The places I’ve traveled,

yet still haven’t seen

 

Those roads that I’ve ridden,

while caught in-between

 

The mileage piled up,

as memory lay stacked

 

Where voices call distant

—my mind to go back

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Truth…

 the first casualty

of war

 

Love…

 the last casualty

of truth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

What good is a poem,

if not to incent or inspire

 

Just flowering verbiage,

growing out of the mire

 

What comes from our verse,

if not truth yet released

 

Each word to enlighten

—our souls to beseech

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

Five thousand sermons,

one point of view

 

The message sole branded

—the damned in the pews

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

Explosion / Implosion,

caught in the din

 

Forces once pushing,

now pull from within

 

The physicist cries,

as the mockingbird calls

 

To see past tomorrow,

today in freefall

 

A binary motion

of polar extremes

 

All consciousness split

—dark hole of my dreams

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

His words in transit,

 world travel unleashed,

the world his page to run

 

Alone in his chair,

both here and then there

—the distance misbecome

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

There’s a haven beyond

all praise and blame,

where true writing can repose

 

All time on the run,

consensus lay shunned

—the truth neither friend nor foe

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

Waiting for the world

to come round to him,

his words got stored away

 

Waiting for time

to admit its mistake,

the needle in the hay

 

Lying in wait

for a moment reborn,

distilled in silence aged

 

The devil in fear

of the truth coming out

—eternity restaged

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

Writing to a standard,

embattled in time,

his words both sparse and dire

 

All targets in sight,

his focus most dear,

new readers to inspire

 

His argument made,

with phrases reborn,

the verdict theirs to choose

 

All time on the run,

his will to attack

—with nothing left to lose

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

Pushing his will against the status quo,

all time began to move

 

Scouring through each ominous lie,

veracity behooved

 

Giving with nothing left to give,

his soul turned inside out

 

Tomorrow dancing openly with yesterday’s dreams

—today no longer in doubt

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)