ALL POEMS OF PATRICK McFARLAND

Poetry Series
Patrick McFarland
- poems -
2
Patrick McFarland (1965)
Two events changed my life and influenced me more than anything else in
my 45 years on the planet:
1) The first time I heard the song 'Imagine'.
2) When I heard that the genius who penned 'Imagine'
had been murdered.
The first opened my eyes and heart
The second shattered my dreams
3
A Good Man Died Today
A good man died today
Buildings did not close
Flags were not flown at
half mast
School children
attended classes
and life went on
as it did yesterday
and will again
tomorrow.
But he was my friend
and people should know
A good man died today
Patrick McFarland
4
A Psalm for Humanity
The Lord was my shepherd;
But not anymore.
He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures with the
weak minded beasts of the
field.
He dooms my soul to eternal
slavery.
He leadeth me beside waters
of condemnation.
Yea though I walk through
the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for it was thou
who brought me here.
Thy rod and thy staff wait eagerly
to punish my heresy.
Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies:
Enemies I did not have before
joining thy flock.
Goodness and mercy should be
gifts unbidden.
I have seen the hallowed gates
of thine house oh Lord yet prefer
the stables.
I find there is more humanity there…
Patrick McFarland
5
A Silly Little Poem About Peace
One for all and all for one
We’re together everyone
We’re together one and all
Though our voice is rather small
Even though our voice is small
We’re together one and all
Getting louder everyday
Growing strong in every way
Growing strong and getting loud
Standing tall and standing proud
Pretty soon they’ll here our cry
From every corner of the sky
Crying out for liberty
Stop the killing
Let them be
Can you hear me Sarah P
If they die then they ain’t free
If you kill them one and all
Then you've only built a wall
Built a wall and locked the door
What the Hell are we killing for?
Patrick McFarland
6
A Very Scary Halloween
The kids are
getting ready
to go out seeking
treats
With ghoulish
masks adorned
with blood they
hunt for sticky
sweets
With flashlight at
the ready
and basket firm
in hand
They go about
from door to door
in groups across
the land
But what is this?
No Halloween?
They’re calling it
demonic
The preacher says
it's quite a plague
up there with the
bubonic
But perhaps it’s
not a total loss
as angels we may
dress
Or costumed as
a holy saint
with sinners
for to bless
And candy
for the taking
No need to trick
or treat
No need to dress
as goblins and
walk upon the
street
No need for
haunted houses
No need for
scary gloom
No need to
be kept waiting
7
for the rising
of the moon
Oh somewhere
kids are laughing
And somewhere
children play
And somewhere
hearts are happy
on this very special
day
And somewhere
kids are smiling
with no reason
to wear frowns
But there's no
joy around here
since the Baptists
came to town
Patrick McFarland
8
Abyss
We’ve pissed
into the abyss
of life leaving
chaos and strife
in our wake
for the sake
of the almighty
buck.
We’ve f****d
societies dogs;
Rabid bitches
howling madly
through Autumn’s
aborted twilight,
their plight abandoned
by the clergy and
the evening news.
Patrick McFarland
9
All Wrong
Brothers and sisters
you’ve got it all wrong
You are humming the
chorus but don’t know
the song
Put down your Bibles
and get off your knees
Get out in the sunlight
and into the trees
The poor and the hungry
are waiting for you
The sick and the homeless
and downtrodden too.
For this is the message
you all fail to see
'What you do unto them
You do unto Me'.
Patrick McFarland
10
Apocalyptic Blues
Within the glade
comes the parade
of the yellow lizards
with the wizard in blue
leading the way
to the place where
faces are never shown
and rotting flesh clings
to bones brittle and old
and exceptionally cold.
Along the way I see
the decay and in haste
I quicken my pace
turning my face away
as the wizards yellow lizards
look on in obedient disgrace.
It’s all a blur as I awaken
with the mistaken illusion
of the nights terrible
passing.
Was it just a dream?
Isn’t everything?
Patrick McFarland
11
Arrival
Waves snap along
the moonlit shore
while a T-Rex baseline
carries ’The Mambo Sun’
thru my soul and out across
the dream crested Atlantic.
Right here
Right now
I am at peace…
Nirvana is made up
of such moments
Patrick McFarland
12
Avarita
Somewhere between
no place special and
nowhere fast the last
of mankind’s honor
lies bleeding and
alone.
