The words flock together
and stretch on the frame
Their meaning runs over
still wet from the pain
The canvas is porous
the easel maligned
The curtains blow outward
faces calling in mime
The streets all a-chatter,
it was Paris in spring
And striving to look busy
the most important of things
Looking back at my window
above the tannery so high
A shadow stares back
—and I flee in disguise
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
A literary sociopath…
Hemingway wrote
Both gifted and tortured,
his words they provoke
A verbal combatant
with battles foretold
His last the most fatal
—all memory on hold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Was there ever a rebel
on the inside looking out
By definition he’s outside
—his legend to shout
The insurgent, his tactic
playing Russian Roulette
Holding the status quo hostage
—with fear and regret
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
We are never
so afraid
As when frightening
ourselves
That face in the mirror,
the one that won’t leave
A shadow looming over
—eternity’s sleeve
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Will there ever come a time
when time doesn’t matter
Will there ever come a date
when the days won’t connect
Will there ever come a phrase
its words devoid of meaning
Will there ever come a song
whose melody won’t play
Have you let what you celebrate
turn into celebrity
Has your message been transformed
into a billboard or sign
Have you become a caricature
of a free and lasting symbol
Have your words become mere chatter
—in your pandering for fame
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The older I get…
the closer I become to the things I can’t see
The older I get…
the more I’m amazed by the things that surround me
The older I get…
the longer the nights and the dreams that they bring
The older I get…
empty words falling mute—each new season to sing
The older I get…
those women that I loved I now carry inside
The older I get…
that child I once was to return with a smile
The older I get
the deeper I embrace the reason I’m here
The older I get
each moment a gift—with its vision so clear
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)
Darkness, the beginning path
spawns brightness at the end
Storm clouds over a troubled youth
division on the mend
Struggles, trials, and failures past
just fuel to keep you warm
Sagacity, the final truth
—eyes seeing through the harm
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Every book has a hundred messages
trying to get out
Every song has ten inside of it
waiting to sing loud
Every painting has a hidden image
fighting to be shown
And every poem has a secret voice
—dying to be known
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
There are stages you run to
and from stages to hide
The performance of a lifetime
or the shame that will chide
There are actors in character
and actors on loan
One change in direction
—and all meaning has flown
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The great American Songbook
whose words march off the page
Its music now a footnote
—to a century of rage
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
An Anthology Of Perception 