Excuse Me

Travelling through life,
Amongst the riffraff.
Dressing crab,
Stroking the ride.
Searching for kindred,
A friend, the soul.
Under the cut vein,
Once bled, dry.
Dry still but alive,
Hot and pulsed red.
Shooting the breeze,
Brushing nature’s scent,
Opening doors wide.
Reflections caught,
Undoing inside,
To the end.
To the end,
I cried.

This is Me (Us)

That life exists, is in the mind,
More as a collective conscience.
My mind, is not mine alone.
Those owning theirs are in denial,
They think they do but they don’t.
In life we are one another.
Minds can be hewed,
Trained, sharpened, focused.
Minds are borrowed,
Shared and spread about.
To be loved, taunted, hated,
Rebooted until perfect.
Great minds are remembered
But as with the rest, ended,
In equality discarded at death,
Yet their memory continues
Eventually reconstituted.
Churned into life’s cauldron,
Drip fed to the up and coming,
Reborn and recycled.
All life is a contributor
And a receiver of the mind.
The ultimate force is not one life
But the sum of all, as one
Through an eternity conceived by us
But in truth, without time.
Now is the only reality, concentrated,
Crafted from before and after.
Our Universe is one.
Every universe is one.
We are one.
I am one.


Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Chris Pat Kirk all rights reserved

#poem
Unblocking

When the last thing you want to do is write.
When that sinking feeling has sunken in
And everything adds up to nothing.
When your heart skips a beat at night,
Where high and low water tides unite.
When the pit of your stomach steals your throat.
When you have nought, with no one to tell
And cloudless skies come over dull.
When the sea stops rolling
And the apple simply does not fall.
When water dries and the parched quench,
The Sun and Moon turn about.
When limits are reached but not yet met.
When nothing appears worthy of pen and ink.
When boredom and episodes of melancholy link
And apathy confounds the energetic.
Let creative juices flow, write all you can,
Even rubbish, it’s written for all time,
This is how the history of us on Earth began.


Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Chris Pat Kirk all rights reserved

#poem
Earth Weeps

Yes I can talk of rain,
The pitter-patter of dripping,
Flushed public drains,
Sultry souls looking.

Nature’s liquor sustain.
Bold strokes of lightening,
Acid burns and stain,
People humming.

Hard or soft on panes,
Puddles rise on filling,
Reflections bright again
And buses splashing.

Droughts in the plain,
Too much else flooding,
Spilling in the main,
On demand its calling.

Ice melts, who to blame?
Seas rise to our warming,
Downfalls, clouds reign,
To end humans being.

Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Chris Pat Kirk all rights reserved

#poem

Fifty Years

The bullet that killed Kennedy
Our flat Earth and religion.
The chicken or egg mystery,
Aliens amongst us a given.
Landing on the moon, don’t be silly,
We all watched it on television.