Once you have everything

 you can give it all up

 gratuitous though it seems

 

But until that day

 we lust and pray

  for what alludes us

  —a prisoner of dreams

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

Are people religious because

   they’re good?

 

Or good, because they’re

   religious?

 

The question remains,

  its verdict unclaimed

 

The wrong answer deemed

  —sacrilegious

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

I’m covered in dirt,

  but my words are still clean

 

A vision half dried

  with stains running deep

 

With sinners and saints

  arm in arm at the bar

 

Each infection we share

  tonight’s hookup and score

 

Meaningless excuses

  all scandal affirmed

 

My bed made with sheets

  from a brothel once scorned

 

As I lie in the shadows

  with my soul partly damp

 

My words are set free

   —to the heavens restamped

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Through the eye of the needle

Not to the left or the right

Dodging both on the comets tail

 

I streak into the light

My last wish out in front

As words melt in a fiery contrail

 

And with only one question

To weaken my heart

With only one thing to know

 

The seasons entwine

All beanstalks are felled

With the exit signs all aglow

 

I crash through the doubt

Releasing new hope

My affirmation now to reign

 

And look ever further

Beyond my scope

As my senses become untrained

 

I feel the loose pieces

Start to come off

A new lightness now abounds

 

The last burden has lifted

Burning bright in my wake

Crossing over—turned around

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016) 

 

Has your violence

 taken you to places

 I’ve not been?

 

Or driven you

 to things

 I’ve not seen?

 

Was your soul

 mired in conflict

 once raised from the dead?

 

Were your walls

 built to fortify

 excuses and blame?

 

Have your choices

 been forged by

 damnation and fear?

 

Did love matter at all

 when it cried

 through the pain?

 

Could you still hear its voice

 on those darkest

 of nights?

 

Are those places you

 conquered

 in tribute now shamed?

 

Did your victims

 kneel down

 their heads bowed in defeat?

 

Was mercy rejected

 your mistress

 defiled?

 

Has your violence

 taken you to places

 I’ve not been?

 

Or driven you

 to things

 I’ve not seen?

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

Can you be distracted by the critic

  or the public acclaim

 

Can you see through the fire

  and renew all that’s burned

 

Can you look past the signposts

  and those messages fixed

 

Can your heart stay undamaged

  as the world tempts your soul

 

Can you run through loud voices

  with yours still unspoken

 

Can you make it to tomorrow

  without leaving today

 

Can you give love to those hateful

  with vengeance recalled

 

Can you carry your grandfather’s words

  into the land of the unborn

 

Can you hang up your spear

  inside the enemy camp

 

Can you live to see the beginning

  and the end die at last

 

Can your voice remain pure

  neither bartered nor loaned

 

Can you listen through the smoke

   —for a melody unsung

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

If a boy, 

  why not a poet

 

If a poet,

  why not a warrior

 

If a warrior,

  why not a hero

 

If a hero

 —why not a man

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

 

Rejecting the parts

The whole became

Clear…

In the absence of

Separation

The remnants of

Confusion and chaos

Paving

The way

Toward the

Light…

And the man

I would again

Become

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

I’m not part of

  any movement

 

Or adhere to

  any Regent

 

I don’t follow

  any rules

 

That aren’t in most part

  my own

 

I don’t

  attempt to teach

 

Or begin

  to preach

 

A stronger

  thread

 

Than

  what you’ve sewn

 

I don’t typecast

  iconoclast

 

Or look for

  acceptance

 

Under the cover

  of my thoughts

 

In the darkness

  of my room

 

I don’t criticize

  bastardize

 

Or tear apart your

  weaving

 

Asking only the same

  from you

 

As you sit upon

  your loom

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

The way you think

  may not change

 

But the way you feel

  about those thoughts

   —certainly will

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)