In Cold Blood (+7)

War is not a career

 —but a calling

 

Where dreams become martyred

   in cold blood

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

Never Destitute

 

In the darkest final hours,

  I began to write

 

And my words once spoken new

  from scattered ashes light the sky

 

To begin and end each day

  caught up in beauty’s distant wake

 

All loneliness filled by pages lined

  with happiness and joy

 

My fate betrothed, once mistress

  scorned

   —a lover more than wife

 

Whose vision so much sharper,

  her dissection cuts through bone

 

To slay the muted dragon’s fire

  in present tense delight

 

Beyond all past and future clouds

  above the darkening storm

 

To mate each breath and gifted word

  that heaven sends unwed

 

Never destitute in blessings shown

  —or in things I wish I’d said

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Last Domino

 

To change one word and rock the world,

   a verse now dancing free

 

Its weight unmeasured, breadth untold,

  whose key unlocks the dream

 

The bottle open, the genie gone,

  last domino to fall

 

One word pulled out, or inserted in

  —new meaning to enthrall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Dragons Caught

 

The tightness of the words

   protects the freedom of the thought

 

Whose voice when spoken gently

   —can silence thunder and dragons caught

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

Calling Inward

 

Are your wishes scribed in combat,

  are your hopes relined with pain

 

Is your motion found still wanting,

  as you climb the stairs again

 

Are your words now of this moment,

  is your verse free and sincere

 

Are your feelings calling inward

  —from a heart that’s yearning dear

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

 

 

 

A Choice

 

To those who seek acquaintance,

 I can’t and won’t befriend

 

No time that isn’t mortgaged,

 no hearts will I defend

 

Each day begins and ends

 with gifted words upon the page

 

My blood lay rediscovered,

 new memories to age

 

My spirit lost within the Muse,

 my shadow running free

 

Her fond acceptance zero-sum,

 her voice my destiny

 

To those who say they know me,

 my verse they must have read

 

That person lost before the scribe,

 much better left for dead

 

And in the moment present,

 where all things take their place

 

I give myself back to a choice

 —no friendship can replace

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)  

 

 

To Rage And Roar

 

My pen restrained and kidnapped,

   but ink bleeds evermore

 

Voices cry: “Something More Be Done”

   —fury to rage and roar

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: Dreamsleep-February, 2016)

 

 

Impavida

 

Blood in my fountain pen,

   phrases in my gun

 

Blasts of rapid insight

  —words that never run

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)