“I don’t splain myself,”
Bill Hickok said
before his Colts went off
A dead man lying
at his feet
—his legend time embossed

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

Is there room
in your ignorance
for truth to creep in

Are the doors
closed and locked
from inside and within

Will the light
truly gifted
pass over and by

Is your meadow
a wasteland
—and haven for lies

(Dreamsleep: November, 2023)

What have we but life
both first and last
The rest an illusion
—of future’s past

(Dreamsleep: May, 2023)

Rays Of Light

Information contextual
never absolute
Naked in isolation
relative and moot

Inspiration celestial
gifted from the throne
Sending rays to light the dark
— truth to stand alone

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)

Science

One step
forward
two steps back

Look around
you
see the facts

Sky scraped
cities
health care gods

Obese
on drugs
gender fog

Ghetto
masters
children ******

War
a plaything
religion owned

Information
but a mask
to hide us from the truth

DNA
and quantum theory
— kills the Golden Goose

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)


Dreamsleep

No words into boxes
all Muses set free
Not quatrain or sonnet
or limerick for me
The feeling’s unleashing
the verse as decreed
Whose words birth inside me
— unspoken in dreams

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)


Feelings

They come to
me vacant

No plans
to deceive

In silence
they wait

My words
— to conceive

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)

Riding a giant wave,
dancing with God
Running from the Devil
—to the edge of beyond

(Waimea Bay: February, 1963)

Joplin was to Southern Comfort,
what Hendrix was to smack
Morrison was to masquerade,
what Dylan never lacks

Woodstock was to 69,’
what music was to rhyme
Saigon was to those who stayed,
what Auschwitz now reminds

Kennedy was to hopes and dreams,
what nightmares were to some
Castro was to leftist thugs,
what cymbals are to drums

Kissinger was to Nixon
an Appian Way to roam
Dr. King to civil rights,
what kings are to their thrones

Walter Cronkite was to news,
what context was to fact
Altar boys were to their Priests,
what pretzels are to snacks

58,000 were to die,
what a wall was to proclaim
58,000 were to all
—what conscience is to shame

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Be home
when opportunity
knocks
Your door
left open
— lights aglow

(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)

Competition ...
what keeps us alive
Sharpening our edges
fueling our drive

Setting new benchmarks
pushing the bar
Forever defining
— just who we are

(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)

I wrote them
for the wind
not publication

I wrote them
for the now
future be ******

I wrote them
in a sweet
anticipation

I wrote them
to release
— upon the land

(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)

The wandering Poet,
so wild—so free

With each mile walked,
a new reverie

Eight Muses to guide him,
his steps fall in line

Their prophecy calling,
their message sublime

The wandering Poet
won’t stop till he’s done

All motion incessant,
all verse zero-sum

His trail can be seen
by those willing to climb

Their destiny’s marked
—their pasts left behind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Poison Ivy

Academia …
cesspool
of deception
harbinger
— of lies

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)


Occam’s Edge

Plurality
without necessity
— pandering time

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)


The Right Fork

Newness …
birth mother
to anticipation

(From ‘Calling Me Home:’ May, 2024)

In all things
  there is a bitterness,
  that time tries to hide

In all things
  there is a loneliness,
  coming from inside

In all things
  there is a telling,
  where tomorrow may be shown

In all things
  there is a reckoning
   —where truth and lies atone

(Dreamsleep: May, 2019)

The higher you rise
the thinner the air
The more that’s at risk
the less there’s to dare
As oxygen falters
your head becomes light
And looking above you
fear turns to delight
The sun is setting
far over the peak
The summit awaits
whose answers you seek
With twilight retreating
your flag in the rock
You enter the madness
— descending unlocks

(Memories Of Sagarmatha: April, 1981)

A Romantic is always afraid deep inside
expectations will never come true

Chasing a mirage that stays beyond reach
waiting and hoping in lieu…

A Romantic betroths those lies of the heart
in amorous moments to roam

Wooing a dream that’s jilted by sleep
to wander, to wonder—alone

(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)

If there was no one
to believe
would there still
be truth

If there was no one
to tell
would silence
take root

If there was no one
to laugh
would smiles
be gone

If there was no one
to love
would all feeling
— abscond

(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)

Be in awe of yourself,
ever struck with delight

Gift wrapping your thoughts,
in the goodness of life

Treasure the memories,
letting go of the pain

Releasing the wonder
—as Heaven proclaimed

(High Point North Carolina: April, 2017)

