Meow
My kitty cat thinks
That I'm a little mad
I know this for a fact
As she said on the phone
Complaining it's absurd
For an animal to talk
Or use lateral dexterity
To use a telephone
So either she is lying
Or I am a little mad
For the only thing she utters
Is a guttural single vowel
Her words not mine
I'll translate in Cat-toniest
This solitary term
That proves I'm not so mad...
MEOW
poem by Kevin Patrick
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The prologue of Breath
Heaven is Hell, upside down
Wherever you view it, will be your crown
Paint the jewels in a color
In amorphous arms, keep you in slumber
Awake to the dream; know it’s real
The taste of reality is always quite sour
The faithful laugh in ridicule
Pause unconcern: relief is for the medicinal
Above the sky sits the empty world of space
One day you’ll find it can be a very busy place
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Nostalgias Drug Trafficking
Beauties ugliness
is times growing divide
Every spring's may flower
Becomes a Locus of pride
Until the steel blade of winter
Demolishes all selfish brides
And all fatal attractions
Encumber new wisdom lines
The taste of the apple
Sours when it has falling
Recoil the serpent
Who prays during its shedding
On a highway of deserts
Where Martyrs of sinning
Impede with excellence
Nostalgias drug trafficking
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Alternative Professions for Politicians
A surgeon can moonlight as a clown
Just as a commercial air pilot can sing
While soprano player can juggle motherhood
Tandem to performing recreational catering
A teacher can bake, and Lawyers can wait
And chimpanzees are educated in the art of greeting
(Which I've been told they have found know one worth speaking)
But as far as I know a politician has only one alternative profession -
Theater and Larceny
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Welcome to the Club
Welcome to the club
Of six billion people
Each one convinced
There a membership of one
And constantly asserting
That they're all alone
While everyone around them
Searches daily too belong
In activities and routines
Finding diversions and pursuits
But always saying no one knows
The pain of smiles suffering
When everyone has a card
In a membership of one
To a club that has 6 billion
And growing more alone.
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Newspaper
A news paper cried
Helvetica Serifs Leaking runny ink blots
across the front banner
It tried to be brave attempting false poise
But it knew the story
Crackling its paper
Like editions before and those that come after The Imminent interest was just the front features
Becoming compost
It moves with acceptance whatever its story It's just yesterday's news
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Butterfly Words
A poem is a catch
Of butterfly words
That I chase with a pen
Within a paper mesh
The similes scamper
But I pinch their rims
My eyes are for rhyme
Though I never have time
I seek to make beauty
Collected in prose
In a language safari
For a substitute Hobby
My styles amateur
And not so complex
But I love a good Verse
With rare Haiku figures
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Eros
Liberate Atlas and give his triceps a break
He's done enough squats with the continents as weight
Let Sisyphus rest after carrying the stone
Charge him pro bono and let all his crimes be atoned
Give Echo surgery so she can say hello
Instead of always speaking as a repetitive cello
Absolve Prometheus as supper for the vultures
Men should never wrought with the knowledge they aspire
But for Euros I remit all pardons towards
His contributions have brought love equal to wars
poem by Kevin Patrick
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What Does An Electron Think About Ethics?
What does an electron think about ethics?
When it's socially antisymmetric
And refusing to work with its brothers
Including anyone charged positronic
Perhaps its works best at long distance
With good friends named protons and neutrons
To provide a strong working dynamic
In respect to magnetic connections
Maybe if you respect personal space
It will fire to the right applied wire
Ballancing the positive and negative
Under duress to occupational hazards
What does an electron think about ethics?
On and off depending the currents
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Deadly Whispers
Insidious vapours hang
Pressure cookers in the air
Weaved by an arachnids tongue
Telling tales with satin truths
It's in the cafe killer's drink
Sentences with "I heard..."
Depicting facts for their concoctions
Until their elementary denouncements
Sometimes it is the wind
Hitting repute like a knife
From a cold war armistice
Leaving short change on a life
Small talk doesn't leave scars
Just craters for caricatures
For what is said in subdued tones
Can lead to passive violence
Yes it is a syndrome of sociopaths
The mark of deadly whispers
poem by Kevin Patrick
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