Why does my Girlfriend smell like my mother?
Its Six a clock now
when I get back Home
Sara is there
and she's all along (I think)
Comes out of the bathroom
with a cream colored robe
Smiles so brazenly
with pink porcelain cheeks
She's my scented enchantress,
my fairytale princess
The lady I adore,
with a million stars to sell her
But why ohhh why
Does she smell like my mother?
Met her at a café,
on an autumn Saturday
Stern and punctual
in a Cashmere prefix
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Fear is love
Hell is the face of the person you despise
And an expression of the race evolution crucified
Knowledge teaches us what morality calls shame
And who to persecute when we need to establish blame
Evil sleeps in the good, when they are tethered into the world
And awakens in the desperate when optimisms anorexic
All criminals are born in the same beds as your children
The only innocent are those bathed inside of Gods detention
Sleep is the peace that waken minds never find
Down half forgotten streams with no rudder to rewind
Being lost is experience learned from coldness of yearning
You�re stuck on the ocean with Red sky�s for sailors mooring
Fear is love
And love is god
Fear your god who loves your tears
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Fat Pt 2 - How things fall apart before they begin
Its night of long knives,
when your pretties step cousin
Line ups, short manners,
and extra cost for your pockets
You got kilos of skin
but you’re thin for good friends
Who will starve you as the joker
in the order of the pact
And make a break on the run
when they stab you in the back
Chimeras with pretty faces
never waste a laugh line
When you’re sitting on plane
for an excuse they can deride
Charge you extra for the cost
of who you are as being
Under faux pass rules
that strip away your dignity
And hang you out to dry
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Names on War Memorials
Billy got a gun,
When he turned 18
Did two tours in Iraq
And got a purple heart for free
When he arrived home
The Mayor gave him a key
And said 'how proud' he was
'For serving God and country'
But Billy was an egg
With a brain now slightly fried
Watching marching bands
And the Batons on the lines
Searching for the danger
In the Cadillac landmines
The sparkles made him dread
All the fireworks of July
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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One Eyed Luna
One eyed Luna's hanging
from the rafters of nights eaves
While caught in an elliptic
Orbiting gaunt autumn trees
With bark as bare as kindling
Cracking through the rounder' beam
Of the silver maiden rapture
Imprisoned in the timber reeds
So when the wind blows the court
It leaves a thousand lighting bees
Parceling down to kiss the earth
And leave the mind at peace
For I've never seen a damsel so bright
When sweet one eyed Luna is over my sight
Tonight
In 28 day she variate's
Through magnitude and perception
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Die Hard Valley Girls
The comet came and almost everybody died
Leaving cannibals and angry red skies
Two valley girls survived, hiding behind steal
Now their kicking ass wearing Prada high heals
They have no school but they have no dates
There's only one guy and he might be gay
Fortunately for them the malls are unlocked
And Bloomingdales has super killer mark offs
Explosions fly
Zombies die,
the girls score pastime
Cause nothing's going to stop
Die hard Valley Girls
Now they dance to the swing of Cindi Lauper
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Good Canadian Weather
A glimmer of spring recedes,
as winter rebounds towards furor
Sending off the cheerful malarkey
To be draped with an abstemious simmer
The rooftops bearing with tarmac
Become throttled with frosty garments
With bars made of ice, and walls made of snow
My sights claustrophobic and glacially narrow
And in the blink of an eye you'll hear my voice gripe
Muttering nonsensical adjectives of indolent tripe
But to be perfectly frank, this is good Canadian weather
The prelude of sallow lawns
Is disrupted by the Siberian sawn
Waylaying afterglows for lost summers
For rosy cheeks purchased from arctic dowers
I've traded my Hikers for Mukluks
Annoyed by the downgrade of gear
To shovel hours away, to keep contents at bay
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Filthy
Filthy was my mother's womb
From which the creature barrowed through
Filthy is the father's gift
A dysentery vessel malignantly thrift
Filthy are the orbs that burn
Resituates of evil from a convex urn
Filthy is the cognitions blight
In wrecked collections of atrophied sight
Filthy be the tongue that wage
Indiscriminate duplicitous rage
Filthy composes the embryo man
Who never realized which way he begins
Disgust is self attraction, pontificating the irrelevant
And I am blind to the future which was due last week
While collecting old debt of childhood alimony
Making friends with the silhouettes on television
Because a dog ate my marbles and flew to the moon
While I fit as a statue of constant uncertainty,
Cradling the rags that build my daughter of gravity
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Oil War! - Alison Redfern vs Chrissie Clarkson
Chrissie Clarkson complained for the shares of the pie
Enbridge had patented what Miss Redfern had sealed
On a pledge of allegiance for a pipeline next year
Carrying the cream of the crud of reprehensible slime
There was a bipartisan difference and state of disproval
Poor Alison was chagrined with her fellow premier
Who refused to concede for more provincial revenue
When jurisdiction of the proceeds transversed through Vancouver
They met on a schooner for a provincial congregation
But neither was willing to come close and deliver
Preferring deference till three months to October
Debating rhetorical trademarks, instead ecological spilling
"It's our, it's ours" Pouted greedy nose Alison
She put her hands on her hips and said on a dare
"I'm an Albertan and we don't have to share
Oils our commodity, so you can suck it Mrs Clarkson"
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Fat: Pt 1 - Mass Media Rise Of The New Health Reich
Flicking through the channels and browsing through the net
I see the infomercial fascist, relieving junk diets for escapement
To the deprecated masses the flock for high-speed solutions.
Exalting to the virtues of tummy tucks and surgeons knives
And favoring the religion of synthetic Mount Olympians
We always chagrined these late night highwaymen
The backpedal wizards with their marketed magic potions
Dispelling pseudo wisdom in cosmetic metamorphosis
To faithful sluggish narcissists, who worship being beach peaches
With tan lines and twister riffs that credit cards for laurel rewards
But the parasitic message, were the symptom of our beliefs
The epicenter of this disaster, was in the cultural mirage
Of vacant superficial dreams, in laminated beauty queens
And replicas of golden Abs, from six pack princes airbrushed in
Then the world began to spin, from obsessions with the outer skin
Reward the blossomed roses with the lower lipid count
Smiles and affection, and leave the rotund out to drought
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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