All history must we study,

but not enslave ourselves

 

As we forge on in tribute

—intrepid to foretell

 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2019)

Are you lost inside nostalgia,

blinded by its call

 

Self convinced the past is king,

old romance to enthrall

 

The facts proclaim much different,

in science and the arts

 

Awareness of what we’ve become,

the most illusive part

 

What you bought for fifteen dollars,

that CD with thirteen songs

 

Now can buy the music world,

Ipod’s carry on

 

The doctor’s diagnosis,

beyond mere life or death

 

An MRI can then confirm,

and protons will arrest

 

The scope of human nature,

to hold on and not let go

 

Ties us to a bill we’ve paid

—resent from long ago

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

In the land of my once fallow youth,

old phrases bury deep

 

Where seeds of time regrow the rhyme

—their crop my soul to keep

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

The power of induction,

truth insecure

 

Foundations and principles,

whispered demure

 

We take that next leap

from uncertainties throne

 

To leverage our doubts

—from what’s presently known

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

The color of trouble

—the smell of goodbye

 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2019)

We searched through the desert

for a welcoming sign

 

But the truth was a grave marker

—our fate so inclined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

 

Can talking about things,

ever make them real

 

To describe and define,

what we then try to feel

 

A mirage of old theories,

their masks on display

 

Do ideas have substance

—beyond what we say

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

Outside the backdrop of the given world,

the emptiness fled

And deep in the recesses of what’s never to be,

contradiction fed

Far beyond meaning and stated intent,

all reasons turned to dust

With nothing to prove and less to embrace

—the laugh at last on us

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)

Old memory written,

new words to a song

 

Forgotten, remembered

—sung once and then gone

 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2019)

Intellectual hygiene…

the Poet declines

 

That dull antiseptic,

that deadens your mind

 

Once washed and then scrubbed,

the truth a charade

 

Academic consensus

—the Muse in her grave

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2019)