Will the pieces of the life you’ve lived

  come together at the end?

Will the times that you reflected

  straighten your path out, free of bends?

Are the places that you visited

  more than way stops that you chose?

Are the feelings that you left with

  still inside you—heaven knows?

Are your children still in contact,

  do they ask you what you think?

Are your parents long forgotten

  as you pour yourself a drink?

Are the days recounted backwards

  with the best all left behind?

Does the silence serve to haunt you

  with those things you cannot find?

Does the laughter fall on deafness,

  do the smiles pass you by?

Are your friends left off your guest list

  with no time for them to find?

Are the pieces of your puzzle

  pointed sharp, and ill to fit?

Does your conscience wear a muzzle

  with the blame an endless pit?

Is it what you said you wanted

  when you started down this path?

Or are you now among the hunted

  in a bad choice aftermath?

If before you’re gone, one chance flew by

  a difference then to make

Would you hang on tight to all the lies,

  or embrace this change of fate?

And if you do, the words will say,

  you almost got it wrong…

Before you called those choices back

  —and changed them into song

(Grantham New Hampshire: March, 2015)

Manipulating reality,

 the moment concealed

Manipulating reality,

 what’s virtual ‘real’

Manipulating reality,

 the keys push and drain

Manipulating reality,

 technology reigns

Manipulating reality,

 fantasy schools

Manipulating reality,

 apostasy rules

Manipulating reality

 all cursors and screens

Manipulating reality,

 lost memory undreamed

Manipulating reality,

 electrons control

Manipulating reality

 a hard driven soul

Manipulating reality,

 love crashes and burns

Manipulating reality

  —truth cyber unlearned

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)

Long before the clocks ticked,

  the garden was burning

The law had been laid down,

   only the animals ran free

Long before the clocks ticked,

  two lovers were yearning

The power, the struggle

  —the lust to deceive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

From silver to gold,

  the years marched along

As language emboldened

  its words into song

The grey of my twilight

  a welcome relief

All reasoned excuses

  another’s belief

As the winds through the canyon

  blow the valley to sand

This ending now welcome

  —beginning again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

The only defense against fate

 is words

The only answer to death

 —is life

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)

Look with your eyes,

  until you see with your mind

Listen with your ears,

  until you feel what you hear

Laugh with each breath,

  until you smile with your heart

Love with your will

  —until it releases your soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 “Indians have a saying,” she said

    from across the fire…

“Until you have heard the roar

   of the bear

     —you will not know its heart”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

From My Novel: ‘Revenge Along The War Trail’

Refusing to fight the major war,

  the war based on principles,

  the one we can win

We’re forced to fight a never-ending series

  of political wars,

  ones that we can only lose

We’re trapped in the middle of Appeasement River

  and headed for Chamberlain Falls,

  terror awaiting in the rapids now ahead

Slowing down the current or rowing harder wont

  save us, it only extends the time of our demise,

  capitulation pulling us under toward the roar

As a country, we’re now in the middle of that river

  arguing over who has the water rights,

  arguing over whose paddle is best

Until we get off the river and back on dry land,

  Chamberlain Falls will continue to pull

     —and Armageddon will continue to call

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Beyond academia…

  its cause and effect

Lies a power inherent

  above judgment and theft

Atop its ivory tower

  and smothering vine

Consensus is trembling

  —with truth on the line

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

The older I get,

  the shorter the lines become

The older I get,

  more welcome is each morning’s sun

The older I get,

  those words rented are now mine to keep

The older I get,

  dreams follow me out of my sleep

The older I get,

  less rules to impose on the game

The older I get,

  hopes and wishes of youth to reclaim

The older I get,

  new laughter recalls what I missed

The older I get,

  all goodbyes now embrace and dismiss

The older I get,

  what I searched for, my searching became

The older I get

   what’s forgotten—remembered again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)