Not always understanding…

  I write out the words

 

Lost in comprehension,

  till wonder returns

 

Each line a new postulate,

  no phrase left to chance

 

Last metaphor a song

 —my mind still to dance

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Like an open wound

That won’t heal

The current political situation

Bleeds out…

A hemorrhaged polarization

Inside a malignancy of lies

Draining our spirits

  —of all life giving faith

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

I like the idea,

  but not when it’s real

 

Your love in a letter,

  to read but not feel

 

Lost in conception,

  affection belied

 

Your words I can handle

  —whose touch I deny

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Truth has a power,

  exclusively its own

 

Beyond opinion and verdict,

  its nature is shown

 

Through good times and bad,

  its light shining through

 

A frame to the vision

   —whose picture renews

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

Before you fall,

  you’ve got to stand

 

Your voice once stalled,

  fates reprimand

 

The paradigm floats,

  on swamps that drain

 

Where praise cries out

   —false hope again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Be the champion of your art…

  or your playing fields will be empty

    —and your spectators left suffering alone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

You bought one more tomorrow,

   from my borrowed yesterdays

 

My voice to sing with Angels,

   your love the music plays

 

You bought one more tomorrow,

   as you cast the dark astray

 

Replacing grief and sorrow

   —with a torch that lights my way

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016) 

 From My ‘Book Of Prayers’

Can your intelligence

   wound your spirit

 

Can your mind

  entrap your soul

 

Can your hopes and wishes,

  logic kill

 

Can damnation

  be the toll

 

 Or

 

Can a promise

  wed tomorrow

 

Can the future

  slay the past

 

A lifetime spent,

  a moment earned

 

With love

  —the thing that lasts

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

 

“When staring death in the face…

   never look back over your shoulder”

 

(From My Novel: ‘Death From The Sky’)

Is the artist in me a liar,

  or the one who walks outside

 

Are my words and deeds in conflict,

  which to breathe and which to hide

 

Would King Solomon have an answer,

  to this split I often feel

 

Would salvation hold my name in check,

   as today my soul to deal

 

Do excuses, like good intentions,

  pave the way, perdition shown

 

Do the reasons then abandon,

  idle hope when left alone

 

Can the spirit claim what time has lost,

  in it’s quest to stay inspired

 

Can the truth once lit inside my heart

  —set all kindled lies afire

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)