Kurt Philip Behm

No Place To Hide (+4)

I harbor a mean spirit

but not in my soul

He roams through my

consciousness as havoc and pain

Trying to break through

to that place where he’s banned

Trying to break through

to where my innocence lives

Again and again he forces 

his will

But it all goes for naught  

and he waits till I sleep

Where Laura’s on guard

in my dreams to protect

With insomniac hell

he still tries to invade

Her will ever stronger

than his fleeting advance

Each night he comes knocking

as she turns him away

Until with mocking futility

he warns me at last

In words that are cursed

and bathed in disgust…

 

“You can run to your Muse

  and hide if you wish

 

“But temptation and trial

  are served from my dish

 

“Go be safe in the womb

  but remember outside

 

“When you leave her protection

   —there is no place to hide”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016) 

 

 

Free Of Its Stain

 

There’s a hope that exists beyond reason,

  like the refrain of a well written song

 

There’s a tragedy entrapped in each season,

  where right is still captive of wrong

 

There’s an Angel waiting to take you to heaven,

  across that river of torrent and pain

 

Where true joy in the act of forgiving

  —washes guilt completely free of its stain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

 

 

Just Because

 

The most important things don’t need a reason…

  —just because

 

The falling leaves beyond their season…

  —just because

 

The sun trades the night to the rising moon…

  —just because

 

The lateness that brings one last final adieu…

  —just because

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

 

 

Literate Quicksand

 

Did you edit away the fire,

  in your attempt to be correct

 

Do your words make you a liar,

  as they break and disconnect

 

Is that order you chased after,

  now a deserted no-mans land

 

With your mind and spirit sinking

  —in a literate quicksand

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

 

 

I Hate

 

I hate the ‘Body

Politic’

 

Whose wave blasphemes

and grows

 

I battle to swim against

its tide

 

Or be abandoned in its

flow

 

I hate the way it stunts

my voice

 

‘Old Dominions’ chosen

side

 

I hate the fact—it’s hate

I feel

 

With the truth a captive

lie

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Inspired By My Friend & Poet Neal Hall