“We appreciate that cousin”
said the Rebel to the Yank
As all glory left the battlefield
where rows of corpses stank
“We appreciate that cousin”
as the bullets set to fly
“But our family’s set upon itself
—and one of us must die”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)
The Island & The Cloud
Between freedom and Instagram
there is an island,
where men go to be alone
An island of words
in arresting colors,
with meaning indicted—but seldom heard
Between Facebook and tomorrow
a cloud sits waiting,
where men go to find themselves
An Angel calling role
in blind acceptance,
all names rejected—the letters whole
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)
Throne Of Pain
Broken feelings…
My chest of gold
A torments ransom
No trinkets sold
The treasure bounteous
Walls lined with blood
Its hurt and pain
I have withstood
The jewels lack sparkle
But shimmer deep
Their cut and clarity
My soul to keep
And words if cheapened
Must leave this throne
As the lid reopens
—on the pain I own
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
To Guide Me Within
Dreams carry me across
a mysterious land
Where the voice of my fathers
so gently commands
It echoes quite softly
in words only sung
A joyous recital,
rewoven and spun
I never can stay there,
I’ve begged till I weep
And with barely a whisper,
I’m roused from my sleep
But when darkness befalls
on my world once again
A new dream will come calling
—to guide me within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
The Torch
Not cute or in genre,
in tune or in tone
A message drives forward,
the muse casting stones
Untimely, eternal,
her voice speaking fast
My pen now a torch
—the darkness is past
(Barnes & Noble-Plymouth Meeting Pa: January, 2016)