Thrice Denied (+6)

Searching through the forest,

chasing dreams your sleep has wagered

 

And finding yourself in the mindless

spatial wasteland

 

You play two-handed poker

with the devil of your fright

 

The Prince holding just one card,

as you gamble it all…

 

Forever promising:

“This hand will be your ticket out”

 

He deals chance from the bottom,

this third time to be the charm

 

Your hand is folded,

as the present fires upon the night

 

Hitting your fate dead center,

all that’s left in quicker sand

 

Drowning the last excuse

of your bloodless past refusals

 

Salvation left in full retreat

—all exits thrice denied

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

Indifference

 

To inflict on tomorrow,

the empty promises of fate

 

The will to reign indifferent

—the devil’s cruelest form of hate

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

 

The Ink Is Calling

 

Suspended moments between the lines,

my mind now lost in space

 

Sublimated syntax buried deep,

my spirit free to race

 

A light unfiltered, the sound of horns,

my body starts to rise

 

The ink is calling, my pen in hand,

new words at last—arrive

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017) 

 

 

Into Their Hands

 

Dreams, like orphaned water lilies,

float across the surface

 

Ferrying my last token wish,

adrift—this silver pond

 

The swans make way,

as faith glides freely upon the wind

 

Carrying my fervent hopes

into this moment, present sent

 

Their petals weaving in the breeze,

to spin and turn as one

 

Silhouettes change and soften,

as the mirrored distance calls

 

Arriving at the far bank,

two children play and laugh together

 

With pant legs high and feet immersed,

splashing to and fro

 

Smiling to each other, their laughter

churns a magic torrent

 

As they reach into its spray,

and take my dream into their hands

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

Not My Wound

 

I never wrote so you’d approve…

I wrote what I believe

 

How you felt as you read those words

—is not my wound to bleed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

To Be Alone

 

I go to the city

To be alone…

Distraction

Calling me away

From myself

Isolating my

Memory

Burying my

Thoughts

In endless concrete

Passing 1000 people

Never meeting

One

Never meeting

One

Who will tell me

About myself

Never meeting

One

Who will tell me

What is real

Never meeting

One

Who will ask the question

Why

In my darkest

Most confused

Moments

I go to the city

—to be alone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

Optimus Amicus

 

Is your best friend a dog,

a thesaurus is mine

 

As yours wags its tail

—mine forever sets me free

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)