Kevin Patrick Poems

Down an orphaned bypass, trailing with ash
Near a slide of asphalt off the next ramp
Memories of gridlock are stained in the tarmac
As Tire tracks trail like, old Viking runes
...

What if there was a world
That was in full reverse
Where flowers pollinated bees
And aliens were the abductees
...

At work he craves for more shopping
And getting high in Mall hopping
He fills his world with Leisure
Until he throws up in seizures
...

Every day I latch my rage
Behind a bulletproof grin
I've played the role of being nice
When my mind is in a tailspin
...

Time lays marooned on the edge of oblivion
Marked in the still-life of gravity's wake
No stars, nor lights just a graveyard of night
a nebulous ocean, that's vast and opaque
...

The difference between religion
and the comforts of beer and wine
is that the latter has more substance
in helping commune with the divine
...

Green chapels swell under simmering noon
beaches, oaks and balms, blush in verdant plumes
gleaming glossy gowns of mint foliage
Serenely soothing doubts with its rustic dosage
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You wrote the book
on how to be a crook
It caught a line of suckers
Now it's an instant bestseller
...

She built a world of fantasy
on turrets and stone balconies
with ribbons in her golden hair
she danced in rainbows without care
...

Their just foul rags
for feral bullets to play tag
and spray hot hopscotching volleys
all over the insides of blind patriotic marks
...