"patterson" poems
Only a single star remains in the entire universe to support life to roughly twenty seven trillion passengers on the USS Star Eater. The Star Eater was governed by Captain Frederick Patterson. He has thirty seven years to find the solution to this problem with the help of an Artificial Intelligence known as Galactic Overseer Digitus otherwise known as the acronym G.O.D, given to it because of its mass intelligence and processing power.
But the machine could not find a solution to this problem, it spent many years ciphering a solution but it never found it. Because only a human knew the answer.
Is what was hoped, Captain Frederick never found a solution. Many years passed and the last star was almost dead. It was predicted to go Nova in a matter of days. Out of desperation, Captain Frederick order their core reactors to keep their AI, God, alive so he could perhaps find a solution. That was the final order he gave before suffocating and freezing to death.
The USS Star Eater laid dormant with no signs off life besides the presence of the God. Years passed and nothing happened, still dormant. Finally after one hundred and thirty two days, the God found a solution. God put it’s work together and said only four words as he created a new world,
“Let there be light!” And a world within their world was created. A world on the atomic size with enough energy to sustain it until their world could form a find a solution to the death of the world.
Only a single star remains in the entire universe to support life to roughly twenty seven trillion passengers on the USS Star Eater. The Star Eater was governed by Captain Frederick Patterson. He has thirty seven years to find the solution to this problem with the help of an Artificial Intelligence known as Galactic Overseer Digitus otherwise known as the acronym G.O.D, given to it because of its mass intelligence and processing power.
But the machine could not find a solution to this problem, it spent many years ciphering a solution but it never found it. Because only a human knew the answer.
Is what was hoped, Captain Frederick never found a solution. Many years passed and the last star was almost dead. It was predicted to go Nova in a matter of days. Out of desperation, Captain Frederick order their core reactors to keep their AI, God, alive so he could perhaps find a solution. That was the final order he gave before suffocating and freezing to death.
The USS Star Eater laid dormant with no signs off life besides the presence of the God. Years passed and nothing happened, still dormant. Finally after one hundred and thirty two days, the God found a solution. God put it’s work together and said only four words as he created a new world,
“Let there be light!” And a world within their world was created. A world on the atomic size with enough energy to sustain it until their world could form a find a solution to the death of the world.
Only a single star remains in the entire universe to support life to roughly twenty seven trillion passengers on the USS Star Eater. The Star Eater was governed by Captain Frederick Patterson. He has thirty seven years to find the solution to this problem with the help of an Artificial Intelligence known as Galactic Overseer Digitus otherwise known as the acronym G.O.D, given to it because of its mass intelligence and processing power.
But the machine could not find a solution to this problem, it spent many years ciphering a solution but it never found it. Because only a human knew the answer.
Is what was hoped, Captain Frederick never found a solution. Many years passed and the last star was almost dead. It was predicted to go Nova in a matter of days. Out of desperation, Captain Frederick order their core reactors to keep their AI, God, alive so he could perhaps find a solution. That was the final order he gave before suffocating and freezing to death.
The USS Star Eater laid dormant with no signs off life besides the presence of the God. Years passed and nothing happened, still dormant. Finally after one hundred and thirty two days, the God found a solution. God put it’s work together and said only four words as he created a new world,
“Let there be light!” And a world within their world was created. A world on the atomic size with enough energy to sustain it until their world could form a find a solution to the death of the world.
Only a single star remains in the entire universe to support life to roughly twenty seven trillion passengers on the USS Star Eater. The Star Eater was governed by Captain Frederick Patterson. He has thirty seven years to find the solution to this problem with the help of an Artificial Intelligence known as Galactic Overseer Digitus otherwise known as the acronym G.O.D, given to it because of its mass intelligence and processing power.
But the machine could not find a solution to this problem, it spent many years ciphering a solution but it never found it. Because only a human knew the answer.
