Neither over nor under,

  ahead or behind

 

My position unreferenced,

  your judgment still blind

 

Not over or under,

  ahead or behind

 

So easy once labeled
—so hard undefined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

The livery on fire,

  its horses set free

 

Misery beckons,

  the future to bleed

 

The gates are broke open,

  all streets painted red

 

Death has awakened,

  life dragged from its bed

 

One bugle is left,

  blowing perdition’s melee

 

All swords are unsheathed,

  terror sharpens dismay

 

Tomorrow unpromised,

  today but a curse

 

The monster has cometh

   —a hell upon earth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Another day with a voice

  —one more glimpse into forever

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

Before I could return to writing prose,

  the Muse kidnapped my pen by decree

 

Most days fully structured and measured on end,

  but tonight

     —words yearned to be free

 

Each story cerebral, its words to describe,

  new plots marching forward in time

 

With fables inscribed for others, not I,

   my true voice

      —wanting only to rhyme

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Prince without a lineage

King without a throne

 

Master without servants

Lover of that unknown

 

Hearer of what’s unspoken

Seer of things divine

 

Lord among the jesters

Voice for all the mimes

 

Reason, when excuses falter

Questioner, when answers fail

 

Link between the seasons

  —first breath a baby wails

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

My heart belongs to providence,

   as I walk that final mile

 

My footsteps bought and paid for,

   when I clear the last denial

 

My faith is bold and steadfast,

   a new rain begins to fall

 

Through the fog a horn is blowing

   the gate open—Gabriel calls

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

        From ‘The Book Of Prayers’

 

Is life about how many

  or then about how much

 

Is the truth in computation

  or in what those numbers touch

 

Is the measurement empiric

  with a final answer shown

 

Is salvation in the lyrics

  with the word count still unknown

 

Is there faith inside the mystery

  that mere reason can’t abide

 

Is there something deep inside you

  that excuses cannot hide

 

Is there a wind that blows indulgent

  carrying an echo from before

 

With a voice that speaks the loudest

  the one you listen to—reborn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

Wrapping letters around

  the conflict

 

A war played out

  with words

 

The fury of shouted

  diction

 

Slaying enemies still

  unheard

 

Shooting vision

  into the onslaught

 

Attacking silence

  as legion’s advance

 

Loading insight into

  the canons

 

Killing emptiness

  —with a warrior’s chant

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

I sold my soul

  for new meter and rhyme

 

Trading salvation

  for a thing greater still

 

The joyful embrace

  of one hell damning phrase

 

Living immortal, perpetual

  —fulfilled

 

I sold my soul

  as the Devil laughed

 

Knowing not, my final words

  were for him

 

Exposing his lie

  and his legions of hate

 

With my last breath

  —Divinity’s hymn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Fusing thought with emotion,

  words come to life

 

Images eternal,

  feelings ignite

 

Lines play in concert,

  all stanzas to meet

 

My psyche impassioned

  —my spirit complete

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)