Poetry or Prose

  its hand reaches outward

 

A fist or a backslap

 —composure or blood

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Start looking outside your frame of reference

  for that which stands you alone

 

Stop longing for praise or high endorsement

  things only borrowed or loaned

 

Start feeling those words you preach unto others

   no longer idling yourself away

 

Stop blaming the time and the message it brings

  —for those excuses that keep you ‘at bay’

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

It isn’t…

  until it is

 

It wasn’t…

  until it was

 

It shouldn’t be…

  until it should

 

It won’t be…

  —until it will

 

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 Reading for inspiration

  and not for fact

 

The words paint a picture

  in my mind

 

Like dominoes falling

  one by one

 

They rise from the page

  to remind

 

My fingers enliven

  and start to draw

 

A vivid story

  new image sublime

 

All colors reborn,

  as each word is set free

 

The ink now transformed

  —and divine

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Day surrounds your memory,

  as evening frames your smile

 

But what I most remember

 —is morning in your eyes

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

My days and nights

 death in between

 trouble in front—behind

 

The devil hijacking my

 fondest dream

 trouble in front—behind

 

She said she loved me

 then said it twice

 trouble in front—behind

 

The day I got fired

 she turned to ice

 trouble in front—behind

 

I pass out stoned

 and wake up hard

  trouble in front—behind

 

With time my warden

 and sentence scarred

 trouble in front—behind

 

My children’s names

 now others call

 trouble in front—behind

 

The doctor warns…

 “Not one more fall”

 trouble in front—behind

 

Excuses inked

 across my chest

 trouble in front—behind

 

The good got better

 but the worst got best

 trouble in front—behind

 

My eyes stay swollen

 my mojo light

 trouble in front—behind

 

The river rolling

 the falls in sight

 trouble in front—behind

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)

You stir it one way and they the other,

  but the mixture stays just as hot

 

You attack their motives and they attack yours,

  while the contents boil and rot

 

“It needs to be this way”… the other side revolts,

  “Your mind’s faulty with avarice and greed”

 

The pot has simmered; the broth is thick,

  and its bottom not easy to see

 

A mutual exclusion, first left then right

  a feast—all soul’s consumed

 

With spoon or fork, its offering slick

  when the bowls come out at noon

 

In single file, day turns to night

  pointed talk with nothing said

 

Both cupboard’s bare, two rat’s within

  guarding their last crust of bread

 

When the final story is written and told

   of what in concert you destroyed

 

A drum will beat, zero-sum complete

  leaving you soulless—but still conjoined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June,2016)

Written fragments

Broken songs

Stepping stones

To hope beyond

 

Music absent

Long at bay

Vagrant notes

  —last wish to play

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Remembering my Grandfather

  forgetting my Dad

 

Wanting to be near him

  paternal influence bad

 

He loved without question,

  his smile blocked the sun

 

And without his embracing

  —my life on the run

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Stopping just short of judgment,

  his mind took a leap

 

Whose soul rose as substance

  now ready to speak

 

Words before never uttered

  or spoken in vain

 

This acknowledgement followed

  crying out in refrain…

 

“The joy in the brotherhood

   all torment by choice

 

 “To share in celebration,

   we alone can’t rejoice

 

 “The critic inside us

   the judger of sins

 

 “Is best left in silence

   till it targets within”

 

As time will remind us,

  and these words will recall

 

All biting reprisal

  —the coward’s downfall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)