My words are a saxophone,
my phrases a drum
My stanzas a keyboard,
my rhyming a gun
The Muse is my bullet,
the readers a shield
The darkness my target
—its bullseye revealed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)
My words are a saxophone,
my phrases a drum
My stanzas a keyboard,
my rhyming a gun
The Muse is my bullet,
the readers a shield
The darkness my target
—its bullseye revealed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)
“The Wicked Flee When None Pursueth,”
proverbs tells us so
The righteous stay in judgment’s light,
to harvest what’s been sown
Those prodigal delinquent souls,
that life has cast astray
Walk free the line tween right and wrong
—till fate will have its say
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)
Letter to letter once estranged,
they mate in open air
Copulants of a thought unloved,
vowels conceived in pairs
An alphabetic orgy,
the first word falls in place
Darkness changing into light
—all silence to replace
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
Does memory store from front to back,
or more like side to side
Do childhood dreams seem closer now,
than yesterdays goodbye
Does memory scorn all month and year,
a dimension of its own
Remembering best what matters most
—defying time enthroned
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
Is the fire escape of love
still open
does it go both up and down
will it rescue you from the flames
of possession
promising only exit
never refuge from the heat
Is the iron railing molten
as you step out on the landing
is the air too hot to breathe
as you take that one look back
is the smoke
a cloud that follows
your feet melting into sorrow
is that voice you’re hearing through the blaze
—the love you’re running to or from
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
Prose on one side, verse the other
—distance in between
The bridge has burnt, the Muse now two,
each seeing only green
The breaths that flow are then contained,
no synergy allowed
The fathoms deep between their words
—whose river both endows
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
Deadly to his enemies,
confusing to his friends
While faithful to his writing,
all justified intent
Furious in times of war,
in peace his vision burns
But past the fray, inside his verse,
a gentler spirit yearns
Salvation long then sacrificed,
a fate he can’t deny
A cross that’s left for him to bear,
but still his spirit cries
Through battles mostly devil sent,
and victories sealed with death
This guilt the price he’s had to pay,
now felt with every breath
But one last wish he prays out loud,
one cry is sent above
“My spear, my pen, my joie de vivre,
I trade all back for love”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
I know what you are,
but only you know who that is
I know what you said,
but only you know what that means
I know how it looks,
but only you know how it feels
I know when you’re missing
—but only you know when you’re gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)
Running from everywhere,
nowhere to go
Your mask in place
—forever alone
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
The enemy of my enemy
—masquerading as my friend
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)