Darkness Disowned

Since you left

 —poetry has become my lover

 

Since you left

 —long days have turned to moments

 

Since you left

 —all memory lives organic

 

Since you left

 —the words return unfettered

 

Since you left

 —the sun has lost its shadow

 

And since you left

  —all darkness now disowned

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Two Warriors

The last bout of the night

  two warriors would fight

  with legends

  now at hand

 

Feet and fists wrapped

  their spirits attacked

  and of their bodies

  they would demand

 

Each kick got higher

  as two hearts aspired

  to what lay just beyond

  their grasp

 

And as the referee sounded

  over hearts that still pounded

  only the best of each other

    —had they asked

 

(Seoul Korea: August, 1976)

The Present Calls

Unstop the drain

  kiss the pain

  let nature run its course

 

Trip the wire

  start the fire

  new vision at its source

 

Time unstrung

  past on the run

  tomorrow lies to all

 

Hearts open wide

  the moment flies

   —past memory to recall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

 

Naked Before The Mob

Why is ‘Almost Good Enough’

  never what you need?

 

Why is ‘Clearly Not Enough’

  an ounce more than you deserve?

 

Why is ‘Almost What You Need’

  the most you’ll ever have?

 

Why is ‘It’s Not Only That’

  the only thing that’s left?

 

Why is ‘In Almost Every Case’

  not in any case at all?

 

Why is ‘In Lieu Of Everything Else’

  the thing sure to be missed?

 

Why is ‘In Actuality’

  in real terms actually not?

 

Why is ‘To Be Perfectly Honest With You’

  the biggest lie you tell?

 

Why is the serious ‘Last Ditch Effort’

  the one you continue to try?

 

Why is the ‘Absolute Final Time’

  the one you repeat again?

 

Why is ‘Really’ not real at all

  and spoken then in vain?

 

Why is ‘Probably’ not possible

   or even close to that?

 

Why is the phrase ‘The Bottom Line’

  the top of your agenda?

 

Why is the trusted ‘Old College Try’

  strictly out of school?

 

Why is ‘Painstakingly Difficult’

  the easiest thing you do?

 

Why is ‘No Sweat—The Deal Is Done’

  so much harder than before?

 

Why is ‘Let’s Start At The Beginning’

  the end of the debate?

 

Why is ‘The Last Word On The Matter’

  the beginning of what comes next?

 

Why is ‘So What’ a euphemism

  for the most important thing you do?

 

Why is ‘It Is What It Is’

  categorically not, and never meant to be?

 

Why is ‘The Bull In The China Shop’

  ceramic and for sale?

 

Why is the celebratory ‘Victory Lap’

  the one taken in disgust?

 

Why is the magical ‘Three Point Shot’

   four points more than its worth?

 

Why is the special ‘Love You Lost’

  the only one you’ve never found?

 

Why is the figurative ‘Bird In Hand’

  the one that flies away?

 

Why is ‘Bantering Back And Forth’

  the silence you extol?

 

When will your words wrap like copper wire  

  to conduct the truth unrobbed

 

When will you cease to pander and mislead

    —naked before the mob

 

  

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Morning In Doubt

Riding into the moment

  with pen ablaze

  past-future on the hunt

 

Fear taking a seat

  across the fire

  begging for what it wants

 

A bugle blows

  the sun retreats

  twin enemies approach

 

Upon whose sleeves

  my heart is laid

   —in doubt the morning cloaked

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

Beauty Fraught

I was a soldier, but never sure

  of those things I was 

  charged to do

 

I was asked to fight

  pick up helmet and gun

  men dying around me I knew

 

Those places I’ve been

  and the things I’ve done

  all eclipse the known profane

 

Now with beauty fraught

   you must lock the gate

     —inside this prison I remain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

A Viking Crest Ablaze

Flying alone

   over fury enthroned

 

 Its colors reign free

  and clear

 

The enemy stained

  all freedom regained

 

Covered in blood

  spent and dear

 

Stitched yellow and blue

  its messages true

 

That Svealand does

  not run

 

To hang steadfast

  and slay the past

 

And carry our glory

  sum

 

A crest ablaze

  through fire and haze

 

Horses hooves high in

  the air

 

Now honor bound

  on sacred ground

 

Heralding death

  —our cross to bear

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)