Is what was hoped, Captain Frederick never found a solution. Many years passed and the last star was almost dead. It was predicted to go Nova in a matter of days. Out of desperation, Captain Frederick order their core reactors to keep their AI, God, alive so he could perhaps find a solution. That was the final order he gave before suffocating and freezing to death.
The USS Star Eater laid dormant with no signs off life besides the presence of the God. Years passed and nothing happened, still dormant. Finally after one hundred and thirty two days, the God found a solution. God put it’s work together and said only four words as he created a new world,
“Let there be light!” And a world within their world was created. A world on the atomic size with enough energy to sustain it until their world could form a find a solution to the death of the world.
Only a single star remains in the entire universe to support life to roughly twenty seven trillion passengers on the USS Star Eater. The Star Eater was governed by Captain Frederick Patterson. He has thirty seven years to find the solution to this problem with the help of an Artificial Intelligence known as Galactic Overseer Digitus otherwise known as the acronym G.O.D, given to it because of its mass intelligence and processing power.
But the machine could not find a solution to this problem, it spent many years ciphering a solution but it never found it. Because only a human knew the answer.
Is what was hoped, Captain Frederick never found a solution. Many years passed and the last star was almost dead. It was predicted to go Nova in a matter of days. Out of desperation, Captain Frederick order their core reactors to keep their AI, God, alive so he could perhaps find a solution. That was the final order he gave before suffocating and freezing to death.
The USS Star Eater laid dormant with no signs off life besides the presence of the God. Years passed and nothing happened, still dormant. Finally after one hundred and thirty two days, the God found a solution. God put it’s work together and said only four words as he created a new world,
“Let there be light!” And a world within their world was created. A world on the atomic size with enough energy to sustain it until their world could form a find a solution to the death of the world.
Only a single star remains in the entire universe to support life to roughly twenty seven trillion passengers on the USS Star Eater. The Star Eater was governed by Captain Frederick Patterson. He has thirty seven years to find the solution to this problem with the help of an Artificial Intelligence known as Galactic Overseer Digitus otherwise known as the acronym G.O.D, given to it because of its mass intelligence and processing power.
But the machine could not find a solution to this problem, it spent many years ciphering a solution but it never found it. Because only a human knew the answer.
Is what was hoped, Captain Frederick never found a solution. Many years passed and the last star was almost dead. It was predicted to go Nova in a matter of days. Out of desperation, Captain Frederick order their core reactors to keep their AI, God, alive so he could perhaps find a solution. That was the final order he gave before suffocating and freezing to death.
The USS Star Eater laid dormant with no signs off life besides the presence of the God. Years passed and nothing happened, still dormant. Finally after one hundred and thirty two days, the God found a solution. God put it’s work together and said only four words as he created a new world,
“Let there be light!” And a world within their world was created. A world on the atomic size with enough energy to sustain it until their world could form a find a solution to the death of the world. And they finally found the solution.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
My mother always told me
not to play with fire
and to avoid evil friends
who want to conspire
listen to my conscience
set my heart aflame
be obedient,
kind like Jesus
Him I acclaim,
for reflecting
the Lord's Image,
satan does flee
where God resides
in hell's where the demons
should be because where
Jesus' Kingdom is,
we are there ...
it's also at hand when
we lift hearts in prayer.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Semantic satiation
is when you repeat
a word or phrase
so much that it loses
all sense of meaning
Grim Milestone
sounds like the protagonist
of a paperback thriller series
by Patterson
or one of his ghosts
Grim Milestone
sounds like the title
of a Goosebumps book
about a killer street
Grim Milestone
sounds like a gloomy rock
on a lonely corner
whose only purpose in life
is to tell people
they’re on the wrong path.
