The mind and body dualist,

his prison for a throne

 

Confusion reigns where consciousness walks,

where can it find a home

 

The soul the prize that matters,

the spirit up for grabs

 

Proximity defining its own lie,

positioning unclad

 

But somewhere in the distance,

and somewhere heretofore

 

A laughter lives beyond itself,

escaping its own core

 

The zero-sum dilemma,

what Sages claim to own

 

Lay far beyond what’s deep within

—where truth is free to roam

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

 

With every new belief,

you have to let something go

 

Each thought self-entitled

—to reap what it sows

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

Understanding too much,

feeling too little

 

Our being unbalanced

—and spirit restrained

 

(Wayne Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

We make the beds we lie in

—to sleep or not

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)

Tripping over my shadow,

guilt darkened the night

 

The devil bespoken,

fear burning bright

 

Stepping into the darkness,

one chance to look back

 

Light shouting farewell

—as panic attacked

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

Self-preservation…

our most basic law

 

Suicide proving

—that free will exists

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)

 

Traveling the world in my mind,

 ghosts linger behind

 

Traveling the world in my mind,

each flashback a sign

 

Traveling the world in my mind,

space harder to find

 

Traveling the world in my mind

—memories define

 

(Presbyterian Hospital: January, 2020)

The visionary Poet,

blind to the word

Framing the consciousness

of a thousand lost days

Riding the emotion

of a memory set free

Escaping the entrapment

of description’s pretense

Vanishing in the mist

—like a rewoken dream

 

(University Of Pennsylvania: January, 2020)

The currency of time

—is blood

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)

In the information age,

we know too much about each other

Too much good and too much bad,

that sets our minds to wander

No longer touching what we once loved,

no longer finding what we once held in our arms

No longer listening to the sweet voice of mystery

that charmed the deep emptiness

 —which now intervenes

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)