Kevin Patrick Poems

L-ost in a thought of wanderlust

A-nd wondering if Ive reached the crust
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Screaming is free you should try it some time
I've been a consultant since the long age of five

Schooled in Diogenes I'm not so artful to be a cynic
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Revolution is dead,
buried next door to God
I Got his son's autograph,
at the souvenir shop
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It’s a bug that won’t die, when you swat it with paper
Emerging unscathed from a cache of repellants
It neither hisses nor buzzes but it dashingly tapers
Zipping with remoteness to your aggregated annoyance
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Worms eat the earth that they were born in
Birds eat the worms they pry on the ground
Cats eat the birds that wander in the grass
Wolfs eat the cats that trek through the trees
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You are everything I want in neat little package of unquestionable desire…, and everything I am compelled to be repelled for - Love, Sex, Lust Greed, the avarices of the guilty and the human.

On one hand I want to feel your body pulsating vibrantly against me as if you are a completion of unity that I have always wanted to know as the forbidden fruit and synergy of two united beings in mind… spirit… and most of all…… flesh
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Mornings are my adversary
their obtrusively obnoxious, opportunist
they creep their rays, uninvited
and unannounced
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Foreclosed signs, dot neighborhood lawns
and boarded houses mark suburban graveyards
along the littered streets of bric-à-brac
lay corpses of the Jones's seared up and charred
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Sitting on a grassy knoll
Watching a mans head explode
Blood rains from an open wound sky
my hearts steel, and I feel fine.
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Underneath the blossom tree
velvet moonlight softly gleams
in crowns of fragrant majesty
through robes of raspberry beams
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