I am artist

I am artist
Maker by my hands
With paintbrush or pen
I transcript existence
I am painter and poet
A maker by poiesis
Of language of dialect
A hymn or poetic picture.
Color is my light
My green a perception
Of wavelength of yellow and blue.
I am emerald like ocean to grow my way as chlorophyll
I am camouflaged
In green seen being through
The Chinese cuckold green
But dark skinned men
Green eroticized
Green will decay
When jealousy and evil lay
The green eyed monster lives

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poem by David E. Patton
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When the Parents Refuse to Come Home

When the parents refuse to come home
The children sleep beneath the babysitter’s skirt.
She will eat you out of house and home.
When the parents refuse to come home
The children shall set the house on fire,
And the babysitter shall save the family pet
That is content to be hand fed at the breast.
This night the parents are outside the loop,
They are out for a night on the town to renew their bound without the incessant want of children who shall burn the house down for attention.
The babysitter is watching TV under the blaze of the burning house where the family pet snicks beneath the smoke colleted by the ceiling.
When the parents stay out all night the children are discontented with the babysitter who have no time for children, she rather babysat the TV.
The babysitter refuse to pay taxes on her earning, she have parked the children in their beds where they learn the art of conversation from the TV.
The parents are having fun while the children are safe in the dream shatter of the right brain telling midnight stories of the day’s doings and the babysitter has invited her boy friend over for the night and he will eat you out of house and home while in their dream the children are buring the house down.
When the parents dance the night away in the night club the children are dreaming of the violent of the babysitter who eat the last of the pot roast left over from dinner.
When the parents refuse to come home the babysitter is contemplating the meaning of death and dying in the burning house.
The babysitter will grow up to become a parent and she will hire a babysitter when she go out to dance the night away as her children burn the house down.

poem by David E. Patton
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Sisterhood

Sisterhood
Desperate names
She of fore came
Good town of wood
Down to the front porch
When them banned children
Was birthed river children
Of Orion’s light and
Of all that is bright
Worth weight right earth
The mean majesty of arched
Lovers back to front
Being in their bodies else-minded
Toward sex pressing together
Their comfort feeling each other
The sister touch
Black arch women about
Being women over gales
Of Wales and thickly quails
In Kansa corn growing woman

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poem by David E. Patton
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With All Your Wishes

With all your wishes
We wish your pursue toward humor
For the first free flower’s bloom
It live to grow soon
Let it be the fat that govern the moon
There is no sense in trying to out live the suicide of the sun
Often we wish for the handsomeness of horses
Or the river running its watery way forever young
Pass the rain each dropp baptized by the wind
These words are the same as the song we sing
As sure as the poets will tell you that you are the same as them
A telling from deep within the realness of their hearts
Tell you that you are their longing loving needs
Their drama writ by the people the earth the air the infinite of the sun with its glorious morning fair
With reasons to know where men go
With reasons of the everything right and the doing of wrong
The thrill and the glory of victory’s success
Of the grief that war makes when the banner of peace is dead on the throne of conflict between opposite
Their pens of swords be not lost in the paradise of words
Their trumpets speak running around the same old tune holding on to you to tell you true that they are a lot like you

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poem by David E. Patton
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Roots crack concrete

Roots crack concrete
Dump blue replace green
Light component beams
Steady warm wonder brim
The tops of cascading things.
Yellow flux orange’s beauty
Widen smiles blend its back bone bent.
Creation overlapping its source
Of what it meant.
Rough white foams the night
A fleet of red floods the death bed.
Mind scar is poured unheard by abstract rivers
Forgiveness sits at the kitchen table
Where understanding widen its brand.
Westward went west fingers of men.
Chill is lean in the skin.
Distance is concentrated on a nearby hill.
Persistence out last imperfect knowledge.
Deteriorating hearts nuzzle the soul.
The original day decays into darkness.

