Not your nationality

Not your choice of religion

Not your lineage

Not your wealth or poverty

   —it’s you I like

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

I hate the ‘Body

Politic’

Whose wave blasphemes

and grows

I battle to swim against

its tide

Or be abandoned in its

flow

I hate the way it stunts

my voice

‘Old Dominions’ chosen

side

I hate the fact—it’s hate

I feel

With the truth a captive

lie

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Inspired By My Friend & Poet Neal Hall   

Did you edit away the fire,

  in your attempt to be correct

Do your words make you a liar,

  as they break and disconnect

Is that order you chased after,

  now a deserted no-mans land

With your mind and spirit sinking

  —in a literate quicksand

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

The most important things don’t need a reason

  —just because

The falling leaves beyond their season

  —just because

The sun trades the night to the rising moon

  —just because

The lateness that brings one last final adieu

  —just because

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Copyright 2016 Kurt Philip Behm

There’s a hope that exists beyond reason,

  like the refrain of a well written song

There’s a tragedy entrapped in each season,

  where right is still captive of wrong

There’s an Angel waiting to take you to heaven,

  across that river of torrent and pain

Where true joy in the act of forgiving

  —washes guilt completely free of its stain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

I harbor a mean spirit

but not in my soul

He roams through my

consciousness as havoc and pain

Trying to break through

to that place where he’s banned

Trying to break through

to where my innocence lives

Again and again he forces 

his will

But it all goes for naught  

and he waits till I sleep

Where Laura’s on guard

in my dreams to protect

With insomniac hell

he still tries to invade

Her will ever stronger

than his fleeting advance

Each night he comes knocking

as she turns him away

Until with mocking futility

he warns me at last

In words that are cursed

and bathed in disgust…

“You can run to your Muse

  and hide if you wish

“But temptation and trial

  are served from my dish

“Go be safe in the womb

  but remember outside

“When you leave her protection

   —there is no place to hide”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)