It started with nights
It ended in years
You brought me up
I made you better
We spent so much time
Conscious within each other
Sharing our bodies
Except for one tiny place in your heart
You kept that for you
Just in case
Plan B
And that part of you
Became that tool
That broke me time and again
But hey
You're really good with that sledgehammer

The sun rose & set 6 times
Before collapse put to rest
               This mess that is me
  Dreams plead in vein for my
Eyes to open cleansed & sane
                           Sweet screams
  Ghosts whisper Ill prophecies
Just beside and behind me
    My pale outer shell drifts
  Deeper into the darkness
                          That enslaves me
  A soul yearns to flee when it finds
Home has long since been traded
                             For a hole
  I feel your arm around me
And hear your prayers and loving word
  But I need a cure for apathy
or a break from this theater of the absurd
                             Come, be blessed
  Well,If He exists He doesn't talk to this fiend
God, has from me, long ago abscessed
                                Make way
   The only ghosts that haunt me
Are the shadows that lead me
                                          Astray.

The sky’s nose is pressed to the window of a loner’s heart
Knowing something dances in the bottom
And it stands in front of him

Nothing in life shows what a loner really feels
More than that fountain of ink
Whispering from her pen

Still the sky wonders if there is anything really there
Or if a loner’s heart is merely full
Of emptiness dancing bare

You can see the sky’s ear pressed ever so closely  
Against the window of a loner’s heart
Listening to the pulsing beat

Knowing something wondrous dances in the bottom
It is timeless yet, still he wonders
If it only dances in the ink

As so many of you have had difficulty purchasing “We Walked in His Garden” here at HP, I have decided to post the book in its entirety at Poetfreak (www.poetfreak.com). I do alas have one final request to ask of you all. As this project was initially intended to benefit The Matthew Talbot Hostel, a homeless shelter that was very dear to Paddy’s heart, I would ask that you please consider making a small donation to this worthy cause. The amount is entirely up to you.

Checks in any currency may be made out to the Matthew Talbot Hostel and mailed to:

The Matthew Talbot Hostel
22 Matthew Talbot Place,
Woolloomooloo NSW 2011
Australia

If you managed to purchase the book here, I assure you that 100% of what you paid will soon be on its way to them.

Well, with this I must say goodbye for a while. I have some personal issues to attend that simply cannot wait any longer. You have all been wonderful throughout and have shown that although we may have very different ways of looking at the world, deep down, we are a family that truly cares about one another. When you think about it, there can be no greater honor to the memory of Paddy Martin than that.

Patrick

On a sunrise as in a thought.
We are lost for choices become hollow as
the smile becomes a mask.

Shackles cut into flesh trikles down the wrist
traces of the remains of what never shall be.
In a morbid sense i respect the empty hours
and cherish this isolation like mistress
that wait's for my return.

Flesh for canvas painting's in tone's no longer
a direction slowley we drift.
Taken from the scene another will always replace.

As a wheel has no end the start is a mystery
none care to solve.
Why mask reason when insanity we share?

Whom will erase my page?
Only to recreate my line.
Im headed for that slow decline.

In delusion I exist as in darkness
I fade.
A scroll none can see.
A vision seldom shared.

To gasp for air is to strangle apon
life the empty words crash to collect dust
in my cluttred life's floor.

I'm attempting to stay relevant,
when everything else just dies.

I'm trying to stay true,
while everyone around me spews lies.

It's funny in this world,
that changes on a dime.

That I'm the only constant,
that which stands the test of time.