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poem by David E. Patton
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Yes I Am As happy As A Squirrel In The Dumpster

Yes I am as happy as a squirrel in the dumpster
As happy as maggots in the wound of a dying dog name Fluffy
In my happiness I am dying day by day and by the day I am to happy to pray
Yes dying of happiness found in the dumpster where we buried Fluffy
I am as happy as a smooth stone tied around the neck of a long day yes the long day falling like a stone
Yes the long day smooth as a neck that holds the head of a squirrel feeding in the dumpster of found food that human throw away against the hunger of the world that is too hungry to pray for happiness
I have buried my feet in a pit of maggot blinded by hunger they are dreaming of getting wings but I will throw them away yes yes I will throw them all away because of their hunger hanging heavily around the neck of a smooth stones that falls like the clouds that leaks their heavy liquid load in the long light of the day and the day is as happy as I am who will not pray
I am lost yes lost in the wounded warmth of a dumpster where happiness is as long as the day
I am as happy as a pig wallowing in a muddy ditch
Yes the long day has ditched the sun and the night is happy to be muddyed by stars
I am a pig when it comes to happiness and I say yes when it comes I am yes I am long in my happiness
It is hard won by the muddy love of human warmth packed beneath the sheets where the long day sleeps
I am as happy as a Robin with a beak full of worms
Yes I worm my way throught happiness as the long day worms its way out of night that has buryed the sun with its own happiness full of warmth packed beneath the space from which the stars come
I am as happy as one who stands out against the many lost in the many of ones who have lost their oneness in the collected warmth of the many
Yes I am one with happiness that collect for me the lost warmth found in a ditch that acts as a dumpster
I am lost in my happiness and I have forgotten how to pray yes I have forgotten how to because with my happiness there is no need to beg the begger of Gods
Yes there is no need to beg the forgotten Gods

poem by David E. Patton
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02-02-2011 Cruel phenomenons

02-02-2011

Cruel phenomenons
gibberish of the smart
fluency of glossolalia
religions grouped into
inconsistencies of art
language of the speakers
the heads of church and state
cubcortical structures
lays waste the human's spiritual
mental waste
meanings authorization
rhythmical tongues
Protestant denomination
burns away the
bibliographical mentality
full of authorization
I Corinthian
breaks down the factors

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poem by David E. Patton
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This Is Not A Confessionam Poem

This is not a confessional poem
I confess that I have written this
Not a romantic poem
Under the watch of the archangel of Blake’s vision
A l=a=n=g=u=a=g=e= p=o=e=m=
A loaf Of poem a gallon Of words a pint Of letters
A so-so go for broke poem
So so son and so said
An acrostic poem
None near Aim to be called
Mindfully toward the Eternity of the thing
An epitaph poem
He lays David E. Patton
Never one to believe in heaven
So when he dies he did spy

A free verse poem
A sonnet poem
A know it all poem for the masses
This is not a minute poem

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poem by David E. Patton
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Reeducating by any means necessary to achieve the revitalization and realignment of the black soul

Consorting with the enemy
Needless to say it is painful
To speak of some blacks people as the enemy
But it is necessary to dispel
The well meaning harm within the good wishes
And good book
Of the church
Each Sunday the bells rings out
Calling the faithful dressed in their finest
With hats tipped to the side they strive
With a pride of self that belies
The dream deferred.
The young Richard Allen and Absalom Jones
Were not misguided in so far
As their shared vision was authentic and so on
July 17,1794 a new kind of bondage
Of oppression was forged into the chain of slavery
And worship to be used in the service of colonization
Of the black mind and spirituality,
Francis Scott Key who wrote

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poem by David E. Patton
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02-04-2012 Brother I give you my answer for Black People African Sahara it mesmerizes the wise largest desert it is asked of we What is Africa is to me 3.3 million miles of grea

Brother I give you my answer
for Black People

African Sahara
it mesmerizes the wise
largest desert
it is asked of we
What is Africa is to me
3.3 million miles
of great desert
once a forest
once a great sea
once an empty hole
in space just waiting
to be that it can
birth the blackness
of who my mothers be
3.3 millions
you can not see it all
Trans Saharan trade

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poem by David E. Patton
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