Bring Out Your Dead Poem by Kevin Patrick

It's the call to arms for the educated tigers
The miscreant saints in the high-rise Babylon's
Crusading for pleasure in cobblestone discotheque
Down their Rhoads and Damascus of Friday light sapphire
Credo alone - swept into the ravished torrents of desire
Drowned in ravenous feelings for junky blue dealings
For this is the call of summers bee songs
saying bring out your dead bring out your dead

These perilous streets were never made for the old
But the lost boys and girls caught in the dreams of fools
Stealing the stars to mince their Sequin and Fedoras
Through their I phone icon of ephemeral idolatry
Show the office disciples fueled in paparazzi bibles
Wanting fame in the name of the virtue of shame
Bleeding hearts always empty to the pastimes of avarice
Which you hear in the strobes screaming bring out your dead
Bring out your dead

And through your Rimbaud's eye I see De Sades soul
Pocketed the petals maimed delicate in Gold
Alleviated in the whirlwind of smoke and lasers
Where wolves for Armani collecting girls for Ferraris
Marionette sweetheart's playing string for your money
To beguile sweet childe who has the key to her world
But know a Venus's smile is a man's greatest disaster
And a snake that has charm is a girl's poisoned chalice
For words are thief's tools, said the Poet to the Scoundrel
While their etherized to youth who bring out their dead

We were promiscuous urchins seeking flypaper romance
And now we lay vacant in our spent forever's
Our embarrassed sweat and skin that glowers
Where love is in the embers of the remains of an ashtray
Though maybe if we hold close Fridays night will not decay
Don't let the blinds uncover our impulsive Valentine
For when we see each other it will be a pale memento
That our passions tide has turned it brow and is nothing but an echo
Lodged inside the nicotine of jaundice hangover halos
Where the dead will linger from our hammer

And here we are again down the roads of sainthoods exile
Another night to chase our dreams upon the mounts of avarice
Another dance with harlequin's surfeit of faith and subsistence
You live today expecting that world is yours tonight
But all you'll find is crowded rooms
with no one left who knows what's right
And you'll hear the bell of destiny collecting debts in Arrows spent
Where every scratch of laughter paints another grave experiment
In the paradise of hubris which whispers through the disco ball
The secrets through laser beams and strobes on ebony courts
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead