Hell Upon Earth

The livery on fire

  its horses set free

 

Misery beckons

  the future to bleed

 

The gates are broke open

  all streets painted red

 

Death has awakened

  life dragged from its bed

 

One bugle is left

  blowing perdition’s melee

 

All swords are unsheathed,

  terror sharpens dismay

 

Tomorrow unpromised

  today but a curse

 

The monster has cometh

  —a hell upon earth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Wanting Only To Rhyme

Before I could return to writing prose,

  verse took my pen by decree

 

Days fully structured and measured on end

  but tonight

    —words yearned to be free

 

The stories cerebral, their words bellicose

  new plots marching forward in time

 

With a story inscribed for others, not I,

  my true voice

      —wanting only to rhyme

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Poet

Prince without lineage

King without a throne

 

Master without servants

Lover of that unknown

 

Hearer of what’s unspoken

Seer of things divine

 

Lord among the jesters

Voice for all the mimes

 

Reason, when excuses falter

Questioner, when answers fail

 

Link between the seasons

 —first breath a baby wails

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

The Last Chant

The one answer left to me

 is captured in verse

 

Old roadmap destroyed

 old play unrehearsed

 

The light becomes blocked

 as it shines from without

 

Its story an old one

 its warmth left in doubt

 

The road to this moment

 paved over in verse

 

Its bedrock a question

 an inner rebirth

 

My eyes closing tightly

 the last chant has begun

 

Past-future in ruins

 as within—I become

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

Life’s Epilogue

Crossing over,

  I thought it’d be different

 

Crossing over,

  I thought things would change

 

Crossing over,

  I thought I’d be better

 

Crossing over,

  I fought through the rain

 

Now looking back,

  I see demurely

 

Now looking back,

  I see through the fog

 

Now looking back,

  I see more clearly

 

Now looking back

  —through life’s epilogue

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Gabriel Calls

My heart belongs to providence,

   as I walk that final mile

 

My footsteps bought and paid for,

  as I clear the last denial

 

My faith is bold and steadfast,

  as new rain begins to fall

 

Through the fog a horn is blowing

  the gate now open—Gabriel calls

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Reborn

Is life about how many

  or then about how much

 

Is the truth in computation

  or in what those numbers touch

 

Is the measurement empiric

  with a final answer shown

 

Is salvation in the lyrics

  with the word count still unknown

 

Is there faith inside the mystery

  that mere reason can’t abide

 

Is there something deep inside you

  that excuses cannot hide

 

Is there a wind that blows indulgent

  carrying an echo from before

 

With a voice that speaks the loudest

  the one you listen to—reborn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)