The receding tide
of ignorance carries
a crimson warning
that I fear will be
unheeded by future
generations of neocons
bowing before greed’s
unholy altar.
Arise and cast away
your golden calf
for in death the
breath of eternity
pays no heed to
souls blinded by
prosperity's lies
but in eyes alive
with compassion,
longing for a better
world
Patrick McFarland
13
Axe Mundi
The fire burning.
The liar turning
away from realities
decomposing core
while the doors
of perception
remain barred to
all but a privileged
few.
Truth lies not within
abandoned pews or
the Jew’s unread book
but in eyes willing to
look beyond the concept
of time and space to the
place where nothingness
and being coexist without
apprehension
Patrick McFarland
14
Barren
Encroaching madness
approaches from unexpected
corners of oblivion’s indifferent
layer.
Lost souls wander aimlessly
through tomorrow’s aborted
twilight ignorant of realities
cataclysmic inclination.
This is our truth, our way,
our direction.
Darwin’s natural selection
dooms us all to Valhalla’s
halls crowded with calamities
mediocre sons and tyranny’s
unadorned daughters.
The water of truth must find
its own level while the mud of
deception remains firm beneath
our jaded feet
Patrick McFarland
15
Beyond
Beyond what is known
The ultimate creator
The ultimate self
Beyond the concept of time
The timeless spirit is found
Patrick McFarland
16
Blue
It makes no sense
Living and dyeing
and crying out to a
God who pays no heed
to our needs or desires
but conspires with the
darkness for the fate
of our soul.
(JOB 1: 8-12)
Patrick McFarland
17
Calico Zombie
Calico Zombies wander
the neon gardens of the
American night grasping
aimlessly for connections
their erections ignored by
the whores in the doorways
along 5th avenue.
“We are unique”.
“We are calico”.
The mantra of a hundred
million lemmings fading in
the moonlight as they slowly
drown beneath the waves of
their own exclusive ignorance.
Patrick McFarland
18
Cloudburst
This really isn't heaven
and it ain’t exactly hell
A fleeting glimpse of
freedom at the bottom
of a well.
They say they’ve got
the answers in their
jaded Holy book
And they tell me I’ll find
Jesus if I stop and take
a look.
Existence is a strange thing
and death is stranger still
And they say there’s no
religion in those tiny little
pills.
But what the hell do they know
in their ivory covered halls
When the devil’s on the
rampage and he’s got you
by the balls.
And the pain is never ending
in that cold and empty pew
God has left the building
he’s got better things to do.
Patrick McFarland
19
Dark Wind
If perdition indeed holds a
place for faces such as mine
whose lines are the essence
of a depressing viewpoint,
then I openly welcome my fate.
Lucifer, set my plate somewhere
between Dickinson and Twain
so I may learn from their sardonic
wit just what it means to be human
and what it means to love and to feel
and to reel against it all and to fall and
to rise again over and over till the end
of time in the sublime ecstasy of the
soul's droll brilliance.
Patrick McFarland
20
Death (The First Five Minutes)
The movie ends and
the credits roll and the
droll lights blind our eyes
to the reality of
existence.
The distance between
now and eternity is 300
unadorned seconds.
Bliss or imagination,
can anyone really know
for sure where the pure
spirit lies in the moments
after death when breath
and heart and thought
cease forever, falling
into the clever trappings
of eternal silence?
Even as we ultimately
expire, will we know?
Our minds true essence
is lost without regard
to the realm of fantastic
illusion and the delusional
ranting going on around
us.
Where does the truth lie?
Patrick McFarland
21
Delusions
Lost between the squalid
scene of sadness, blood
and death the dream
surrounds.
Waking, shaking in the
night forsaken absence
of sunlight abounds.
Silence lingers in the
dark a sudden flash
electric spark
enlightens.
In the shade the lemonade
trickles down the colonnade
sublime.
Knowing that it isn’t
real the morning fog
cannot conceal delusion.
Walking, talking, life
and death the air we
breath is only an
illusion.
Patrick McFarland
22
Dementia
It’s twenty odd years
since irrational fears
drove away all your
hopes and desires
Now all that remains
is a shell and a frame
of a man that I once
so admired
The light in your eyes
was as bright as the sky
on a cold sunny day
in December
Now the fire is gone
and the light passes on
leaving only the glow
of the embers.
Patrick McFarland
23
Dharma Sunrise
Paradise within.
Sin vanishes with
the light.
The night has passed.
At last salvation and
reconciliation with
God.
