Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Disposable soul
Thrown down it's hole
Like something I stole
Once empty now full
Inhabiting skull
False securities lulled
Fingernails lovingly pulled
Holding onto this cold
Doing only what's told
Scold the mold for growing
Or the bones for showing
Men for towing their sorrows
Dreaming a hundred dead tomorrows
Screaming sparrows and cardinals
Today I lost all my marbles
Patrick Kennon Sep 2024
Rough rusted railroad steel in my palm

Dogs are following me in the woods

It's a long way to the river yet

Running out of battery

Dark tracks rattling hard
Patrick Kennon Feb 2024
I found you in the gravel,
the wet muddy gravel

How far did you travel,
in sunlight or in shadow

River winding high,
receding when it's dry

Reflecting clouded skies,
perceived through panfish eyes

Here chipped secrets lie,
downstream our dreams do fly

All we can do is try
scattered like flints awry
Patrick Kennon Oct 2023
Wise in worldly ways?
I'd rather be a fool
Who dies honest anyways
Patrick Kennon Sep 2023
A handful of heat, coffee tastes sweet in the bottom of the mug
Splayed out, dissected human bug, body chopped and tugged
Catalogue my suffering, patch me together with hemp twine
Ignoring every sign and warning, falling is soaring interrupted
A life defined as loveless, a body bled out bloodless
This mud is sticking to my brain again, no way to win
Don't you hate it when it don't work out
Hanging around until you can't leave
Cried all my tears and can't grieve
Nothing left to even believe
Patrick Kennon Aug 2023
Hello old friend
I want nothing to do with you
But here I am searching you out

Hello old friend
I thought you left so long ago,
But here you are, crying

It must be a dream
Brain letting off stream
Sanity flowing down stream

Southbound or bust
By rubber or rust
Getting nowhere on trust

I’ll crawl if I have to, not even fuss
Turned mean as a rattlesnake,
Heart choked out on dust
Patrick Kennon Mar 2023
Why do I keep coming to these places?
Attempting to siphon something into this void
Vicarious joy, vicarious hope, still dream of the rope
Can't cope with this anymore, the wound is forever sore
I'm getting sick of trying, lying to myself a bit more
**** your good health, choke on your worthless wealth
Burn down another Newport, the tenth or twelfth
Next page