Skin Prickles

Skin prickles,

Blood boils,

Barbs catch flesh

Tearing bits and pieces.

Words are arrows striking my soul,

Bleeding and angry I cry out.

Why…why does bating frustrate,

I promised it wouldn’t!

It would never be allowed to spoil me,

But it has once again.

Deep breaths, eyes closed, I must let it go,

Regaining my center,

Banishing my anger to the netherlands,

For my own sanity I must forgive

Allowing others to believe as they will.

They too are trying to find their way;

Looking for answers through consensus or conflict.

I must learn to accept this with a smile

Offering them nothing,

But love and silence.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


History Repeats

History repeats

When in the hands of such fools

Yet we act as sheep

Why no popular outrage

Why no rolling of their heads

In conflict we lose

Covert forces we back turn

Unleashing turmoil

Whose weapons do they use…ours

Perpetuating terror

Al-Qaeda is ours

A monster we created

Now there is ISIS

Born of a foul petri dish

What could we have expected

When we choose to interfere


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


The Answer

The answer…easy!

Truth in a four letter word,

That’s what love is.

Dissolving hate and conflict

Were it not for our innate flaws.

There never was any other key

To pick our lock of despotism.

We held it all along,

But are either too afraid

Or too self-absorbed to us it.

This is the root of our evil,

Leading to our ultimate demise

Unless we insert key in lock

And turn it to the right.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Beneath the Shell

Credit -

Credit –

By D. R. DiFrancesco


We look upon this world as an oyster

Rough, hard and jagged to the touch

Awash with the dirt and grit of life’s tribulations

It lies burrowed in the muck to hide from conflict

Still we claw and rake in the filth for the treasure it holds

Drawing it out from the safety of it’s dingy home

It’s shell is not easily unlocked

Clamped down tightly to protect itself from pain

Reluctantly the shell is pried open

Gradually and over time we are revealed

In a flood our surroundings rush in

Exposing virgin skin to the unfamiliar

Joy and excitement replace reluctance

What wonder is found in discovering your dreams

For beneath the newly uncovered flesh

Lies the pearl you have been longing for

Forgotten Warriors

Rock covered armored vehicle
Children and adult villages pelt
the vehicles with rocks as they pass

By D. R. DiFrancesco

I don’t pretend to know the feelings of war,

I’ve never served,

Instead living the joy and sorrow,

Loneliness and homesickness through my son.


Here I sit in my easy chair,

TV tuned to CNN,

Disgusted that there is no coverage,

Do they even remember we are at war?


I remember every waking hour of the day,

Passing my sons empty room,

Left as a constant reminder that he’s far from home,

Living in squalor, among Camel Spiders and Taliban.


He wrote,

Finally I realize…

Everything here wants to kill us,

My eyes welled up with tears.


He’s his own man now,

No longer can his mother and I protect him,

Our trust must be placed in his training,

Relying on his bravery and strength.


This makes it no easier,

Weeks pass with no word,

Sadness and worry are all consuming,

Struggling to maintain sanity.


Then a brief call or message online,

All is well, could you send me a few things,

I need new boots, snacks, vitamins,

My God its hot here.


For just a few moments there is happiness,

Content that for now he is safe,

Then he is gone again,

No word for weeks.


Sitting in my easy chair,

Still no coverage on TV,

Certain that they have forgotten.

Praying for the next call.


Don’t worry,

I’m safe and doing well.