We’ve had forever to get it right

 this religion we hold dear

 

But why the murder and ‘holy wars’

 that underwrite our fear

 

We stand in judgment and wield belief

 with weapons poorly thrown

 

Our eyes rejecting while spirit’s cry

 —our futures poorly sown

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

To die without rhythm

  and bleed without rhyme

 

Each wish left unspoken

  in coupling divine

 

New heartbeats unwritten

  that call from within

 

Their cadence restructured

  all verse—now a hymn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016 )

Thinking more of your constituency

 than they do of themselves…

   —political suicide

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Are those dimensional theories a trap

 for what your mind will never understand

 

Does your spirit lay dormant and fallow

 an alien within its own land

 

Does the math and the science betray you

 with the numbers piled outside your door

 

Is the time sliced and diced infinitum

 —deliverance calling now as before

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

My days prolonged,

 my nights were short

   —my history caught between

 

Judgment coming

 fast and swift

  —to escape is then to dream

 

All time distorted

 memory fried

   —the past is but a whim

 

Old lessons spurned,

 the seasons turn

  —new forces pull within

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

Good feelings or bad…

results the same

When a nerve is struck

  to start the game

 

The words can soften

  or strike with fear

Once through the surface

 —the truth is near

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

Money and wealth

 used to accompany class

 

Now more often than not,

 it tends toward the crass

 

There used to be style

 that went along with good luck

 

Now nouveau riche dogma

 just passes the buck

 

The internet minions

 and rappers galore

 

Litter our vision

 as they buy out our stores

 

This newest gold standard

 obsesses with bling

 

Their knowledge in tatters

 they read not a thing

 

All intention is focused

 on numbers that climb

 

Like lasers, they pierce

 the mercurial dime

 

But time marches onward

 for rich and for poor

 

Looking back, a past wasted

  —ahead nothing more

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

No clock can lay claim

 to the moment untimed

 

Though hands finely set

 still a mystery divine

 

Each tick plays a cadence

 to what is now past

 

But what of the future

 its measure uncast

 

We plot and record it

 hours, minutes, they chime

 

As all fantasy escapes

  —this delusion of time

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

To my home, the words take me

 each calling by name

 

Tearing walls from around me

 passion free, unrestrained

 

Their visions at midnight

 have lulled me to sleep

 

Their message when troubled

 my nightmare to greet

 

Through the long and the short

 it’s the words once again

 

Like the tide on the shore,

 they return as a friend

 

And lately I’m hearing

 an echoed refrain

 

From verses long distant

 offloading my pain

 

These words that I hear

 more whisper than shout

 

And what I once questioned,

 I no longer doubt

 

Through my voice they’re respoken

 to shield me from harm

 

Their peace like a blanket

  —under which I am warm

 

 (Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

 

 

Cowardice and bravery

Not either/or

But different levels of…

 

Valor and shame

A swinging door

Whose facings change when swung

 

A foil to confound

The poets dream

With glory and disdain

 

Bravery and cowardice

Not zero-sum

 —but often look the same

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)