The woods never yawned
at the end of my stories
The streams never laughed
when I stuttered in haste
The mountains stood firm
when I lost my last footing
The sky understanding
in joy or disgrace
These natural things
forever behold me
Forgiving my weakness
rewarding my nerve
Their arms reaching out
through each change of the season
Pulling me onward
— my voice undeterred
(The New Room: March, 2025)
The older
I get
the more
my hunger
for knowledge
grows
The more
my hunger
for knowledge
grows
the younger
— I get
(The New Room: March, 2025)
Real education
starts
when the university
fades
in your rearview mirror
Its nihilistic
narrative
disappearing
in the mist
Umbilically
the ties
are cut
as light
comes rushing in
The wax of
dead
banal professors
— melting in the past
(Dreamsleep: March, 2025)
Worshipping
at the altar
of self-destruction
western man enshrined
Paying false homage
to every tree
the forest
in deep decline
Losing his place
among God’s creatures
to wander
far and wide
Asking flawed questions
running in place
consensus
— ill defined
(The 1st Book Of Prayers: March, 2025)
The Universe had
a beginning …
something caused it
to begin
Measure
with the measured
stones and
stepping akin
Cause and effect
logicians praise
Thomas’ words
like a gun
Space and Time
adopted twins
creating creation
— from zero sum
(The New Room: March, 2025)
The Kingdom’s seeds
within his heart
its reign
a heavy stone
The Jester dancing
with the Queen
caught naked
on the throne
His back now turned
the Jack of Spades
a dagger
up his sleeve
A palace coup
in bold relief
his lineage
besieged
The music stops
the Jester laughs
the Queen cries out
for more
The Princess
in the tower
where her subjects
cry out ‘WHORE’
The drawbridge falls
the King is back
his armor
red and stained
The final battle
yet unfought
dark prophecy
— ordained
(The New Room: February, 2025)
Many die
to walk unknown
amongst
the living dead
Their hearts reclaimed
yet beating still
whose verses
go unread
They wander freely
in the night
their chains
relock the grave
Awaiting words
you’ve yet to write
to free
— their death enslaved
(Calvary Cemetery: February, 2025)
Is the distinction between
science and philosophy
nothing but
illusion
Affirming what it wouldst
certainly and firmly most deny
Proponents of formulaic truth
require a defense against critique
judgment unrelenting
as their proof is self-inured
Science thus infallible
because its findings are collective
Their community not disposed
to answer
questions they will
— never ask
(Amtrak R5- February, 2025)
Tragic
to know
but not
recall
What lies
within
that darkened
hall
With
every squint
and fact
unfound
Old feelings
search
through memory
— bound
(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
Living
poetic
Treasuring
feelings
Wrapping each
moment
In letters
of sound
Freeing the
silence
Words deep
within me
Calling the
future
Where verses
— resound
(The New Room: February, 2025)
An Anthology Of Perception 