A Poet’s ink…
more sacred
than a Martyr’s blood
Each word
divinely measured
—all time in glory of
(Dreamsleep: September, 2020)
A Poet’s ink…
more sacred
than a Martyr’s blood
Each word
divinely measured
—all time in glory of
(Dreamsleep: September, 2020)
Phrases string together,
letters front to back
Birds of the same feather,
in each other’s tracks
Marching toward transcendence,
words reformed and strong
Flocking into unison
—flying into song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)
While bending the rules,
and strattling the line
I pushed every limit,
calling it mine
Tearing down fences,
defiantly proud
The direst warnings,
rebutted out loud
One last price to pay,
its ticket to stamp
Shadows concealing
my spiritual ramp
Each vow that I’ve broken,
those things left undone
The man I became
—a life zero sum
(Bryn Mawr College: September, 2020)
Once free of the body,
into the soul
Majestic reversal,
the minstrels have told
A crown made of virtue,
death in the past
Whose regal foretelling
—a message to last
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)
Modern thought…
a footnote to Plato
Enshrined in our memory
—recalled and retold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)
Short in stature,
long in fight,
the zealot stood his ground
The odds unfavored,
no end in sight,
victory still unfound
The daylight haunting,
the body count,
the field a sea of blood
A bugle blowing
for one last charge,
advancing through the mud
With force depleted
but spirit whole,
his voice heard far and wide…
“Into the jaws
of certain death
—for glory now we ride”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)
All of my life,
living for today
All of tomorrow,
living for tomorrow
None of my life,
living for yesterday
Lived as today
—as today was tomorrow
(Reading ‘The Portable Einstein,’ September, 2020)
“Today was tomorrow
—to all of yesterday”
I’ve crawled through the logic,
but where’s the trap door
The one to escape through,
where there’s something more
I’ve labored with reason,
my notes here to show
Its path ever narrow,
restricting the flow
Epistemological
gods of my youth
Now dust covered relics
and long in the tooth
The ethical paradigm,
sainted deceit
Whose judgment is final,
yet hard to believe
Dichotomy calling,
last road to go down
Until love’s dialectic
—turns me around
(Villanova University: September, 2020)
Auditioning for myself
the lights went down
the sound amped up
my head turned round
Auditioning for myself
the handbill flew
into the seats
the chosen few
Auditioning for myself
last line unread
the words reborn
inside my head
Auditioning for myself
I begged my leave
the stage door open
—a last reprieve
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)
Prescribed philosophy…
medicine of the soul
Brainchild of the gods
—thoughts becoming whole
(Newtown Square Pennsylvania: September, 2020)