When is ‘Almost Good Enough’
never good enough?
When is ‘Clearly Not Enough’
an ounce more than enough?
When is ‘Almost What You Need’
the most you’ll ever have?
When is ‘It’s Not Only That’
the only thing that’s left?
When is ‘In Almost Every Case’
not in any case at all?
When is ‘In Lieu Of Everything Else’
the thing sure to be missed?
When is ‘In Actuality’
in real terms actually not?
When is ‘To Be Perfectly Honest With You’
the biggest lie you’ll hear?
When is the serious ‘Last Ditch Effort’
the one you continue to try?
When is the ‘Absolute Final Time’
the one you repeat again?
When is ‘Really’ not real at all
and spoken then in vain?
When is ‘Probably’ not probable
or even close to that?
When is the phrase ‘The Bottom Line’
the top of your agenda?
When is the trusted ‘Old College Try’
strictly out of school?
When is ‘Painstakingly Difficult’
the easiest thing you do?
When is ‘No Sweat—The Deal Is Done’
so much harder than before?
When is ‘Let’s Start At The Beginning’
the end of the debate?
When is ‘The Last Word On The Matter’
the beginning of what comes next?
When is ‘So What’ a euphemism
for the most important things you do?
When is ‘It Is What It Is’
categorically not, and never will be?
When is ‘The Bull In The China Shop’
ceramic and for sale?
When is the celebratory ‘Victory Lap’
the one taken in disgust?
When is the magical ‘Three Point Shot’
four points more than its worth?
When is the special ‘Love You Lost’
the only one you’ve never found?
When is the figurative ‘Bird In Hand’
the one that flies away?
When is ‘Bantering Back And Forth’
the silence you extol?
When will your words line with copper wire
to conduct the truth unrobbed
When will you cease to pander and mislead
—naked before the mob
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Chest With No Name
I keep my verse in a chest of drawers
each one so very different
Some words for summer, some for winter
and some then most intemperate
I keep the best one’s locked away
for those times when you’re around
To dress each phrase in sunlit fire
with silks and linens found
I fold each poem nice and neat
stacked end to end they lay
To sit and wait, my breath exhaled
until their chosen day
There’s one drawer open every night
in case my dreams conspire
The thickest warmest woolen clads
to wrap the image dire
One day I’ll will this chest of drawers
to my first born oldest son
And hope he wears each line as his
and lets the meanings run
And then to his son, he’ll pass on
when fate calls out his name
The drawers more full than when I left
—this chest without a name
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Never To Rest
I’m a Poet….
don’t try to trap me with words
or with logic you don’t understand
With your barrister’s training
you’re out of your league
this arena beyond your command
In some ways
I’ve already said it all
but never in the form you approve
Or with comforting platitudes
lining your shell
as pontification behooves
The slick easy answers
unfit for a Sage
but the pundit and liars attest
My message as spoken
comes at great cost
—your conscience never to rest
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
A Melody Unsung
Can you be distracted by the critic
or the public acclaim
Can you see through the fire
and renew all that’s burned
Can you look past the signposts
and those messages fixed
Can your heart stay undamaged
as the world tempts your soul
Can you run through loud voices
with yours still unspoken
Can you make it to tomorrow
without leaving today
Can you give love to those hateful
with vengeance recalled
Can you carry your grandfather’s words
into the land of the unborn
Can you hang up your spear
inside the enemy camp
Can you live to see the beginning
and the end die at last
Can your voice remain pure
neither bartered nor loaned
Can you listen through the
smoke
—for a melody unsung
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
When You Ain\'t Got Nothin
Chasing my thirst into the
desert at night,
Otis Redding was right….
“You don’t miss the water till the well runs dry”
And marrying the wrong woman
for the second time,
Smokey Robinson was right….
“You better shop around”
Writing my pen empty with the
same old words,
Cat Stevens was right….
“The first cut truly is the deepest”
And living in Macon because
I thought it was safe,
Charlie Daniels was right….
“The devil did come down to Georgia”
Losing my religion only to
seek God again,
Robert Plant was right….
“You can’t buy a stairway to heaven”
And when I’m alone and desperate and have
nowhere left to turn,
Bob Dylan was the most righteous of all….
“When you ain’t got nothin, you got nothin to lose”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)