A brothel of sorts–
This cesspool of words
Each a whore waiting for its next trick.
Johns–
Sentences,
Paragraphs,
Stories,
Poems,
Cheap and dirty,
Looking for a little love and affection.
Through the two-way mirror
Voyeurs read the filthy act;
Drooling over each thrust of the pen,
Until the climax
When the page collapses
In its ink soaked ecstasy,
Ah…such a sweet release.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
I live life walking amongst the masses
Seeing stories in every face,
In every wrinkle, smile, frown,
In every scar and freckle,
Real or imagined they speak to me.
Their silence, writing volumes,
Horror, action, romance, fact, fiction,
Genre’–It is for me to decide,
Bending reality into a thing of make believe.
My entertainment is paramount,
Turning the commonplace to adventure,
Breathing life into the mundane.
This is the art, the medium unimportant,
Though mine is of the word.
Looking in the mirror
You could not possibly see what I see,
For it lives only in my mind
Until it boils over onto paper.
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Living this stage show
Scripted as Heaven or Hell
So Shakespearean
At times its a comedy
At others a tragedy
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Travel to cliffs of Scotland tall
Ancient cities with golden scroll
Coliseum of wonder your columns fall
Time, wind and rain have taken their toll
~
Fairytale lands with walkways of gold
Rabbits, a queen and Mad Hatters
Through Grimm and Poe the stories unfold
Whether Jack and his beanstalk does itt matter
~
Absorbed in Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
A cup of tea with Sherlock Holmes
Or Steinbeck’s exquisite Grapes of Wrath
When a Tree Grows in Brooklyn you’re never alone
~
Traveling around the world in 80 days
Digging treasure on an island deserted
Meeting the end in Moby Dick’s’ way
Though Scrooge’s demise is diverted
~
Dumas’ Musketeers are dashing them all
A letter of scarlet emblazoned
The howl of the wolf in the wild was called
Romeo and Juliet still amazes
~
The beauty of words in fiction, poem or prose
Allows travel to faraway lands
Mystery, adventure or as love stories show
The pricelessness of books in the hand
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
I’ve blamed you for my failures
My lack of progress and time
I’ve blamed you for my regrets
Even before I knew you
Denial is such a fickle friend
Used as a crutch to discredit one’s shortcomings
This is nothing more than a charade
A game I have played for a lifetime
A look inside bore the reflection of truth
It was me all along
My own worst enemy
Incessant procrastination has held me back
Over-thinking every minute detail has crippled me
Accomplishments lay out of reach to no one else’s fault
It was never you at blame for my failures
Nor my lack of progress or time
Regrets were never realized through you
I have deflected my imperfections long enough
The mirror has parlayed a harsh reality
Leaving me exposed to the frailty that has been the catalogue of my life
With eyes splayed wide, the path before me is clear
Freeing me to pursue all that I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding out of fear
For this I am forever grateful to you
In spite of me
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
Dom DiFrancesco 