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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
The world burns apart,
like paper over candle.
The only breaking point
that this planet couldn't handle.
Something turns to nothing
and that nothing's what remains,
that nothing turns to something
and that something turns to days.
Days are made of moments.
Moments; made of you,
moments make up hours
and together we make two.
We co-create a world
and pretend we're here forever,
let's break apart the pieces
come on, let's tear it down together!
This world was made to murder us
this world was made of fire,
we were born to join a homicide
and born pre-expired.
Time didn't want us,
we pretend we're here forever,
let's break apart the pieces
come on, let's tear it down together!
Our minds are vast and lonely
instant pleasure keeps us lifted,
it's no wonder every human
has to leave this world addicted.
God loves junkies more then pastors
We leave first, He knows us better.
lets break apart the pieces
come on, let's tear it down together!
You're simple and distracting,
I say "I love you" out of habit.
I pawned your love to get us high
And you still humanized my addict.
I’ll leave behind my needle
And you can wear that dress forever.
Our purpose in this world is simple;
let's tear it down,
you and I.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2013
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
Hey, I'm dead
they took my life
and didn't give it back.
Instead,
they put me in a grave
and laughed.
Miss me?
They wanted off with my head
their first bullet missed me
but hey, I'm still dead.
I'll haunt dreams
and take their peace
because they fear the deceased,
I'll become an enemy
not easily seen.
Hey, I'm dead
I live with 200 corpses
I'd take you to meet them
but I'm stuck with rigor mortis.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2013
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
As my weary eyes give in
I become entranced.
A day completed now
and so I give it back a glance.
Every chance I'm given,
I break it all apart
I break it all apart
I'll break this all apart.
I can be your monster or your hero
it depends upon my heart.
If I was all that smart
I would break myself apart.
We've lived so gawky from the start
and handled stones in this glass cage,
these last days are fast paced
please hurry up and wait.
Don't believe a word I tell you;
I'm a liar, just kidding.
I love dichotomies and irony
and riddles in the city.
Hey, I once escaped a mind trap
and regretted it...
because a mind trap only benefits
if you simply stay embedded in it.
So instead of salvation,
I live in a glass prison, waiting
for the walls to crack like windows
and have what I'm hiding from
come and take me.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2013
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
We rise from the lowest places,
create homes in the most homely spaces.
Divide food in shortage cases,
but we ensure each person here
thrives and will make it.
Some call it dysfunction
but I call it home.
We give them all that we earn,
because they are our own.
Rumors surface; we're poor,
how can we provide?
If we had to give them our own meals
we'd do it to survive.
They will never starve,
never suffer,
never be un-loved.
We will be their safety net
if they fall,
a soft catching glove.
Always put them first.
That's the staple of our core,
keep their little heads fed
and happy,
and we ask for no more.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2016
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
Dad let his beard grow
I asked,
"what for?"
he said the horns
show his man.
I asked,
no more.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2012
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
There! a newsstand!
Inside, where that man stands.
Nobody stops for magazines
he's owing for your glance.
He loves the print on paper,
and a craving for it's smell.
A broken soul dealt hands
of cards misfortuned you can tell.
Well,
years passed.
His stand? the same.
That old lady stopped to browse,
but at home she left her change.
Seemingly sad,
So she buttoned up her coat
And whistled toward the street
for that ride to fly her home.
“Just a minute ma'am.”
He smiled, showing teeth.
“My morning traveled customer
take that tabloid there, it's free.
I’ve had this stand for years
and they never saw the sign”
-Corner Newsstand: My gift! You don’t have to pay a dime-
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2012
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
Graffiti Graveyard is/was a place in Duluth where street artists would spray paint their murals. It was in an interesting location, underneath a highway. The homeless of duluth would sleep here, an upwards of 20 plus tents could be seen at night. It was an eyesore (that was also out of sight) for some Duluthians and they demanded the homeless sleep somewhere else. None of these Duluthians have even seen graffiti graveyard or know it's location.
Underneath a bridge
a community lives.
Homeless, hopeless,
society can't forgive.
What we see; unkempt, unstable community.
What they see; togetherness, and gain of unity.
Bodies rest in battered tents
the Highway Manor's up for rent
the city folk will all lament
over where their tax is spent.
"They live under our highway?
That's down right crazy!
Evict all of them,
I don't care if they hate me."
Says the tax-paying, upstanding lady
she only loves her neighbor
if they drive a Mercedes.
"Graffiti Graveyard is a sin!"
No, it's a place where art lives
and the exiled enjoy the presence of home
that the art gives.
Tags left their mark
underneath and unseen.
The city demands an exodus,
and wipes their hands clean.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2013
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
Take my name
deface it
make it taboo
break every letter in half
my last name too.
grab my middle name
laugh at it
throw it down stream!
make the alphabet forget
how it arranged to spell me.
my name is not me!
it does not explain my person
it labels me for labeling
and defines me by the surface.
a more simple version
would be
knowing each other by emotions.
but we left our shores
and started wars
lost compassion in the ocean.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2012
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
Im gonna help the sad faces that have faces ,
Redeem each part played in these bad places
And if I had a safety net, I'd be glad to be gracious.
You don't have to say it,
The world is overplayed
And every broken heart seems hopeless everyday.
A corpse amongst the living;
Death is here to stay.
You can say
I tell a story,
Of what happens when we break.
Overtakes our hearts and soul
We reach for what is safe.
Underneath our skin,
We're vulnerable within.
Underneath this place
And What it takes to stay awake.
Underneath we shake;
Of what it takes to stay in place.
Underneath creates,
What we're afraid to face.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2016
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Patrick Farley Iv Poem
My behavior is erratic,
my brain is...
floating above me.
Meditate.
Breath.
Life throws s--- at you
and it lingers after you clean it up.
We had our moments together.
What solves your brain prison syndrome?
It's like thinking about thinking
circling the drain and sinking.
"The synchronicities
also occur to help show them
that although they live different lives,
they are also part of the same path."
Reply with friction,
situations manipulated,
soul twins, shiftin'
a matched rhythm to fix it.
Just a fraction of our hell.
We know the outcome too well.
I'm blending in your fan section
you're up in your residence.
A toast!
We're selfish,
we're like two wax candles that melted.
.
Copyright © Patrick Farley Iv | Year Posted 2017
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