Neither left wing nor right
conservative or liberal,
he goes about his day
Living outside the parameters
of deception,
hell in heavens way
While living as dead
he vanquishes time,
each moment present now
Defying your judgment
refusing to choose
—all limits disavowed
(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)
The past is left in mourning,
the future still unknown
The present disavows them both,
not borrowed—never loaned
(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)
In the commercial age,
money captures time
Depleting awareness
—a prison unto itself
(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)
His final words to the mirror…
“You must now set me free”
All time a reflection
—of what’s never to be
(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)
Is your best friend a dog,
a thesaurus is mine
As yours wags its tail
—mine forever sets me free
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
I go to the city
To be alone…
Distraction
Calling me away
From myself
Isolating my
Memory
Burying my
Thoughts
In endless concrete
Passing 1000 people
Never meeting
One
Never meeting
One
Who will tell me
About myself
Never meeting
One
Who will tell me
What is real
Never meeting
One
Who will ask the question
Why
In my darkest
Most confused
Moments
I go to the city
—to be alone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
I never wrote so you’d approve…
I wrote what I believe
How you felt as you read those words
—is not my wound to bleed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Dreams, like orphaned water lilies,
float across the surface
Ferrying my last token wish,
adrift—this silver pond
The swans make way,
as faith glides freely upon the wind
Carrying my fervent hopes
into this moment, present sent
Their petals weaving in the breeze,
to spin and turn as one
Silhouettes change and soften,
as the mirrored distance calls
Arriving at the far bank,
two children play and laugh together
With pant legs high and feet immersed,
splashing to and fro
Smiling to each other, their laughter
churns a magic torrent
As they reach into its spray,
and take my dream into their hands
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Suspended moments between the lines,
my mind now lost in space
Sublimated syntax buried deep,
my spirit free to race
A light unfiltered, the sound of horns,
my body starts to rise
The ink is calling, my pen in hand,
new words at last—arrive
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
To inflict on tomorrow,
the empty promises of fate
The will to reign indifferent
—the devil’s cruelest form of hate
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
An Anthology Of Perception 