Kevin Patrick Poems

To get to the moon, you walk across the room
Burn thrusters slowly, so your momentum is saved
And if you want to get to Mars,
Nimbly plan your next course
...

The mailbox is brimming
with letters
flooding the floor
with junk mail and bills
...

There's a piper playing on the moon
wobbling through a senseless tune
His minds a mists of nebulous ditties
A shattered wreck of wandering gypsies
...

Dreams are the sweet realms
between life and death
and that final voyage
when we meet our last breath
...

A Siege of silence stirred, beneath the kitchens verge
As Morning traced through windows, rays of burning gold
On a wall a cat clock grinned, sweating nervous ticks
Pounding fatal drumbeats as dry tension gently explodes
...

Kindness is a currency
That is always more worthy
Then all the weight of gold
In all the world combined
...

Winters winds chime ancestral wails
and glide auretic melodies
That swail the earth in whitewash gales
And cling the foam of memories
...

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Never is there love,
Unless there is an inner faith
For faith admits our pain
...

A Baker sowed a muffin bush
it sprang sweet scents tothe Hindu Kush
it had choclate chips
with cherry red tips
...

Whatever our choice, whether we choose step out
Into this world full of cannibal actors
Hungrily competing for lines and a lead role
In a play called life that's just to tedious to watch
...