Journalistic integrity…
give me a break
Your lies are on fire,
there’s hell at the gate
Journalistic integrity,
the wages of sin
All truth has been twisted,
your speech has worn thin
Journalistic integrity,
oxymoron disclosed
Two words now in conflict,
their corruption exposed
Journalistic integrity,
death by your own hand
All blame you relinquish
—your lies to withstand
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Memory Hacked
When you’re inside,
you can always get out
But stuck outside,
you must plead and then shout
“please let me
“please let me
“please let me in”
This darkness unending,
my veneer wearing thin
“please let me
“please let me
“please let me back”
My key has been stolen
—my memory hacked
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Glass Houses
Stopping just short of judgment,
his mind took a leap
Whose soul rose as substance,
now ready to speak
Words before never uttered,
or spoken in vain
This acknowledgement followed,
crying out in refrain…
“The joy in the brotherhood
all torment by choice
“To share in celebration,
we alone can’t rejoice
“The critic inside us,
the judger of sins
“Is best left in silence,
till it targets within”
As time will remind us,
and these words will recall
All biting reprisal
—the coward’s downfall
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Daniel
Remembering my Grandfather,
forgetting my Dad
Wanting to be near him,
paternal influence bad
He loved without question,
his smile blocked the sun
And without his embracing
—my life on the run
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Lost Sounds
Written fragments
Broken songs
Stepping stones
To hope beyond
Music absent
Long at bay
Vagrant notes
—last wish to play
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Twins Of Siam
You stir it one way, and they the other,
but the mixture stays just as hot
You attack their motives, and they attack yours,
while the contents boil and rot
“It needs to be this way”… the other side revolts,
“Your mind’s faulty with avarice and greed”
The pot has simmered; the broth is thick,
and its bottom not easy to see
A mutual exclusion, first left and then right
a feast—all soul’s consumed
With spoon or fork, its offering slick,
when the bowls come out at noon
In single file, day turns into night,
pointed talk with nothing said
Both cupboard’s bare, two rat’s within,
guarding their last crust of bread
When the final story is written and told,
of what in concert you destroyed
A drum will beat, zero-sum complete,
leaving you soulless—but still conjoined
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June,2016)
In Your Eyes
Day surrounds your memory,
as evening frames your smile
But what I most remember
—is morning in your eyes
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Transformed Divine
Reading for inspiration
and not for fact
The words paint a picture
in my mind
Like dominoes falling
one by one
Each letter then the next
so inclined
My fingers enliven
and start to draw
A vivid story
new image sublime
All colors reborn
as each phrase is set free
The ink now transformed
—and divine
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Until It Will
It isn’t…
until it is
It wasn’t…
until it was
It shouldn’t be…
until it should
It won’t be…
—until it will
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
\'At Bay\'
Start looking outside your frame of reference,
for that which will stand you alone
Stop longing for praise or high endorsement,
things only borrowed or loaned
Start feeling those words you preach unto others,
no longer hiding yourself away
Stop blaming the time and the message it brings
—for those excuses that keep you ‘at bay’
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The Dance
Prose or Poetry,
the music is calling
A waltz or a tango
—conjecture or blood
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Academia\'s Lantern
Formal education,
requires a fence
With borders to confine,
and logic intense
Three letters that matter,
the I, S, and M
Each school suffixed over,
its member’s defend
Realism, Rationalism,
Idealism all…
Each name its own failing,
as verity calls
True thought has no class
or Academie named
It stands on its own,
the truth its sole claim
With knowledge in conflict,
the days turn to night
Academia’s lantern
—burned out in the fight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The Devil\'s Luck
You can’t step into the same river twice,
and have the water be the same
You can’t throw wishes into the wind,
and recall them time unclaimed
You can’t put a baby back in the womb,
once the cord of life has been cut
And you can’t change a lie into the truth,
your intention—the devil’s good luck
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Darkness To Dawn
No one ever dies for an idea,
until it changes to a feeling
No one ever dies for a feeling
—until darkness points to dawn
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)