When their finest work gets

  left behind

 

The great are often

  forgotten

 

Remembered only in

  metaphors of orphancy

 

Imprisoned within the brilliance

   —of a distant light

 

(Las Vegas Nevada: August, 2015)

Oft times,

The smallest of things

Are the biggest of all

 

Oft times,

The softer you land

The harder you fall

 

Oft times,

Life is a present

Tied with ribbon and lace

 

Oft times,

The one’s you ignored

In your dreams have a face

 

Oft times,

The beginning and end

Join together attached 

 

Oft times,

Those doors that you locked

With new love come unlatched

 

Oft times,

The family lost

In new loyalty found

 

Oft times,

The things that you’re not

  —free your world to go round

 

(Airplane To Las Vegas: August 1, 2015)

 

Walking the line,

  each step unmeasured and long

 

Walking the line,

  memories distant and gone

 

Walking the line,

  time seemed forever to last

 

Walking the line,

  the future indentured

   —to the past

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2015 )

 

 

We’ve allowed our cities

  to turn into jungles

 

And now act surprised

  when the animals bite and maim

 

Refrain:

 

     “The new ‘Heart Of Darkness’

        the hunted unfree

 

      “Our surprise at their rebellion

        but the blame plain to see

 

      “A planned isolation

        the haves from have not’s

 

      “Now a cemetery of dreams

        —for dark progeny to rot”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2015)

 

Larcenous validator

  of all truth unto itself

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2015)

 

This prison I’ve created…

  totally self made

 

This world I’ve evaded

  the fodder I trade

 

The reward is the punishment

  for not taking part

 

Old scars not to heal

  as I wait in the dark

 

The consensus, the polling,

  all truth on the run

 

Their shadows of misery

  no day in the sun

 

The price of the membership

  an eternity black

 

With dealers and charlatans

  all looking back

 

This prison I’ve created…

  by rejection self made

 

This world I’ve evaded

  the fodder I trade

 

No verity in circumstance

  my horse trails the cart

 

These bars I look out from

   —a last lonely heart

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2015)

 

Poetry is the effect

 never the cause

 

A living remembrance

  —of a legacy spawned

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

Coffee Shop traveler

Caught

Between the beginning

And the end

Revolving

On a stool

Of broken dreams

Waiting

For a check

That never comes

Holding

A twenty-four hour vigil

For all who pass through

Dreading

A future sign that reads

  —WE’RE CLOSED

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2015)

Looking out is different

  than looking back

 

Wishes get hardened

  with a backward glance

 

All hopes reversing

   with time exposed

 

The aspirant trail marked

  —by memory’s return

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

The earth cracked in Nepal

  with fire and shame

 

And thousands lay dead

  on the mountains and plains

 

Its crust was ripped open

  its heart now exposed

 

And lives were then claimed

  from a heaven deposed 

 

The story for mystics

  a legend say some

 

The day nature demanded

   for things that we’d done

 

Her climate infected

  her sky ringed in black

 

Our future as payment

   —with no turning back

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)