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

Your Original Sin

What’s that you’ve settled for
What’s that you say
From the library of excuses
You reason away
It seems almost this
But never quite that
As the present escapes
And you look further back
No comfort to take
In that notch on your gun
As you fire in vain
And continue to run
But you say it’s enough
It will then have to do
You repeat what’s been spoken
Never anything new
And you look for a club
Others thinking the same
To plead their excuses
Blaspheme and profane
But alone in the vestibule
A soul fires away
And speaks about life
And its maxims today
His message reoffered
But again you look back
The last sinners you follow
Leaving motherless tracks
Your life now committed
To the lies that you’ve told
And your headstone engraved
With letters that scold
Once eternity beckoned
With your eyes looking up
And drawing its strength
You drank from its cup
But that story’s been told
You’re alone in the ground
Scant little reminder
You were ever around
As your bones become dust
To be reclaimed by the wind
Those excuses you trusted
—your original sin

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)

To Finish This Song

What mountains have you climbed
What valleys have you fallen into
How many hearts have you broken
How many lies have you told
How many days have been wasted
How many sorrows have been shared
How many promises have been made
How many strangers did you love

What mountains have you climbed
What valleys have you fallen into
How many deserts have you roamed
How many times have you been lost
How many friends can you count on
How many enemies still fear you
How many lines need to be written
—to finish this song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)

Too Mine To Pay

My road deeply potholed
  with those left behind

Resurfaced with pain
  all casualties mine

A road often fatal
  to family and friends

No roses to line it
  as it twisted and bent

When forced to look back,
  I see nothing but blood

From my hands to the cradle
  on those that I’ve loved

If you ask me my reason
  for acting this way

With eyes straight ahead,
  I’d have nothing to say

The road getting shorter
  compressed in the light

Behind me those bodies
  that questioned my flight

The deeper I travel
  newer endings begin

This toll mine to pay
—heading further within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)

Soul To Repast

In reference to nothing
Alone with itself
The truth burns in fury
Damnation to melt
Its legions are many
Believers so few
The stragglers all freezing
And lined in the queue
The mirror the liar
Death hiding within
The priest the deceiver
Who threatens with sin
But truth holds dominion
Setting fire to the throne
Rising above and beyond
What’s self-righteously known
It calls to you silent
As it calls to you loud
Do you hide in the shadows
Or answer back proud
That thing that you reference
From your prison within
Those things done in deference
Now caught in the wind
You lie as you bargain
You cheat and defame
One voice now your jailer
And calling your name
Your back to the altar
You hide in the pew
Before robbing the poor box
A new low for you
Your history tarnished
And legacy shot
Your name ill-begotten
From all you are not
But truth has no time stamp
No ticket to claim
One choice will release it
Life starting again
Your mortal days finite
You have to act fast
Will you ask for redemption
—your soul to repast

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)