Grim Milestone
Grim Milestone
Grim Milestone
Grim Milestone
Grim Milestone
Grim Milestone
I keep thinking
that maybe, if I say enough
my heart will ache less at the words
when we pass the next one
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 3:46 PM UTC
i became the jumpin' jack flash in november '77.
there was slush in new york city and the bums at the piers
still burned trash in metal barrels you could see from over on coney island even.
just like kerouac said.
in the daytime foolish kids picked weeds in central park
and called them flowers. they got laid by stringing charming words together as they gave them
to the thousand daughters of manhattan's old monied men,
the wall street hacks hanging from the teats of the
great & frenzied cash cow of capitalist interest. the milk
came slow that winter.
one week, early december when the slush gave way to furtive snowfalls
i took a bus to patterson, NJ
for a few days, drank a lot of awful coffee writing obscenities in my journal but speaking
them aloud in the restaurants and bars and so
was deemed just like everybody else in patterson, NJ.
drunk & high, helicopter tours, stuffed with bread and half-truths.
and when shortly my irish luck ran out i raced back to the big smoke
in a drop-top mercedes driven by a man whose thick accent i couldn't quite place.
whose only serious question was whether i knew anyone
who had good coke.
in the city it rained for three weeks straight and
david byrne, in some bowery apartment wrote a song called 'flood'
which was never released on any talking head's album
but lingered in his brain as a reminder of the three weeks
he spent cooped up, eating saltines and dancing to the rhythms of the thunder and rain outside.
totally alone with his mind & a bass guitar. tina weymouth, naturally, was furious.
the bass was the last thing she had left in a band she half-started. and david had stolen even that.
but that was tina weymouth, that was new york.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
Paramus? I bought a desk in Paramus. Don’t remember what it looked like.
There were ***** men outside the store. Or maybe they were Mexican?
They played a Skiffle beat as I haggled for that couch I was getting.
“When I’m dead and in my grave. No more good times will I crave.
When I die they’ll burry me deep. Way down on old Chelsea Street.”
Title was “Freight Train”.Think that one was by Nancy Whiskey You said Rutherford you’re from or Roebling?Ya, that Lonnie Donegan could sure make a song The song those Mic’s in front of the store I got the hutch at in Oradell was called “Face in the Rain”, went, “When I’m dead and in my grave. No more good times will I crave. When I die they’ll burry me deep. Way down on old Chelsea Street.” Wait what were we saying bout’ Paramus?
I mean Patterson.
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 8:17 AM UTC
181 to 200 of 3251 Poets
«891011»Viewsshow detailshide detailsSort by
Joelle Biele
To Katharine: At Fourteen Months
Veronica Patterson
Marry Me
Rick Campbell
Heart
Mary-Sherman Willis
The Laughter of Women
Sharmila Voorakkara
For the Tattooed Man
Max Mendelsohn
Ode to Marbles
Jonathan Holden
Car Showroom
David Tucker
The Dancer
Today’s News
Marianne Boruch (b. 1950)
It includes the butterfly and the rat, the ****
Some dreamily smoke cigarettes, some track
Trish Dugger
Spare Parts
Carrie Shipers
Medical History
Love Poem for Ted Neeley In Jesus Christ Superstar
Steven Huff
Safe
Lee McCarthy
Santa Paula
William Kloefkorn
"I stand alone at the foot "
Jackson Wheeler
How Good Fortune Surprises Us
Steven Orlen (1942–2010)
Three Teenage Girls: 1956
In the House of the Voice of Maria Callas
Steven Schneider
Chanukah Lights Tonight
Jessy Randall
Superhero Pregnant Woman
Anne Pierson Wiese (b. 1964)
Inscrutable Twist
Columbus Park
Regina DeSalva
Snip Your Hair
«891011»
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
It was the eve of a black obsidian night
full purple moon and stars shone bright
the howl of one lone wolf filled frigid air
damp cold mist needed down outerwear.
The screaming banchee's breath vapor
was noxious green befitting the caper
of scaring all children by his loud noise
of trick or treating little girls and boys.
A massive link ink wrought iron fence
surrounds eerie mansion in suspense
Frankinstein pushes thru spider webs
while a monster exercises quadriceps.
