Averting

his death

reborn

in a dream

Time

had been stopped

the Reaper

unseen

 

Escaping

the end

his fancy

came true

Beginning

and ending

unbroken

— anew

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

All that awaits

are the memories

All that’s left

still unclaimed

All that I treasure

lay buried inside

All in those choices

— unmade

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

Searching

for his palette

the painter

wanders on

Dreaming

of each color

to visualize

his song

Tubes of paint

lie scattered

unsqueezed

their caps remain

In attics

of blank canvasses

with images

— unframed

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

Walking across

a college campus

classes done till Fall

I hear those lessons

never taught

on winds that truth recalls

The questions that we

used to prize

now locked away in files

To favor dogma’s

jagged edge

— in deaf self-serving bile

 

(Villanova University: July, 2025)

Trying to make some sense of it all

but ready to begin

my exit from this fated tryst

with baggage worn and thin

 

One last goodbye is all I leave

for you and you alone

who held me through the darkest nights

— my home away from home

 

(Villanova University: July, 2025)

There’s a place

in time

of no return

where you’re destined

for the end

 

A ride

straight down

with no reverse

to break

no longer bend

 

A final stop

on Hades

train

where devils

wait in line

 

With all

new couplets

in the flames

and nothing

— left to rhyme

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

Anticipation ends

as creation begins

Before chasing the words

you must first know the wind

Direction predestined

on zephyrs ordained

Each gust but a phrasing

of verse unproclaimed

 

A breeze or a tempest

in a cyclone of hail

In sunshine or clouded

they come to regale

Those moments that matter

that time would suspend

Once spoken eternal

— and Aether defends

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

Beginnings

unending

Each moment

befriends

Untethered

unfettered

Intuity

mends

 

Connection

in motion

Where starts

never stop

Time lost

in fruition

From bottom

— to top

 

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)

Jezebel

the racehorse

with wolves

she was found

To run

in the daytime

by moonlight

she howled

 

Her stable

was cave like

her food

freshly killed

Smart jockeys

won’t ride her

no matter

how skilled

 

In May

was The Derby

with roses

askew

As trainers

and grooms

stood in fear

at high noon

 

She had

to be victor

or hell

would arrive

With Jezebel

eating

the winner

— alive

 

(Rhymes From The Nursery: July, 2025)

 

Great men

stand taller

than the countries

they serve

Honor

and courage

the bureaucrats

scourge

To sacrifice

self

without

question or pause

And champion

the weak

in defense

— of their cause

 

(Independence Hall: July, 2025)