I rode the feeling

down a running stream

—to the river of no return

 

And cast my fate

into the current’s wake

—toward a waterfall unheard

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

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

 

The places I’ve been

and the things I’ve done

all eclipse the known profane

 

Now with beauty fraught

I lock the gate

—inside this prison I remain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Twilight fell onto my

windowsill

 

Demon fire in full

retreat

 

The stars above

glowing pulls on a rug

 

Woven deep into the blackness

I sleep

 

Days grip is unchained

the cantor sings as he prays

 

As St. Michael cries

THE SERPENT UNDONE

 

The sun has now left

though your dreams not bereft

 

Only the night

—points to heaven above

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

A warrior’s tears

blood from above

 

His fury unleashed

in a most perfect love

 

Though few understand it

a life heaven loaned

 

Dying immortal

—to be welcomed back home

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)

Is your pen fully loaded,

is the piston pulled back

 

Are the words of high-caliber,

is your target intact

 

Does intention self load,

does conviction re-sight

 

Will the ink run like blood

—when you fire in the night

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

If you live long enough

it all unravels

 

From the first thing

to the last

 

If you reach far enough

your spirit travels

 

Beyond the answers

and questions asked

 

If you wait long enough

the seasons meld

 

Snow and flowers together

sewn

 

If you love deep enough

an Angel guides you

 

Present, past, and future

—known

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

Blindly spending the

bulk

 

Of my temporal

capital

 

Hourly deficits

started to climb

 

And piled into

notes

 

I will never

repay

 

Stored in vaults

that I’ll never find

 

Words lay

uncashed

 

As I waste even

more

 

In my attempt to go

back and re-sign

 

All those debts

left untendered

 

Never forgiven

now due

 

That fate

has secured

—and defined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Unadulterated and pure

the thoughts left my mind

 

Untrained and unschooled

no restrictions to bind

 

The page below virgin

as I wear out my pen

 

A literary wanderer

—starting over again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

You can’t

Or you won’t,

The result is the same

 

The difference

Decision,

And it’s yours once again

 

You can’t or you won’t

Grandest excuse

Of the small

 

When you won’t

Then you can’t,

And the won’t, worst of all

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

To write poetry on the battlefield

is to write poetry from the heart

 

Words to cover the scars and wounds

grief peeling back like bark

 

Each verse fired like a rifle

with bayonet attached

 

Its volley sharpened and to the point

   the blood spilled—turning black

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)