The Poet dilettante, pretty words,
—not much else
Your world falls apart, head buried,
darkness felt
Shangi-la’s luxury, your dreams
can’t afford
Rome’s pillars under siege, strong words
must accord
Through hundreds of millenia what has been
learned
“Freedom is won by blood when all cowardice
spurned”
Unwilling to fight the enemies fire
with fire
Your good intentions to burn,
—your ashes bemired
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
The Burn
If you’re not willing to fight the fire,
—you\'re entitled to the flames
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Too Short To Dare
Asking life to meet half way,
you always lag behind
The focus on the things you lack,
not the gold you mine
All compromise and copping out,
your table left half bare
The brass ring distant and remote,
—your reach too short to dare
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Caught In The Jaws
Reaching into the demon’s mouth,
the search entraps and burns
With every click and byte we choose,
the less we seem to learn
Our privacy we save as bait,
the wolves set free to run
Stripped and naked, to live as prey,
—our pasts now theirs to hunt
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)