Author: Kurt Philip Behm

I am a lifelong author with 21 books published to date—one best seller. Much of my writing is about the deception of time and its many disguises. My Poetry 'An Anthology Of Perception,' is now available in four volumes. In addition I have a 175 page Poem 'After Midnight,' that was published in 2014. My Historical Fiction series, 'The Sword Of Ichiban' is now up to volume 8 which is being published this Spring ... Vol #1- The Sword Of Ichiban Vol #2- Darkening Sun Vol #3- Revenge Along The War Trail Vol #4- Death From The Sky Vol #5- Jumping Into the Darkness Vol #6- The Fall City Mandate. Vol #7- Approaching Storm Vol #8- Brothers In Blood One autobiographical novel, 'The Death Of The Playground' a Best Seller, published in 2007. One travel novel, 'Searching For Crazy Horse,' published in 2005, recapping my forty years of motorcycle touring in the American Rocky Mountain West. I have written one Children's Book, 'Sammy & Bumpers' that was published in 2016. All of my books are available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and better Book Stores world wide. Kurt Philip Behm

Are You Living Now

Is there always one verse

  you still have yet to write

 

 And if not—what’s the point

  of it all

 

Are you the repository of

  all you have felt

 

Or the dealer and merchant

  of lies

 

Are your thoughts tattooed onto

  your immortal soul

 

With your feelings exposed

  or held back

 

Are the words disconnected

  from the ink in your veins

 

Do you live within

  all that you’ve said

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

Only Man Knows

Without there being  

A God

I could never question  

His existence

Through the power of  

The question

Divinity shines

Do birds question?

Do apes question?

Do flowers question?

Only man questions…

 —and only man knows why

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Whose Words Meant All

I’ve never had a friend who didn’t hurt me,

 I’m told that’s just the price of getting close

 

I’ve never had a friend to not desert me,

 it’s always been the thing I hated most

 

I’ve never had a friend who crosses over

 that line so far away and growing thin

 

I’ve never had a friend that I could count on

  —whose words meant all to me but not to him

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

 ‘Comments From A Homeless Man In Las Vegas’  

                    August, 2017

Now Heaven Shone

At eighteen,

 I thought that I could write my way to heaven

 I’d waltz right in, announce my name, and sit

 down on its throne

 

At twenty-five,

 I sat in jail to rot in isolation

 my freedom gone, my will deformed,

 but worst of all alone

 

At thirty-five,

 I thought that I could write my way to riches

 the screenplay bombed, all doors were closed,

 and wounds there freshly mined

 

At forty-eight,

 I met a man who told me I was lost

 “By Looking Out The Words Won’t Come,

 Your Truth You’ll Never Find…”

 

By fifty-five,

 my path was set—all trails converged as one

 the entrance closed, the exit marked,

 a road of denser stone

 

By sixty-eight,

 all verse within, the lines reset to music

 the darkness gone, my words set free

   —all light now heaven shone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Last Chariot

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 the night has a thousand eyes

 

The music fades, past dance is done

  the future’s siren cries

 

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 all prophecy would say

 

Your father deaf, your mother blind

 bequeathed of both you pray

 

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 last chariot at the gate

 

New flames have come, the beating drums

 the lots have cast your fate

 

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 one choice to leave or stay

 

Deception fore, with lies behind

  —time killing either way

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)