The ‘Deceivers Of Time

 Masquerade Ball’

 

Invitees file past

 

Yesterday in drag,

 Tomorrow disguised

 

Today—the Present’s mask

 

Memories hide

 in the shadows of hope

 

All wishes dancing fast

 

Until the Jester laughs

 as the final waltz ends

 

Deception to the last

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Can you write a  

 celibate Poem

 

Devoid of flesh

 and fevered sounds

 

Can your verse restrain

 from lusting out

 

Its words still virgin

 —yet passion bound

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Can consciousness be compressed

 like a distant Black Hole

 

Into a photon and travel away

 

Coursing into the darkness

 at the speed of light

 

Reality curving and swaying

 

With entropy chasing

 and time not around

 

Each Dwarf Star awaiting its fall

 

The one last dimension, thought lost

 and now found

 

A new portal—unlocked to enthrall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

No lines are crossed

 in getting to the sea

 

Only excuses

 —buried in the sand

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Her voice provided cover,

 my soul to turn away

 

Her message greatly treasured,

 her protection my dismay

 

Her intention of the purest,

 but she raised me more than sound

 

Into the dark I send her words,

 exposed—my spirit found

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

If life is a giant crossword puzzle,

 how many blank spaces do you have

 

How many words have come together,

 how many crossroads in your path

 

Each grid connects with meaning,

 what row by row unfolds

 

The story then, the story now

 —that square by square is told

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Complex messages

 need a simple structure

 

Otherwise,

 a reader is lost

 

The shorter the word,

 the greater the meaning

 

Its judgment by value,

 never by cost

 

   ‘The straighter the blade,

      the sharper the edge

 

   ‘The sharper the edge,

      the deeper the cut

 

   ‘The deeper the cut,

      the more fatal the wound

 

   ‘Victory certain

      —the truth bleeding free’

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

 

 

What value, if any, does Poetry have

 —if not to speak the truth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

The ethics of duplicity,

 the killing on trial

 

One law for the criminal,

 one law for the child

 

The electric chair savage,

 womb murder refined

 

Academia, the father and mother

 of crime

 

To lie when convenient,

 truth’s babies to cry

 

An Einstein, a Lister, a Shakespeare,

 denied

 

Through dark inhumanity,

 their spirits to roam

 

Living deep in our consciousness

 —our souls theirs to own

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

All sleep is barren,

 the night becomes long

 

The Muse an insomniac

 —restless until dawn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)