Its answer never welcome…
“The Price Of Joy Is Pain”
The question forever mired
—in perpetual disdain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Its answer never welcome…
“The Price Of Joy Is Pain”
The question forever mired
—in perpetual disdain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The ‘Deceivers Of Time
Masquerade Ball’
Invitees file past
Yesterday in drag,
Tomorrow disguised
Today—the Present’s mask
Memories hide
in the shadows of hope
All wishes dancing fast
Until the Jester laughs
as the final waltz ends
Deception to the last
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Can you write a
celibate Poem
Devoid of flesh
and fevered sounds
Can your verse restrain
from lusting out
Its words still virgin
—yet passion bound
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Can consciousness be compressed
like a distant Black Hole
Into a photon and travel away
Coursing into the darkness
at the speed of light
Reality curving and swaying
With entropy chasing
and time not around
Each Dwarf Star awaiting its fall
The one last dimension, thought lost
and now found
A new portal—unlocked to enthrall
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
No lines are crossed
in getting to the sea
Only excuses
—buried in the sand
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Her voice provided cover,
my soul to turn away
Her message greatly treasured,
her protection my dismay
Her intention of the purest,
but she raised me more than sound
Into the dark I send her words,
exposed—my spirit found
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
If life is a giant crossword puzzle,
how many blank spaces do you have
How many words have come together,
how many crossroads in your path
Each grid connects with meaning,
what row by row unfolds
The story then, the story now
—that square by square is told
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Complex messages
need a simple structure
Otherwise,
a reader is lost
The shorter the word,
the greater the meaning
Its judgment by value,
never by cost
‘The straighter the blade,
the sharper the edge
‘The sharper the edge,
the deeper the cut
‘The deeper the cut,
the more fatal the wound
‘Victory certain
—the truth bleeding free’
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
What value, if any, does Poetry have
—if not to speak the truth
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The ethics of duplicity,
the killing on trial
One law for the criminal,
one law for the child
The electric chair savage,
womb murder refined
Academia, the father and mother
of crime
To lie when convenient,
truth’s babies to cry
An Einstein, a Lister, a Shakespeare,
denied
Through dark inhumanity,
their spirits to roam
Living deep in our consciousness
—our souls theirs to own
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)