Are those thoughts you put in

what I once valued more

 

Or would what I put out

be the end winning score

 

Did I need your ears

for my voice to become whole

 

Or would I rather them deafened

words deep in my soul

 

In my twenties your opinion

carried some weight

 

In my thirties I listened

but asked you to wait

 

In my forties I turned

and walked slowly away

 

Now alone in the twilight

—to carry the day

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 All males undone

by the Lady Son

 

The trumpets blared

her fire

 

An Earl first came

her wrath unchained

 

To Charles

her heart aspired

 

All kingdom come

to face Lady Son

 

But to hell

their souls were laid

 

As her legend grew

and from banners flew

 

The name Joan

—all hearts to pray

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

I was walking in March

when from under the snow

—Spring reached up and grabbed me

 

In my path was a stem

pointing up from below

—a lone daffodil reaching toward me

 

My darkness was gone

a single robin in song

—with the cold still freezing the air

 

As my mood had been changed

all life rearranged

—my steps treading nary a care

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

Eternity shook,

as the words fell free

   —startled, but unafraid

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Are people religious because

they’re good?

 

Or good, because they’re

   religious?

 

The questions remain,

the verdict unclaimed

 

The wrong answer deemed

—sacrilegious

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

I’m covered in dirt,

but my words are still clean

 

A vision half dried

with stains running deep

 

With sinners and saints

arm in arm at the bar

 

Each infection we share

tonight’s hookup and score

 

Meaningless excuses

all scandal affirmed

 

My bed made with sheets

from a brothel once scorned

 

As I lie in the shadows

with my soul partly damp

 

My words are set free

—to the heavens restamped

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Has your violence

taken you to places

I’ve not been

 

Or driven you

to things

I’ve not seen

 

Was your soul

mired in conflict

once raised from the dead

 

Were your walls

built to fortify

excuses and blame

 

Have your choices

been forged by

damnation and fear

 

Did love matter at all

when it cried

through the pain

 

Could you still hear its voice

on those darkest

of nights

 

Were those places you

conquered

in tribute now damned

 

Did your victims

kneel down

their heads bowed in shame

 

Was mercy rejected

your mistress

defiled

 

Has your violence

taken you to places

I’ve not been

 

Or driven you

to things

I’ve not seen

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

 

 

It comes like

Seems like

Feels like

And speaks like

—a dream

 

That maybe

This instant

For once

And forever

—can mean

 

That yesterday

And tomorrow

Break ties

With the now

—and then free

 

The future

And past

From the

Present

—this moment to be

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

Chasing my thirst into the

desert at night,

Otis Redding was right….

“You don’t miss the water till the well runs dry”

 

And marrying the wrong woman

for the second time,

Smokey Robinson was right….

“You better shop around”

 

Writing my pen empty with the

same old words,

Cat Stevens was right….

“The first cut truly is the deepest”

 

And living in Macon because

I thought it was safe,

Charlie Daniels was right….

   “The devil did come down to Georgia”

 

Losing my religion only to

seek God again,

Robert Plant was right….

“You can’t buy a stairway to heaven”

 

And when I’m alone and desperate and have

   nowhere left to turn,

Bob Dylan was the most righteous of all….

“When you ain’t got nothin, you got nothin to lose”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

Can you be distracted by the critic

or the public acclaim

 

Can you see through the fire

and renew all that’s burned

 

Can you look past the signposts

and those messages fixed

 

Can your heart stay undamaged

as the world tempts your soul

 

Can you run through loud voices

with yours still unspoken

 

Can you make it to tomorrow

without leaving today

 

Can you give love to those hateful

with vengeance recalled

 

Can you carry your grandfather’s words

into the land of the unborn

 

Can you hang up your spear

inside the enemy camp

 

Can you live to see the beginning

and the end die at last

 

Can your voice remain pure

neither bartered nor loaned

 

Can you listen through the

smoke

   —for a melody unsung

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)