An abundance of denial…
your mind turns away
What spirit embraces,
wealth hides and delays
“The dignity of the old man
in worn tattered clothes
Frayed pants covering high
button shoes, but not toes
“He wanders among us
just over the line
As eyes fail to see
what souls hope to find”
An elegance to rival
your white tie and tails
Where life now stripped free
of false richness—prevails
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Nocturnal flower
In need of sleep
Your petals wilt
The count for sheep
New dawn unpromised
The die is cast
A croupier wearing
Sun’s setting mask
Through endless courtship
Faith on the run
A Jester whispers
“Your dreams have come”
The meadow waiting
Its reaper gone
New light unspoken
—your buds in song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
The Democrat party,
all masters and slaves
G.O.P. left in tatters,
their promises frayed
Haves lie to the have nots
bright futures a whim
As the dragon’s fire burns
—the thick with the thin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
A chorus of enlightenment…
awakens me again
With sheets still warm, my heart she bathes,
all feelings wet within
Through steam I see her message clear,
the mirror does confirm
My words now washed, fresh thoughts to dry
—new melody to learn
(Court At KOP: February, 2016)
The Muse continues to punish me
whenever I write prose
Her slaps severe with pain heartfelt,
“no fury hell hath known”
She sentences me to endless nights
and days when words won’t come
Until I succumb to writing verse
and she—my breath becomes
(The Court at K.O.P: February, 2016)
The string is broken,
the past is lost
A road forgotten
late winter’s frost
Memory clearing
new thoughts to spin
All distance thawing
—another Spring
(Court At K.O.P: February, 2016)
Not cute or in genre,
in tune or in tone
A message drives forward,
the muse casting stones
Untimely, eternal,
her voice speaking fast
My pen now a torch
—the darkness is past
(Barnes & Noble-Plymouth Meeting Pa: January, 2016)
Dreams carry me across
a mysterious land
Where the voice of my fathers
so gently commands
It echoes quite softly
in words only sung
A joyous recital,
rewoven and spun
I never can stay there,
I’ve begged till I weep
And with barely a whisper,
I’m roused from my sleep
But when darkness befalls
on my world once again
A new dream will come calling
—to guide me within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Broken feelings…
My chest of gold
A torments ransom
No trinkets sold
The treasure bounteous
Walls lined with blood
Its hurt and pain
I have withstood
The jewels lack sparkle
But shimmer deep
Their cut and clarity
My soul to keep
And words if cheapened
Must leave this throne
As the lid reopens
—on the pain I own
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Between freedom and Instagram
there is an island,
where men go to be alone
An island of words
in arresting colors,
with meaning indicted—but seldom heard
Between Facebook and tomorrow
a cloud sits waiting,
where men go to find themselves
An Angel calling role
in blind acceptance,
all names rejected—the letters whole
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)
An Anthology Of Perception 