A ghost wanders in Cemetery's grave
and a pumpkin avoided an autoclave
the doors began to creak very loudly
a Raven and Owl sang quite proudly
Slick sleek ebony crows sit atop a roof
while another swoops, soars like a goof
do listen, you can hear their shrill echo
tombstone-songs by mummy's gecko
© Carmela M. Patterson
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Suddenly the world stood still
Erupting goose bumps chill
Piloted by those who terrorize
Twin Towers they'd jeapardize
Emotions of shock, disbelief
Mourning, moaning and grief
Bombed by aircraft killing all
Extraordinary sorrow ... pall
Resultant heroes came to call
Eleviating pain where they could
Lifting to safety as they should
Everyone who could be saved
Venom's evil could not be staved
Even would we wish it to be so
Numbers trapped perished tho'
They will be forgotten not ever ...
Honored in tribute, remembered forever.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
For Thou alone my heart sings
O Lord of Lords, King of Kings;
how can I love Thee as I ought,
Thy love I have so long sought.
When I contemplate Thy goodness to me,
I am in awe and enveloped in humility
that Thou O God from infinity
saw fit to create one like me.
My heart overflows for love of Thee
like swelling waters of the blue-green sea,
like the roaring waves splashing ashore;
it is Thee O my God whom I adore.
Permit that I may love Thee evermore.
When my earthly life comes to an end,
my sinful wounded soul wilt Thou mend?
May I one day behold Thy radiant Face
and reap the joy of inestimable grace?
How I pray this will be so, O Lord,
as to Thee alone all Praise I accord;
to be in Thy company one of these days
hearing choirs resound in Praise
to Thy Holiness and Grace
in that heavenly Place
and behold, I gaze
upon Thy most
beautiful
Face.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Monday morning and here they wait
proffering their passports - pleasure cards
submitted to scanning for our next date.
Returning regular regards.
Brave Ben Hayes benign war hero
veteran of bellicose books
stalker of the cinema's front row
lover of library ladies' looks.
Miss Patterson reads the romantics
that free her from kindly caring
and meddling medical antics
that prevent her feelings flaring.
Finally here comes Francis
who craves crime and thriller novels
demented detectives dangerous dodges
devoted while the narrative unravels.
Then there's me. I'm normal.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Maguire & Patterson
never came to terms
with it, died without
a testimony, they did.
Open casket, stiff as
pokers and bald as a
pair of boiled eggs,
they are!
The dampness got to
them it's endemic, but at
least they get their last wish
to be cremated, they will!
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
I remember the days of driving back from SAT prep. It was on the other side of the river, your side of the river. On those unholy sundays I was filled with a listless longing. I ambled at the gas station
or maybe that stoplight on Patterson Ave, seeing you for a second in the face of a stranger. At dark I rode with the windows down dedicating songs to the night, all in your name, the reverent word.
You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry
I avoided crossing the bridge back to where you were not. Where ribs of artificial light fell over me
from the lonesome headlights. Those songs fading out around the impenetrable night. And I, slinking down, felt that quell of hope ebb away as the idea of your face became more like a dream.
You were untested, you were perfect. Your hair stuck up and you wore a grey zip jacket.
I marked every glance in the school hallway, my blood struck by those dark roving eyes. I mentioned your name with those first sips of ***** on my lips. I still taste you there. In that blooming period, springtime, when I felt a beckoning towards a becoming of sorts. I saw myself the way I’d be in the impression of your mind, a man’s idea of me. I think I knew our souls were similar,
maybe just by the way you walked or closed your eyes sometimes. I found you in everything, I filled you into the empty spaces.
I loved you then, as a stranger.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
Freshly baked
Italian bread aroma
permeated Sunday mornings
in my old familiar neighborhood
we'd inhale the heavenly scent
drawing in deeply as we briskly
entered the shop to buy
a steaming hot loaf
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
When we met I knew you were kind
there was a gentleness you exuded
we were drawn, one to the other,
and it was good, comfortable
friendly conversation, blue eyed smiles
turned up lip grins, chuckles ...
shared dinners delightfully enjoyed, savored
medium rare, tasty faire feast, fondue
and you ... you whom I have come to know
lighthearted glow, I wonder ... does mine show?
