The Last Fancy Dancer

Tis a witch out of season,

on the seventh day

 

And you hear reasons chanting,

while running away

 

from you

from you

 

In her brew stirs an answer,

where memories lay

 

And the last fancy dancer

burns, looking to play

 

with you

with you

 

Your destiny boiling,

a cauldron of doubt

 

With fear running over

her coven to shout

 

at you

at you

 

Until spells of transcendence,

a broom handled waltz

 

Free dreams that start dancing,

through dungeons of fault

 

for you

for you

 

(Las Vegas, Nevada: January, 2020)

‘Rock Lyrics #122

 

 

 

 

 

 

Future Bought

A PhD in emotion and feel,

licentiate of what lives within

 

Professor of imagery, doctor of will,

a Saint with a penchant for sin

 

Explorer of evil with devils to hunt,

the fire burns liquid and hot

 

Degrees of atonement, diplomas unread

— graduate of words future bought

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

 

 

 

Father

Once you had arms

that held me so tight

 

Once you had legs

that stood up for right

 

Once you had eyes

that could see in the dark

 

Once your strong hands

plotted courses to chart

 

Once we would walk

and the birds would proclaim

 

Once we would sing

and the heavens refrained

 

Once we thought time

was our servant and slave

 

Once, before war

we forgot and forgave

 

Now that you’re gone,

my memory’s gone dark

 

Now that you’re gone,

paths unwalked in the park

 

Now that you’re gone,

surname given and fast

 

Now that you’re gone

—my heart beats in the past

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)