A bigger bite of life
for a hunger meant to last
Insatiable inherence
starvation my repast

Partaking of tomorrow
in dreams of future feasts
Anticipations banquet
—where ravenous I eat

(Dreamsleep: September, 2023)

Often
in the space
of words unspoken
— truth most dearly hides

(The New Room: February, 2025)

An enigma
wrapped in mystery
covered in secrets
risking hell
A legend
from the ages
bereft of sages
casting spells
The message
nondescriptive
in ephemera
laden tongues
Lucy in the sky
bejeweling
screaming deafness
— silence won

(Dreamsleep: April, 2024)

A Mississippi back road,
burns in my mind

Its memory twice buried,
resurfaces, reminds

That Mississippi back road,
you once led me down

Perdition, destruction
—damnation refound

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Why does your religion
have to disfavor mine
To speak to its converts
and prattle Divine

Foundations this slanted
are poised for a fall
Appeasing their zealots
who follow and maul

More killed by religion
in His holy name
Than famine and pestilence
ever can claim

The tenets left foreign
to God’s true intent
Epiphanies barren
—all grace to relent

(Villanova University: December, 2021)

Brian died
taking
part of me
with him

The part
that he
lent me
in 1966

Brian died
and the
colors
diminished

The notes
out of rhythm
and time
— left unmixed

(Pet Sounds-Ocean City N.J.: July, 1966)

For me,
one time is not enough
Canyons widen
neath mountain bluffs

For me,
each time lay unforeseen
Magic transient
—a richer dream

(Montrose Colorado: September, 2021)

Loving one woman…
  a joy unto heaven

Loving two women…
  a curse upon the soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

A stitch past nine on borrowed time,
memories come rushing back

The Wolf is feasting in Grandma’s bed,
Red Riding Hood a snack

A Cow gets ready to jump again,
but the moon drops from the sky

Humpty Dumpty a mess on the floor,
Tweedle-dum starts to cry

The candle burns for Jack’s last jump,
a quickening funeral pyre

The stepmother screams, Cinderella hides,
her daughter’s dress on fire

Little Jack Horner abandons his corner,
curds harden and whey runs aground

As Mother Goose watches the Grimm Brothers die
—not a child in sight to be found

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Every scepter, every throne,
reverts again anew

The god’s, their will divided,
in Iliads of truth

All wars of good intention,
paved avenues to hell

Honor shamed by Zeus renamed
—that horse where judgment dwells

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Entrapping the magic,
philosophers moan

Theory after theory,
no meat on the bone

They label and mark,
their didactics retooled

Force feeding their ramble
to dilettante-fools

And when in the end
they are then proven wrong

They slink back to their hollows,
where the vanquished now throng

But a new tier of ‘masters’
has taken their place

To lecture and spiel
—and pontificate

(Baldwin School: March, 2021)

She never kissed you
till she hated you

Her feelings deadly
—her motives dark

(Aldwyn: March, 2021)

All those years,
you didn’t hear me

All those years,
you seemed so sure

All those days,
you laughed it off

All those nights,
I wanted more

All those lies,
that dug our gravesite

All those tears,
with feeling gone

Now at last
my closet’s empty

Love fell short
—I stayed too long

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

In a fantasyland
of their own creation
politicians spawn
Spreading their eggs of division
and lies
among bottom feeding pawns

Propagating treason
corruption and graft
to freely flow downstream
Carrying our destiny
over the falls
— of shattered broken dreams

(The New Room: February, 2024)

If Art
is our connection to the senses

Then Poetry
is our connection to the soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Prose gets more from poetry,
than poetry from prose

Verse a wellspring where phrases drink
—whose waters flow and flow

(Villanova University: March, 2021)

What side can you judge infinity from,
  the front or then the back

If it’s never over, or never ends,
  how then can you protract

Can infinity stop and start again,
  would it be different or the same

Can judgment ever qualify,
  what it can’t even name

If generalizations are generally true,
  what can we really know

With the distance between our hopes and dreams,
  beyond what time can show

One step forward and one step back,
  micromanaging the present away

The ideas you profess, whose laws you tout,
   tethering emptiness—to illusions foray

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)

Some days my mind is hardened,
on others like a sponge

Today my thoughts are heartened,
with feelings on the run

Tonight as light transitions,
and darkness fills the void

My mind and heart will lay as one,
true lovers—dreams of joy

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Good taste
— wears no brand

(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)