Writing words of forgiveness,
a bridge from the grave
My ashes unscatter,
my memories reclaim
A verse of atonement,
all steps unto thee
Whose vision, my journey
—from death set me free
(To Mark Phanco-Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Writing words of forgiveness,
a bridge from the grave
My ashes unscatter,
my memories reclaim
A verse of atonement,
all steps unto thee
Whose vision, my journey
—from death set me free
(To Mark Phanco-Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Persuader inside me
dark sweetness cajoling
A talisman dangles
—the present foretold
(Las Vegas Nevada: January, 2016)
Within the tragedy of a broken dream
rages a fiery lost inferno
Where we burn in fearful anticipation
—waiting for the alarm to sound
(Las Vegas Nevada: January, 2016)
The truth came flying out of the mirror,
its reflection veracious and new
And left without warning, my emptiness torn,
heading back to a place out of view
Driving into my eyes an image so clear,
its talon’s spread open and honed
But on wings of silver, it returned fulfilled,
my spirit soaring—free and atoned
(Southwest Flight Las Vegas-Philadelphia: January 27, 2016)
The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard
steals emotion from the night
Holding a vigil in the darkness
waiting for the light
The Poet of Las Vegas Boulevard
among the screams and homeless cries
Making rhyme of what we’ve long abandoned
—marking time inside a shadows lie
(Las Vegas Boulevard: January 24, 2016)
Poetic dyslexia,
the words juxtapose
The meaning in crisis,
where God only knows
Poetic dyslexia,
all feelings collide
Emotions in conflict
—a verbal divide
(Forum Shops-Caesars Palace: January 23, 2016)
Good and bad are truisms…
a qualitative masquerade
Ideology trumping feeling
—in flashes of joy and pain
(Las Vegas: January 23, 2016)
You either bend and adapt,
or then you break
The crux in the motion
—your magic to make
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)
Paved over deep,
my thoughts below
Once brilliant shades
of amber glow
The darkest light,
I now befriend
Whose darkest thoughts,
I sought to end
While further down,
the chanting starts
No mockingbirds,
no meadowlarks
Where stillness reigns,
the present weeps
My ashes cool,
my soul retreats
Lodged six feet under
below the crowd
Though sleep eternal
—no dreams allowed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)
A briefcase full of sorrow…
the hiding place of tears
One trade to end all others
excuse to lie and steal
The papers hide the story
all documents in vain
As grief belies the glory
—of a life that deals in pain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)