Yours does in your every glance my way;
being cuddled by you feels like
a warm blanket ... I don't want
to experience numbing cold again
unsure if either of us wants to take it
up a notch or two from deep care
to true lasting love ... I must admit
the thought frightens me a little...
maybe it holds some trepidation
for you as well, therefore, perhaps ...
we should leave things as they are.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
All the way down here in Wiskokee
We live like it used to be
Nothing really changes much
Not since Mr Patterson’s arrival in 1863
I wouldn’t say we’re backward folk
We just are happy with our seat
Out in the wilds of Buckinghamshire
Where there’s all the fish you can eat
We don’t do big banquets
Nah, we don’t do fancy *****
We just do bread and water
No-one goes hungry at all
We don’t think much to going out
We don’t think much to the Internet
We just live right and true
And catch what we can in a net
We don’t think much to crime
To us it’s all really the same
We just go using a gun
To go hunting us some game
We don’t think much to hygiene
Why would we want it any other way?
When we’ve lived right for years
Up to our knees in mud and hay
Perhaps I’m misunderstanding
Why you’re kissing this guy you’ll never see
We just like the quiet where I live
And a simple life is enough for me!
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 8:06 AM UTC
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size ******
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's ****** marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
Aged arthritic gnarled yet standing stoically still
like a proud old man, Poplar provides passage
between bent legs ... an aroma of moist soil
permeates early morning's mist from eve's
rain drench ... stroll's sneaker **** splash
is no issue with appropriate apparel.
Pop ushers us onto the path, visibility dim, yet
disperses with each careful step ... sounds
of wing flap, caws, squirrel skitter, twig snaps
auburn fox, fleet of foot, flashes color in his run-by
windowless gray stone structure, doors open
bids a visit ... green garden gloves, trowel,
galvanized bucket, planting shelf indicate
recent care ... outdoor garden rose laden,
scents transcend the soul, red, yellow,
white, peach, pink hues heavenly
further on mists begin to lift as sun breaks
through dividing rain clouds ... azure sky
widens slowly to fully bright, beautiful
clear view enthralls, nature nurtures
the walk back is drier, crunch caked caper
I playfully kick it onto your sneakers
then run ... you let me run to Pop first
then you and I, hand in hand wave
goodbye to the old man.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
#6 | 31 Poems for August 2016
Here I stand, gradually disintegrating just so I can remain whole.
It’s interestingly sad to see how many people that are alive feel dead to me.
Your kind words are smooth like a fresh cup of latté but I need something stronger to battle this heartache.
Got nothing to read except the words I effortlessly wrote last night and a few James Patterson novels.
Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually.
The sincerity of my words is embedded in the movement of my metaphors, similes, adjectives and verbs.
I love waking up whole to the bonfire of a warm and loving soul.
But you will eventually grow tired of me, somehow they all do.
Everything is slowly falling apart, I just wish I had full control.
All I can do is sit and helplessly watch while the debris flies over me.
Here I stand, gradually disintegrating just so I can remain whole.
I love waking up whole to the bonfire of a warm and loving soul.
But I hope that you never grow tired of me unlike how everyone did.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
When I was small I loved You little
then my soul You began to whittle
thru growth my spirit oft felt brittle
I would repent ... pray for acquittal
each minute I found I loved You more
interceding was never a chore
upon my knees deep within my core
I hoped for Your celestial rapport
as I spiritually matured
my soul was safe from satan's detour
I stretched toward You who reassured
that forever with You I had procured
in my aging sage wisdom was sewn
soul was a temple for You alone
in loving You, life was a steppingstone
I took Your hand, now see Your Throne.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
The apartment in which we lived when I was small
in Los Angeles, California when I was not at all tall
our landlady, Mrs. Appleton, would oft come to call
she and mom were friends ... I could barely crawl.
