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 May 2017 Patrick
nivek
you cannot hoard that which is free
free for all
the shared reality
 May 2017 Patrick
ryn
Foolhardy
 May 2017 Patrick
ryn
Endearing is the quest
to sing of the morning sun,
when you know only the words to the song
of night.

Absurd is the notion
that you could saunter across the lake...
Just to touch the moon when it is only a mere reflection.

Foolhardy is the assumption,
that your words could matter enough
to outweigh the consensus of most.
The rose was
not looking for the morning:
on its branch, almost immortal,
it looked for something other.

The rose was
not looking for wisdom, or for shadow:
the edge of flesh and dreaming,
it looked for something other.

The rose was
not looking for the rose, was
unmoving in the heavens:
it looked for something other.
I hate my poetry
I think I hate my poetry,
there's a simple reason why, you see,
most of my words, I know are wrong,
feelings extinguished that live on in song,
of girls I've forgotten, and girls who don't care
so there's no point to poetry...is there?
 May 2017 Patrick
Atma
Speaking to I
 May 2017 Patrick
Atma
Sometimes I sit and write,
Poems about you and I,
About me and love, and love and sorrow
But in the mirror of my heart,
I realized they are all about me and I.
 May 2017 Patrick
nivek
all moves sedate
a dreamland

all is swallowed
by Summer

witness to beauty
all on a journey

slow steps
around the Sun

we dance
to her songs.
 May 2017 Patrick
Sam
The sparrow has turned into a hawk.
I will not apologize for learning how to fly,
but I will apologize for falling in the garden,
trampling over the orchids as I took flight.
How is the sparrow supposed to fly,
knowing she tore the orchids to shreds?
 May 2017 Patrick
nivek
coffee revives a pallet
made for taste

Summer comes through
the open window

she nestles on my skin
and I lick her from my lips

swallow her whole
greedy for more.
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