I hide in the shadow
of another’s fear
so the voice may go away
And then left
inside an orphan’s silence
to recount every wordless day
To walk a path
that another breaks
under a dark forbidden sky
Crying those tears
by another made
—my pen bereft and dry
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
April Bleeding
March
brought me closer
to the spoken word
March
created thunder
never before heard
March
left forever its stamp
and imprint
March
so predacious
April bleeding
—in red ink
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Turning Black
To write poetry on the battlefield…
intrepid from the heart
Its words to cover scars and wounds
grief peeling back like bark
Each verse fired like a rifle shot
with bayonet attached
All volleys sharp and to the point
the blood spilled—turning black
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
No One, And Nothing
No one is going to grant you salvation
until you try and save yourself
Nothing is going to award you redemption
with cards from others dealt
No one is going to save your soul
until you set your past on fire
And nothing is going to make you whole
—until you proclaim the myth a liar
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Literary Wanderer
Unadulterated and pure
the thoughts left my mind
Untrained and unschooled
no restrictions to bind
The page below virgin
as I lower my pen
A literary wanderer
—starting over again
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Worst Of All
You can’t
Or you won’t…
The result is the same
The difference
Decision,
And it’s yours once again
You can’t
Or you won’t…
Chief excuse of the small
When you won’t
Then you can’t
—and the won’t worst of all
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015
Indentured
Music is more slave to fashion
—than the written or spoken word
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Lost Pawn
The past and tomorrow
—from today only borrow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
The True Meaning
My ancestors were all very simple men,
so I could be more than that
They taught me early and taught me true
what was special—and then to give back
These fathers now sit at my spiritual feast,
true giants of a forthcoming age
And as I write down the words, I am reminded again
—of the true meaning of being a Sage
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
From The Heavens Sent
My spirit will never truly die
as words continue to give
My body once committed to sky
my soul forever to live
Voices I’ve carried inside for so long
now a chorus of octaves set free
The songs they sing from the heavens sent
ever heartened, enchanted—decreed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)