Day surrounds your memory,

  as evening frames your smile

 

But what I most remember

  —is morning in your eyes

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

You stir it one way, and they the other,

  but the mixture stays just as hot

 

You attack their motives, and they attack yours,

  while the contents boil and rot

 

“It needs to be this way”… the other side revolts,

  “Your mind’s faulty with avarice and greed”

 

The pot has simmered; the broth is thick,

  and its bottom not easy to see

 

A mutual exclusion, first left and then right

  a feast—all soul’s consumed

 

With spoon or fork, its offering slick,

  when the bowls come out at noon

 

In single file, day turns into night,

  pointed talk with nothing said

 

Both cupboard’s bare, two rat’s within,

  guarding their last crust of bread

 

When the final story is written and told,

   of what in concert you destroyed

 

A drum will beat, zero-sum complete,

  leaving you soulless—but still conjoined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June,2016)

Written fragments

Broken songs

Stepping stones

To hope beyond

 

Music absent

Long at bay

Vagrant notes

  —last wish to play

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Remembering my Grandfather,

  forgetting my Dad

 

Wanting to be near him,

  paternal influence bad

 

He loved without question,

  his smile blocked the sun

 

And without his embracing

  —my life on the run

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Stopping just short of judgment,

  his mind took a leap

 

Whose soul rose as substance,

  now ready to speak

 

Words before never uttered,

  or spoken in vain

 

This acknowledgement followed,

  crying out in refrain…

 

“The joy in the brotherhood

   all torment by choice

 

 “To share in celebration,

   we alone can’t rejoice

 

 “The critic inside us,

   the judger of sins

 

 “Is best left in silence,

   till it targets within”

 

As time will remind us,

  and these words will recall

 

All biting reprisal

  —the coward’s downfall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

Journalistic integrity…

  give me a break

 

Your lies are on fire,

  there’s hell at the gate

 

Journalistic integrity,

  the wages of sin

 

All truth has been twisted,

  your speech has worn thin

 

Journalistic integrity,

  oxymoron disclosed

 

Two words now in conflict,

  their corruption exposed

 

Journalistic integrity,

  death by your own hand

 

All blame you relinquish

  —your lies to withstand

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Are you a conscious Poet

 with unconscious beliefs

 

An eternity of verse

 crying out from your sleep

 

Are your dreams more important

 than your waking hours show

 

Do they tell the true story

 —of all there is to know

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)