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K. Patrick Schaffer Poem
Old ideas, more like character defects--
no way to pay bills or get paychecks.
Mind-aching explosion,
put up the road blocks,
ticking like a time bomb or a grandfather clock.
Time's up, make a decision,
something you can live with--
space just to breathe and enough room to pivot.
Exquisite provisions--
invaded by religion.
Predicaments that can change one's whole way of livin'.
Conditions,
they can make you
or absolutely break you.
Be wise with the lifestyle and morals that you take to.
Make haste not to
delay the truth inside the prelude
and maybe one day you
will finally have a breakthrough.
Copyright © K. Patrick Schaffer | Year Posted 2014
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K. Patrick Schaffer Poem
Dusk finally breaks
so we assert ourselves with ecstasy
and weed.
We claim omnipotence in pills and
crystals, whose uneven facets
reflect our fractured souls
shone through the darks of our
eyes.
Whose catalyst propels our
transmission down highways of
perfect pavement and engraves
narcotic hieroglyphs,
gashing chasms eventually.
The bittersweet glitter in matrix
with potentiations of piperazine
and lactose.
We toast to the eve with ale
and liquor--
the sapor of chemical licorice before
an overdue nicotine stick.
It tapers from tongue and
touches stomach and makes
me feel pure again.
Whose rollercoaster ride excites lust
and leaves me caressing
myself hours long.
My innards are robotic and clang
with metallic echoes--
I am a machine of total creation
whose gears are greased and
grooved marvelously.
Driven by emphasis of metamorphic
eroticism transitioning between
infinite colors--
they drape above;
it is a nebula and brushes my
cheeks.
And smiled on endless lips
ear to ear
and didn't mind a retorted,
confused frown because she didn't
understand what I was on.
She should be on this, too.
She should smile with me.
She should hear this music that
is coming from nowhere--
the weightless melodies of jazz
and blues
and the screwdriver bits of
electro-pop and trance.
They kept me until morning,
just as the flooding turned to
drought--
the barren Mississippi,
the barren Mississippi!--
it won't rain for weeks
and my chasm is complete.
Copyright © K. Patrick Schaffer | Year Posted 2014
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K. Patrick Schaffer Poem
Heart's throbbing for discothèque
airwaves,
pulsating electronica polyphonics--
rolling;
waterless waves splash
everyone present.
Motionless reminiscence of Ibiza
and surrealism, triple-distilled,
aesthetic kinetics--
and men and women sweating from the vibes.
Copyright © K. Patrick Schaffer | Year Posted 2014
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K. Patrick Schaffer Poem
Repetition is the father of learning,
an endless corridor of
narrow stairs;
anger blossoms self-discovery.
Tickling ivories and black keys,
tickles the soul into musical
paramount--
retrograded toward amnesia,
feels no more;
striking chords on a harp
in an angelic paradise.
Copyright © K. Patrick Schaffer | Year Posted 2014
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K. Patrick Schaffer Poem
Realization dawns;
it's all a game.
He is king--
playing it safe,
he moves one step at a time.
He walks alone.
Gambit.
Copyright © K. Patrick Schaffer | Year Posted 2014
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