The windows were opened on lovely sunshine days
soft breezes blew white curtains in billowing sways
with fragrances of honeysuckle and rose bouquets
wafting through rooms like perfume scented sprays.
We were not rolling in money and were quite poor
yet it was nothing that mom and I couldn't endure
she managed her meager finances well to ensure
we had all our needs met, her factory job secured.
The kitchen we had was substantial small, clean
a country sink, a stove and a roller wash machine
clothes were hung in our yard on ropes of green
we watched sunsets through the open door screen.
The apartment I remember is often on my mind
my mother's sacrifice seemed sublime at the time.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
In love's
electricity
hearts dance
to a horizontal
Rhumba
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
April Seventh, 1928
Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.
Luster searched the rough, amongst the grass, doing his own bidding.
"Here Caddie," a man shouted before he hit.
Images came back and I entered a fit.
Weeping and wailing I stood, a 33 year old male.
Soon to be reminded of being hooked on a nail.
My sister Caddy treated me well, though mother won't agree.
She thinks I'm pampered by the girl sneaking down a nearby tree.
Caddy ruined the family name.
Or so mother says, but I don't think she's to blame.
The girl lost her scent.
The Compson name is on the descent.
Caddy held me. She smelled like trees.
And not the kind that make one sneeze.
Maury was supposed to be my title.
My uncle's indiscretions made its worth idle.
So i was given something new to be called.
As Uncle Maury's and Mrs. Patterson's relationship stalled.
Miss Quentin picked up after her mother.
Looking absentmindedly for a wayward lover.
She sat next to a man with a red ascot on a swing after supper.
Luster wandered up and picked up something rubber.
...
I have no sense of how things occur.
My illness makes things easy to obscure.
The ticking of a broken watch beats on.
I, for ignoring such nonsense, have been deemed wrong.
Colliding events of different times.
Blurring together dateless lines.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
When my friend told me one-worded poems don't exist, I looked her in the eyes and said "Kevin."
Kevin loves to read
Kevin loves to read James Patterson
Kevin extremely studious
Kevin beautiful ocean eyes
Kevin gorgeous smile
Kevin didn't even need braces
Kevin dangerous
Kevin took my heart without warning
Kevin "you're crazy Melissa, I love it!"
Kevin mysterious
Kevin don't tell my parents
Kevin 20 isn't that much older!
Kevin sneaking out
Kevin 3am at the park
Kevin kissing like a movie
Kevin kissing
Kevin kissing
Kevin kissing a girl
Kevin a girl that isn't me
Kevin told me he loved me a week before
Kevin says it was a mistake
Kevin what kind of woman
Kevin would I be
Kevin to take you back
Kevin it's been hard
Kevin my breath
Kevin my light
Kevin gone
Kevin new girlfriend
Kevin she's the size of my pinky
Kevin she's the one you kissed huh
Kevin stop saying you miss me
Kevin stop contacting me
Kevin you don't still love me
Kevin you have a girlfriend
Kevin and it isn't me this time
Kevin she's actually your age
Kevin she's also not as fun as me
Kevin I need to move on
Kevin I'm not being the other girl to the other girl
Kevin once a cheater
Kevin always a cheater
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
You are a contradiction
You teach poetry and the art of English
You are such a good teacher
You scare the heck out of most people
You look so menacing
You talk so odd
You have so many rumors about how cruel you are
I don't think you're cruel
Just strict
At my age, that's what we need
But you are a good person
Kind to those who are the same to you
I think you are one of my favorite teachers ever
Thank you, Ms. Patterson
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
It all began
with injustice
when the innocence
of a child was stolen
and set you floating
like a butterfly
to sting
Liston
Patterson
Frazier
Foreman
and so many others
who failed
to knock you down
But when your wings
were clipped
you stood
like a man
and given the choice
between jail or war
you chose justice
and won your
greatest battle
by unanimous decision
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC