Kevin Patrick Poems

I eat peanut butter from a jar
Sitting quitly naked at the bar
Wired in frankincense and cheap olive oil
You can never spot where Ive hidden my old boil
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To My Mother a forgotten Martyr
Neither listed in a textbook,
or in the passing of a scripture
But the model of parental virtue
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I swam besides a unicorn
Inside a bowl of cereal
The bowl was tipped
And then I fell
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Through a tall grove, by a mouse stream,
Basking on a knoll in noonday
Watching, as the sunlight drowns in green
Living in a bubble out from pain
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If I were a nickel
Then I would like to be a dime
That could rise up to be a quarter
Of one fourth of a dollar
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Don't you hate.
That awkward silence
As if there's an odor
And you're bad bacon
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Under the feverish throbbing yellow sun
you stride the doleful sidewalks expertly
negotiating the long seigneurial streets
and neighbourhood capillaries mapping your route
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Red Roses give me allergies and milk chocolate diabetes
cheap ballads are like calories Empty as a Hallmark treaties

Cards have potential Paper cuts
...