Party Hardy - Its our Hobby
Make Everyday feel like its Saturday night
On blue days, when frowns, are wearing you tight
When you’re dead on the weight of your jobs paper strain
Put the effort to preplan the late night gravy train
On the electrified nights go out for the hustle
Find a neon Olympus were Greco gods get muscled
As volunteers to the parlor of indulgent fulfillments
And Dr. of Liquor sedate your feet to easy strolling
Be a high flying ace and catch a girl (maybe two)
Play the swab cavalier and a dance floor tycoon
Make a storm to her system like a sudden typhoon
It’s the time you have the dime, don't be the buffon
Even if your toes are compiled out of stone
Ignite the nitro to your femur and let the cadence go
Manouver like tiger who can foreclose without appeal
For the true language of love is our weak Achilles heal
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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5 Little Cherubs in a Sideshow Menagerie
Five little Cherubs in a sideshow menagerie
All prime in Gingham dresses with pock dots in colored blouses
Fetching public reminiscences with fondness in their cages
Don't they look quaint locked in frowns to passing strangers?
Five little cherubs in a sideshow Menagerie
Boxed up in a manor cordoned off with one way mirrors
So when they play each day their taught to see outsiders
As collecting acts of tribute for spectator pedophiles
Five little cherubs in a sideshow Menagerie
You can purchase happiness worth a $1.25
A quarter in each Matryoshka without a slice of humble pie
Softly bleed the little roses with their patent leather smiles
Five little cherubs in a Sideshow Menagerie
Coming from North Bay in the house of cards off black Tuesday
They were prized butterflies and neonatal marked commodities
They never had parents but they had industrialist doctors
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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A Man and His Goat
In this gallant democracy
Where endeavours are proven free
A man's love surpasses boundaries
Including interspecies sprees
For underneath a country sun
Lived poor Tommy Michael John
Who was raised in isolation
Taught the trade of agriculture
Quite intelligent but awkward
With a tenant for introversion
He never had a single friend
Unless a tail was it conclusion
There was Elmer the potty pig
Plus Stuart the klutzy rooster
With Matilda the bovine cow
And Pamela the Foxy Goat
And yes she was a foxy gal
With a coat of auburn locks
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Whiskey Pete
Whiskey Pete you're quite the treat
Immobilizing patroness to third degree burns
Military issue- first rounds for insurgents
Civilians get the tab, for hospital mistresses
Children's skin blister doppelgangers syphilis
Their flesh hangs mauve with a viscous mucous
No next semester, when doctors can't cure it
Hemoglobin's sun stroke with your gin and tonic
Whiskey Pete your ambrosia reeks
Profiting mercy that is extra for beating
During first rounds under combat bordellos
Opening doors made a killing in Fallujah
New customer victims, malt a poisoned chalice
Wailing mothers in Hijabs, beg grief for virgins
Towards a sky that is hollow to pleas on the inside
This smell of success is white man's crime
Whiskey Pete know one has you beat
When it comes to hangovers for organ failures
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Because It's Fun
Let's dropp a dose of acid into a bowl of punch
And tell the pampered prep kids its special orange crush
We'll liaison our excitement watching the novice trip and blush
Down the Willie Wonka tunnel riddle psychedelic rush
Then I'll drive a Silver Lexus down the incline of a road
Speeding on adrenalin while viscera paints the hood
To discipline pedestrians when they act like nasty toads
When they smell the putrid sinews tattooed around the wheels
Then I'll tell the border guards there's illegal's in the trunk
Laughing as they convict me for being full of bunk
They'll never validate a sincere claimant to deduct
Since all my accusations are insolvent grains of salt
Maybe I'll start a revolution with exaggerated convictions
Then bailout responsibility for indefinite decisions
Watching on the sidelines of my Cancerous Ambitions
Destroy the social seams of this melting pots foundations
Simply because it's fun
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Today (Is Yesterday)
Here these words breath of my epitaph
Speak louder than all my deaf sentences.
This discourse is my final truth
Which to your ears translates this ruse
I never failed a test, I meant to past
But never learned respect of circumstance
Confess; humilities been my false pride
The world was made good for evils kind
Maybe it’s too late
I think it’s been a mistake
For the sun seems not to rise
When Today is yesterday
Listen to this before I lose what I mean:
The sky is always Brighter
When the clouds have disappeared
Air is always sweeter
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Retail Dogs - (Belittling Bosses who deserve to get their teeth knocked out)
My boss came down from Ottawa
And said to me in patent awe
Calculated by her reprove
Insuring my full approval
That I am -
'An amazing employee, you really, really are,
And because of your fine contribution,
As a tenant to our establishment
We've decided to reward you
By increasing your working hours
And as a special conciliation
(Much to our jubilation)
We're going to do this just for free
So you won't have to worry
About an increase in your wages
I hope this makes you happy
As it does for all of us
Because we've thought about this
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Letter to America
Dear America:
It must be nice to be insulated
Against this evolving world
Too avoid the armed conflicts
Enabling you haggard dogmatic
Recipes of disaster
While stealing the bread and butter
That infuses cardboard religions
With commerce morality
Of truncated values
From Saturday morning cartoons
Of old Tom and Jerry
That everything is better
When cats should eat the mice
And it must be nice
To live behind the ignorant walls
Of blue skies and green fields
From a television screen
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Paulie wants to be Polly
Nature gave him shoes that he never felt quite fit
Wrong soles inside a soul which was never much equipped
To prance around in boxers when he wanted ladies briefs
And roll around in cardigans while stuck in denim sleaves
He compromised himself to the rules of family life
Captaining a little league, while head of the P.T.A
Devoted to his wife who was a catholic socialite
With an honor role son, and a daughter in ballet
No matter what his summit, it was always hard to breath
Sheltered in an armor that was densely claustrophobic
Riding down a road that was always growing narrow
Until one day he decided to get the full adjustment
Paulie wants Polly, and that is her prerogative belief
For who are we to stop the change of butterflies?
And abort the metamorphose of once rights
When we could live each day fulfilled and always free
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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A Girls Best Friend
It was just a novelty
That she took out for a test
But now it's become a hobby
a magnanimous old pest
Now she meditates addictions
With an ornament lothario
Trading one note Casanovas
For south equator Cyrono's
And she's slipping any minute
For diverting games of sole
Causing intoxicating earthquakes
In the land of rock and roll
Where the cat's jaws always slander
Interpretations of letter 'O'
Down the crevice in the jungle
Where wild submarines echo
Her girlfriends are complaining
That it just makes her look single
But she scales the walls with retorts
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poem by Kevin Patrick
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