Did you build that open portal …
one to leave upon
One that takes you back inside
one that plays your songs
Will your exit be an entry
to that place that waits within
Will tomorrow be the past in drag
— as you shed that final skin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
My generation
is unfixable
The young
still hold the key
Unsullied by the
vested norm
They look
but also see
They hear those
inner voices
Not yet despoiled
and dark
Believing that:
“Oh Yes We Can”
As seniors
— bray and bark
(Radnor High School: November, 2025)
A Martyred Plea
That voice in the distance
the one that’s been scarred
A whisper screams loudest
— when heard from afar
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Adrift
If you can’t find
the right harbor
At least
— find the right wind
(Dreamsleep: November, 2028)
Till Mariah Calls
Life
the aberration
Death
what’s affirmed
Alive
for a moment
Till dust
— we return
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Deciding for another
— the greatest responsibility of all
(The New Room: November, 2025)
Losers dwell
in misery’s past
Winners reach
for tomorrow recast
Cowardice hides
from every new dawn
Where freedom awaits
— the brave and the strong
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Are you qualified
to comment
Are you predisposed
to care
Can your envy
make it better
When you rip
and then you tear
Sleeping
with the devil
The critic
stirs his pot
Trying to recook
the stew
With all the things
— he’s not
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Blues Poem #3
Living hard
the writing comes easy
Living easy
— the writing comes hard
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
The Greatest Harp
My pen is like a blues riff
not always on the note
I bend within the moment
new feelings reach for hope
A eulogy remastered
the fire that he fed
His Mojo dancing with the Muse
Marine Band his to wed
My words to stretch and vibrate
a blind man his to read
They move in tribute off the page
Sonny’s orphaned reeds
My hand they cease to follow
as letters wail and slide
While deep in South Chicago
— a harp long dead survives
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
‘Tribute To Sonny Boy Williamson 1’
Deep
inside
my pocket
Where
orphaned thoughts
call home
I find
a voice
abandoned
Disheartened
and
alone
I take it
in my
fingers
To warm
within
my hand
A treasured
find
when free reminds
Just who
and what
I am
“We trip
the light
fantastic”
Much better
than
before
Reclaiming
what
the darkness stole
And
hid away
— abjured
(Inspired By Milton’s L’Allegro: October, 2025)
“Come, and trip it as ye go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;”
If you’re not willing to fight the fire
— you’re entitled to the flames
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Turning images
into words
Feelings
into fact
(and)
Passion
— into love
(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)
An Anthology Of Perception 