It's Always Down Hill

Is a bird free because it can fly?
Or is it just trapped to circle the sky?
Climbing higher and higher to the limits of north
Before it descends on the air as the remnants of compost
Turning over its feathers to try and break the hold
Of gravities marriage which none can divorce
Accept through assistance of liquid nitrogen
It's sad when there are limits to what you find in comparison
For what gifts are wings without boundaries to cross?
To circle forever as an avian ouroboros
Perpetually attaining the height of stratospheres
King of the towering high-rises of steel
Lords of New York and emperors of Beijing
But never released from its impoverished searching
That it has to fly forever over to escape its free will
In the certainty of knowing it's always down hill

poem by Kevin Patrick
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Deck Chair Blues - For lonely Deck chairs everywhere

There is nothing more distressing
Observing a deck chair that is bored
Always waiting for an attendant
Who will make them comfortable

It's quite a lonesome vocation
Laying still near the indoor pool
Standing at ease in white plastic
Waiting for the hours Renewal

Sometimes it will get a family
Breaking up a day's holiday
On others it could be a lawyer
Looking for a rest from the quay

But mostly it sits there forlorn
Marooned in somber etiquette
Immersed by riddling currents
Of Tropical ghost light silhouettes

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Catatonic Optimist

Candy with breakfast makes everything brighter
Turns my feelings hygenic, and make orange juice lighter
Junk mail and traffic are no longer my hassles
When I take from a vial that makes me see castles

Catatonic Optimism
It hits faster then a missle
Heading out towards havanah
Where mushrooms form inside nirvana

Neighbors bad dealings, and boses cold grins
Disregard all the tension from a neutralizing syringe
I used sigh heavey and lay under green blankets
But now its treacle, and with hookah I can slack it

Catatonic Optimism
You'll collide with cartoon vission
Taking rides inside bubble's
Flying lightyears from any trouble

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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My Room

I feel the cancer of this room
Pull me into seven circles
And entwine some ferial mood
Until my souls mercurial

This heaven is, its own made prison
Rewarding restless coloured passion
Seeping thoughts with pleasure lesions
That extinguishes my pallid talents

My mansions poor of what I'm not
A privy respect for solitude
Where wisdom learned cannot be bought
Experience from forbidden fruit

If I should drift inside my storm
That harkens to a tempest rage
Then you are free to shut the door
And leave me to my red delight

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Its The 60's Baby

Let's go chase some rabbits
in our shiny boots of leather,
get whiplash from the merman
While catching Lucy in the Ether (in bad weather)

Its the 60's Baby
thats where I want to live

Emily won't let us play
in our interstellar overdrive
But if we pick up Lather and Prudence
We can see the white room with black curtains

It's always been a strange trip
When we are Californian Dreaming
Just tell the smoking caterpillar
Were chasing castles made of sand

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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A celebrity Died

A celebrity died on Saturday night
Though I reserve tears ducts for someone I care
Such as the millions who suffer in Sudanese Camps
and the victims that litter the streets of Duma
Fighting the valiant steps of dignity
That we in the west only take as born circumstance
As something that's inherent and forgotten in retrospect

Ill take my tears for someone I believe
And make an ocean for millions that are screaming for change
Like that Chinese artist who the police have kicked in
Because he dare question the state of Beijing
And now has his head in a tight tunicate
Suffering from lesions and prolonged aneurisms
This man I will cry for because he something you and I
Have forgotten when democracy has been forgotten in time
That those who don't have it, will parish for it

A celebrity died yesterday

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Ladybug Smile

Ladybug smiles, burgundy on my wall
Sauntering tapestry; gently and noble
On six tiny legs gallop a plump little parasol
Towards a beige canvas of tiled mould heavens

Ladybug raindrop, of glossy enamel
Decant out a jungle on vertigo deserts
A sunspot of scarlet hangs onto your navel
Quixotic nascent my serpentine empress

Ladybug softly, removes my last tempest
A portrait of Mary beams in your concave
Six dots colored black, make up the best harvest
With you up above there's is no need to now parlay

Ladybug quilts me, a guardian angel
Quietly painting my face with her sunshine
You soothe hookah visions you wanderlust royal
Regaining the axletree my antenna Duchess

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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In The Wonderful World PSYCHEDLIC Sundae

I swam besides a unicorn
Inside a bowl of cereal
The bowl was tipped
And then I fell
Into a mound of giant Play-doh
My travels took me on a road
Composed of nylon indigo
No tolles were sold
But the amethyst that was inside the sky
Chased me with surround sound lightning
In retaliation
I built an army of killer snowman
Made from the debris of crashed spaceships
Unfortunately a wormhole formed
Inside a garrulous golden spigot
It called the names of all the ships
For it was now their supper time
Then land whales flew from evergreens
And dolphins trailed in Cessna shrubs
I tried to call an alchemist

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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Monsters that I Fear

The monsters that I fear
Do not live beneath the bed
Trembling quietly on the floor
Hoping never to be heard
By the devils in the sky
Who toss and turn in tides

The monsters that I fear
Are not residents in a closet
Who peek between the fissures
Of the unwashed distilled light
Looking wearingly for movement
Around eiderdown sleeping dragons

The monsters that I fear
Have never ventured in darkness
Where souls create their compass
To guide themselves across the mountains
In peaks of pain and suffering

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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That Girl

Over there, across the street there's that Girl All smiling at me

She's tall and thin
Piqued elegant chin Cool oblong contours that entices me

Holds regal eyes of emerald seas Long lashes flicker Promiscuous glances

Breathings on impulse and stuck in traffic I'm now a slave to her strange magic

I look both ways to halt my movement but loves gravity has my entrapment
30 feet to 20 her legs are wiry Smooth athletic feminine mechanic

20 feet to 10 cheeks are powdered Sweet navy blue An urban serpent

Now 10 is 5 she's one foot high Rouged by smoothness Of party girl tennis Then her lips Begin to part An introduction To my conundrum

That girls a boy
and she likes me

poem by Kevin Patrick
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