Kurt Philip Behm

The Next Moonless Night (+5)

Its chain cut again…

   the demon is loose

 

Deep into the night,

  she hunts darker truths

 

The hallway’s back stairs,

  her favorite retreat

 

Pending daylight’s return,

  when her bite becomes weak

 

Then she staggers back wounded

  to shadows that call

 

Old blood trails lead silent  

  down that dark lonely hall

 

Where a door is rechained,

  and its lock fastened tight

 

 Until a hacksaw appears

    —with the next moonless night

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Veracity Returned

 

Lying to myself…

  the truth swimming free

 

Escaping prevarication,

  abandoning my schemes

 

The water got deep,

  its weight dragged and pulled

 

Till veracity returned

   —resuscitation fulfilled

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Fear Now My Prey

 

Repelled by tradition

  and past status-quo

 

I enter the jungle

  where hides the unknown

 

Rejecting excuses

  and all that’s passé

 

My bow is drawn tightly

  —with fear now my prey

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Your Lifeless Form

 

Do You Bore Yourself?

 

Do you rent the space

you’re standing in,

owning nothing in the end

but default?

 

Do you recycle words

until their utterance fails,

mistrusting your ability

to say what’s right?

 

Do you hedge your bets,

never going all in

for fear of losing the very thing

you haven’t got?

 

Do you count the days,

as tedium destroys spontaneity

and all energy drains

from your lifeless form?

 

Do You Bore Yourself?

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

This Moment At Hand

 

Living an eternity

  with each given day

 

The calendar a slave

  to the present foray

 

This moment at hand

  the only time you’re ordained

 

Exploding at once

  —over and over again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

Where Words Never Die

 

From whom was your legacy born,

  and where does your destiny lie

 

A voice calling out from the storm

   —a place where the words never die

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)