A gift or obligation,

  the Poet signed his name

 

A promise wrapped in silence,

  decision masked by pain

 

One choice among the many,

  within salvation lies

 

The victors lay unspoiled

  —with truth to live or die

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)

Until you escape your own cognition,
you’re a prisoner of your mind

Your spirit waiting to lift you free,
dialectic far behind

Until you can leave all reasoning trapped,
and let your thoughts go free

You’ll never be able to self implode
—as you were meant to be

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

A sweetness comes with age,

  like fruit that’s finally ripe

 

A Poet then a Sage,

  on this journey into night

 

A wish distilled from all regret,

  its seeds to be resown

 

A sweetness comes with age

  —that buried youth will never know

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Are you ready for forgiveness,

  has that time finally come

 

You’ve done everything else in life,

  holding back on just that one

 

Is it time to say “I’m sorry,”

  for the hurt and pain you’ve caused

 

Is it time to shed false glory,

  and end this dreadful pause

 

Is it time to try and reconnect,

  with those loved ones that you left

 

Is it time your pride no longer hides,

  behind the grandest theft

 

Are the tears then real for what’s gone by,

  to which river do they flow

 

Has the time now come to stem the tide

  —and let your feelings show

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Living on the surface,

  dinner’s always served at eight

 

Living on the surface,

  pride forever casts your fate

 

Living on the surface,

  things always seem just fine

 

Living on the surface,

  plays an endless pantomime

 

Living on the surface,

  the church contains your soul

 

Living on the surface,

  your religion swallowed whole

 

Living on the surface,

  things never change that much

 

Living on the surface,

  you can only look, not touch

 

Living on the surface,

  the wheel only spins one way

 

Living on the surface,

  each spoke a mortgage pays

 

Living on the surface,

  love professes in a vow

 

Living on the surface,

  real commitment not allowed

 

Living on the surface,

  new doors stay locked and shut

 

Living on the surface,

  your reentry self-destructs

 

Living on the surface,

  your reflection flat and clean

 

While just below the surface

  —beats the heart of what things mean

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

With chaos on my doorstep,

  reasoning befalls

 

With heartache as my calling card,
love though distant calls

 

All questions left unanswered,

  with time their holy grail

 

As seasons march to heavens step

  —my hope to then prevail

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)

If you can choose the battlefield

  —you can determine the outcome

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

Adrian Simpson in ‘Falling Into The Darkness’

A quarter of a million people

  read my poetry last year

 

Five hundred thousand eyes,

  five hundred thousand ears

 

I write every day with the

  humble knowledge of this

 

 To offer some solace,

   to be never remiss

 

They guide me much more

  than they ever will know

 

To help form the words

  that keep me in tow

 

I feel like I know them

  when I write late at night

 

As they call through the darkness

  —giving wings to my flight

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Some things are unknowable as they are,

  and need an alias to come true

 

Some people only known through someone else,

  and you must look hard to see through

 

Not in hiding, but contained within,

  symbiotic they exist

 

To live and die within something else

  —a thing most often missed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Giving birth to new feelings,

  life to the unborn

 

Eternity swaddled,

  cradled and warm

 

A labored delivery,

  nibbed forceps demand

 

Prying out a new meaning

   —each stroke of the hand

 

(Plane To Las Vegas: July, 2016)