Your head turned away

 but you needed to hear

 

Your memory in flames

 and the truth very near

 

Your ears became deaf

 as new words tried to form

 

Your fear an asylum

  —where the past is reborn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

 

The world that we escape to…

 a thunder strike to come

 

That inner passing night train

 the past and future run

 

An image once to blind you

 now guiding through the maze

 

Temptation and redemption

 twin catalysts betrayed

 

One vision chosen blindly

 new insight falls like rain

 

As darkness drains the cosmos

 reflection dyed and stained

 

But memory comes as Savior

 stigmata left behind

 

Whose wound is now a fountain

 —where flows the deeper mind

 

(Plane Back From Dallas: June, 2018)

Do you live your whole life

  in a partially filled space

 

Do you swear up and down

  about reasons defaced

 

Do you sing in a choir

  where the music has died

 

Do you brand all as liars

  as your knots remain tied

 

Do you rob from the master

  just to steal from the slave

 

Do you live in a mansion

  built on top of your grave

 

Do you look for direction

  on trails hollow and thin

 

Does your soul beg correction

  torn away from within

 

Do you begin every sentence

  tracing back to the past

 

Do you live every moment

 —writing checks you can’t cash

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)

Literary Achilles

 writer of the sword

 

Legions cry

 chariots fly

 

 —blood in every word

 

(Dallas Texas: June, 2018)

Crossing over

 to what most would call good

 

My feelings inline

 my words understood

 

No chair or wip

 do the verses require

 

All teeth now removed

 in fear of your ire

 

Crossing over

 to what some would proclaim

 

The lines neatly ordered

 with nothing profane

 

Those tight little smiles

 they clap and they cheer

 

Words lost of all meaning

  —truth farther than near

 

(Dallas Texas: June, 2018)

Things beyond description

Deemed poetic lay….

‘A golden oak

On an October day’

‘The perfect form

Of a cresting wave’

‘The laughter of toddlers

As they run and play’

‘A Mozart concerto

 —in its timeless way’

 

(Dallas Texas: June, 2018)

A captive of his genius

And prisoner of his insight

The Jester played New York

Like a fiddler on the run

The truth always just a step

Ahead or behind his perception

The music caught in between

Like an opera singer’s pause for breath

‘The Times Were A Changing’

 —and he was left forever wondering why

 

(Dallas Texas: June, 2018)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today is for the living

 fate yet to take its toll

 

The reaper’s threats lie cold and bare

 when not yet on his roll

 

Life belongs to those who bleed

 with joy and pain redressed

 

The will to live—Your love to give

 those things denied to death

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

Are you the hero

  of a recurring dream

 

Or the victim

  of a life undone

 

Are you the ambassador

  for all you esteem

 

Or a fugitive

 —a soul on the run

 

Are you a real friend

  beyond trial and strife

 

Whose allegiance

  now stalwart defends

 

Are you the true master

  of all your desires

 

Or the ghost

 —of what sleep can’t befriend

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

His bravery inspired

  a hero defiled

 

By one of his own

  whose spirit disowned

 

All memory attacks

  what never came back

 

   ‘from a war beyond

    winning or losing’

 

The best of the best

  too early to rest

 

His brothers in arms

  —his first choosing

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)