Damnation Still Unrhymed (+2)

With verse in debt to time enslaved,

its prophecy of doom

 

Whose curse to sling like darts and arrows,

destined for the tomb

 

All words in red, as blood they drip,

from wounded hearts and minds

 

My breath to scorch with fire and salt,

—damnation still unrhymed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

 

 

Forever Wet

 

If no man is an island,

what can one man be

 

If no man stands alone,

to write the words, himself to free

 

If never beats that distant drum,

one marching out of step

 

Who will swim against the tide,

—their ink forever wet

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

 

 

 

Voices Not Your Own

 

“Don’t write for Poets,

their knives unclean

 

With jagged edges,

whose cuts demean

 

Their opinions frayed,

by wounds unseen

 

Whose righteous selves,

reflection preens”

 

Write for those listeners starved and wild,

with hearts not carved of jade

 

Call out to those aliens of the light,

still trapped within the shade

 

With words to christen and words unwashed,

no listener disowned

 

Each verse a prayer at best when sung,

—by voices not your own

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)