My heart belongs to providence,

   as I walk that final mile

My footsteps bought and paid for,

   when I clear the last denial

My faith is bold and steadfast,

   a new rain begins to fall

Through the fog a horn is blowing

   the gate open—Gabriel calls

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

        From ‘The Book Of Prayers’

Is life about how many

  or then about how much

Is the truth in computation

  or in what those numbers touch

Is the measurement empiric

  with a final answer shown

Is salvation in the lyrics

  with the word count still unknown

Is there faith inside the mystery

  that mere reason can’t abide

Is there something deep inside you

  that excuses cannot hide

Is there a wind that blows indulgent

  carrying an echo from before

With a voice that speaks the loudest

  the one you listen to—reborn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Wrapping letters around

  the conflict

A war played out

  with words

The fury of shouted

  diction

Slaying enemies still

  unheard

Shooting vision

  into the onslaught

Attacking silence

  as legion’s advance

Loading insight into

  the canons

Killing emptiness

  —with a warrior’s chant

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

I sold my soul

  for new meter and rhyme

Trading salvation

  for a thing greater still

The joyful embrace

  of one hell damning phrase

Living immortal, perpetual

  —fulfilled

I sold my soul

  as the Devil laughed

Knowing not, my final words

  were for him

Exposing his lie

  and his legions of hate

With my last breath

  —Divinity’s hymn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Fusing thought with emotion,

  words come to life

Images eternal,

  feelings ignite

Lines play in concert,

  all stanzas to meet

My psyche impassioned

  —my spirit complete

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

When my words are read

  by the common man

No higher praise could

  any writer stand

Awards and cheer

  from the seasoned elite

Pale when measured

  against those ‘in the street’

As I’m embraced

  by those ‘salt of the earth’

My spirit lifts,

  and I’m home from my search

Steadfast and loyal,

  their voices repeat

No more could I ask

  —no more could I seek

(Villanova Pennsylvania: Watching the New Hampshire Primary- February 9^th, 2016)

You can wish and hope for a hundred years,

  or play the game a day at a time

You can focus on what’s at the end of the road,

  or squeeze three nickels from your very last dime

You can pray for still more than some others might have,

  or be thankful for what lies at your feet

You can love in the face of jealousy and hate

   —or start downward on hell’s one-way street

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

To live within the moment,

  and write as love does now befriend

      “Light shining brightest as

         hours grow short”

A beginning reunites with

  the journey’s end

       “Memory imploding

          on fate’s retort”

A window reopens,

  my heart beats faster still

      “Epiphany’s march

         neither to nor from”

To be saved in a final breath,

    one last line to say I will

      “The past and future

          left exposed—undone”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Your head’s in the sand,

  the canary at hand

The coward inside you,

  his kingdom commands

Mired in apathy,

  lost in denial

One last Armageddon

  —the price of your wile

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

A hemorrhaging madness…

  wounds bleeding again

Old stitches have broken

  death marking the end

Unsutured indemnity

  ensuring your pain

Flesh burning in enmity

  —uncauterized shame

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)