Author: Kurt Philip Behm

I am a lifelong author with 21 books published to date—one best seller. Much of my writing is about the deception of time and its many disguises. My Poetry 'An Anthology Of Perception,' is now available in four volumes. In addition I have a 175 page Poem 'After Midnight,' that was published in 2014. My Historical Fiction series, 'The Sword Of Ichiban' is now up to volume 8 which is being published this Spring ... Vol #1- The Sword Of Ichiban Vol #2- Darkening Sun Vol #3- Revenge Along The War Trail Vol #4- Death From The Sky Vol #5- Jumping Into the Darkness Vol #6- The Fall City Mandate. Vol #7- Approaching Storm Vol #8- Brothers In Blood One autobiographical novel, 'The Death Of The Playground' a Best Seller, published in 2007. One travel novel, 'Searching For Crazy Horse,' published in 2005, recapping my forty years of motorcycle touring in the American Rocky Mountain West. I have written one Children's Book, 'Sammy & Bumpers' that was published in 2016. All of my books are available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and better Book Stores world wide. Kurt Philip Behm

The Music Stops

The jaws sing

As the drip, drip, drip,

Of the petroleum chorus

Dances across

The inverted aluminum

And the hissing starts

And the hissing stays

Its smell a warning

A final omen

Like the last rose

Of summer

Or the fragrance she wore

For that final goodbye

The teeth tear inward

Like the regret for today

And the regret for yesterday

And the lament for tomorrow

Its promise broken

And your khakis red

And baptized

A stigmata

To self infliction

As the music plays constant

And the rushing you feel

An emptying of sorrow

Onto the crushed ceiling

Of a dream in reverse

Of all life in reverse

Until two arms grab you

And you fall from the sky

And you fall from the sky

Waiting

For the ground

To coronate the outcome

And for one more answer

To a ‘why’ unquestioned

And to love you one more time

But the lights are now dim

And the voices muffled

As an organ can be heard

And store bought flowers smelled

And an old woman cries…

As a young woman cries…

And a stranger pronounces

What you feared the most

They didn’t know you

And couldn’t know you

The exit sign flashing

But there is no door

“There Is No Door”

  —and then the music stops

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

 

The Lie

Your arms lift me up,

  as your words take me down

 

And I’m caught in-between

  your smile and frown

 

Your eyes making promises,

  your words yet to keep

 

My spirit in limbo,

  my heart left to weep

 

A soul now in turmoil,

  my mind double dealt

 

As your fear and your passion

  collide

 

What’s to be known,

  and what’s to be felt

 

Is it your words or your actions

  —that lie

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Unbaptized Words

Certificate unsigned,

  pen firmly in hand

 

The bliss not for barter,

  its insight free-stands

 

Faith and acceptance

  may go where they please

 

To my grave and beyond,

  the verse teaches and frees

 

No savior I ask for,

  forgiveness I shun

 

Redemption for others,

  new ink on the run

 

Till one day uncovered,

  hidden deep on the shelf

 

A message unchristened,

   buried dark and unfelt

 

Where the voice I was gifted,

  and the music I heard

 

In themselves live forever

  —free unbaptized words

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

 

Remembered In Time

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,

  the journey became clear

   —destination in mind

 

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,

  my words tunneled inward

   —their meaning sublime

 

Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,

  free of the ramble

   —heartbeat aligned

 

 Writing in meter, ending in rhyme,

   the feeling immortal

    —remembered in time

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

 

Its Reckoning Comes

Is God to interpret,

  and religion the why

 

Is forever too heavy

  to pledge bye and bye

 

Does the Devil provide balance

  to a concept in stone

 

Is he laughing inside us,

  mocking all that we know

 

Is the Lord left to children

   and those purest of heart

 

Is all truth chained to symbols,

  has its lock come apart

 

Are the years there to change us,

  is each day meant to count

 

Are the scriptures worth hearing,

  if belief has to shout

 

To those fanatics among us,

   yes, you know who you are

 

A power looms distant,

  beyond testament’s scar

 

Its claim staked by no one,

  its icon’s unseen

 

And its reckoning comes

  —when you wake from this dream

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

A Vow To Myself

I asked for your blessing,

  instead you explained

 

What I should be paying

  to garner acclaim

 

You told me if only

  I’d do it this way

 

My words could have meaning

  and influence—sway

 

But power and fortune

  are not what I sought

 

If influence only

  gets brokered and bought

 

So the blessing passed over,

  no bribery done

 

A last vow to myself

  —from you I must run

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)