Eternity in a drop
of water.
Forever in a grain of
sand.
Patrick McFarland
24
Dimensions
Beyond the frozen
sea of time
There is a world that’s
too sublime
Where angels tread on
broken glass and no
one knows the proper
path.
Ask a friend to show
the way and his reply
he’ll surely say is:
“I do not know today.
Maybe tomorrow”.
Patrick McFarland
25
Distorted View (Inspired by Syd Barrett)
They killed the other
half of me with pills
and Psychotherapy
and now I think
it's plain to see
I'm not the man
I used to be.
They took away
the other guy
and left me here
to wonder why
to wonder why
I'm half a man
and how the hell
to start again.
Perhaps if pills
I throw away
the other half
will come to play
than fully whole
I'll finally be
to love and laugh
and play with me.
Patrick McFarland
26
Ditties from Hell
One
I took my shot at the
pot of redemption
And only missed
by a mile
Now Heaven may
have my contemption
And Perdition may
welcome my smile
Two
Cups and saucers
filled with gold
but not a cent
may we behold
for we are not
among the few
selected by the
ancient Jew
Three
God the father
and his boy
appear to find
the greatest joy
deciding who
will sing or fry
in pits of Hell
or Heaven’s sky
Four
Me thinks I’d rather
burn in Hell for truth
be told I sing not well
Besides in Heaven’s
realm I hear they’ve
put a ban on wine and
beer
Five
Friday night
I just got paid
Saturday,
27
I just got laid
Sunday morning
now I’m saved
to start it all
again
Six
I do not regret
not going to mass
preferring instead
to sit home on my
ass
Home on my ass
Instead of the pew
Enjoying the game
With a six pack or
two
Seven
Scribbled notes
on yellow pages
offer up my
rants and rages
to the gods
both big
and small
Who really
don't exist
at all
Patrick McFarland
28
Divine Scat
All sin begins
with erection
leading to sex,
birth and life on
earth, but somehow
(if we believe the pew) ,
all but a single Jew
are born in sin while
forgiveness is reserved
for the pick of the herd
that trample the slothful
runts beneath balls and
sweaty c*nts on their way
up the holy ladder to
salvation's elusive shore
where matter and spirit
become one in the son's
immaculate vision of the
united division of imperfect
man.
Meanwhile, we lesser beasts
are cursed with damnation
eternal both on earth and the
infernal regions until the season
of the Jew's expected return.
Burn it all...
It's bulls*it.
Patrick McFarland
29
Ecce Otium
The way to bliss is a line
chiseled through the abyss
of time leaving sublime
characters to stumble
through the twilight of
autumn’s unadorned
years.
Fear and apprehension
reek havoc on time’s
sublime reclamations
Geseme‘s tranquil breeze
failed to ease the suffering
of the Christ while his
cross is behind the loss
of humanities ability to
coexist.
Perhaps atonement will
Come with the sunrise.
Patrick McFarland
30
Ecclesiastical Shadows
A bitter poison spiked
with the blood of a
thousand sages ebbs
in a chalice at the foot
of the alter.
Soft ripples lead fools
the way to dusty death.
Liquid solitude cascades
over the parishioners
causing many to believe
in the myth of inner
peace.
By morning all will grasp
reality for a transitory
instance, cursing their
miserable lives, while
praying in earnest
for lost redemption.
By nightfall, they will
Return to the temple.
Patrick McFarland
31
Eden
Standing at the gates
of Eden hurling
obscenities at an
antique
god.
'I do not fear perdition's
eternal fire.
I will keep my freedom!
You may keep your'
chains! '
Patrick McFarland
32
Eighteenth Haiku
Far in the distance
The sound of one hand clapping
Echoes through my soul
Patrick McFarland
33
Eighth Haiku
Shadow on the moon
Ancient gods prepare for war
The twilight has come
Patrick McFarland
34
Eleventh Haiku
Bull frogs in the swamp
Thousands croaking for a mate
Hopping to get laid
Patrick McFarland
35
Eruditio
Lying in the shadow
of a harvest moon
Soon sleep will be
upon me and I will
meander between
dream and nightmare
until mighty Helios rises
in the eastern sky to drag
me from a lover’s passionate
embrace or calamities indifferent
layer.
Dream and nightmare
They do not vanish
with the waking morn
All of life is but a
delusional vision
of the psyche
A mirage conjured from
the essence of our souls
true understanding of
reality.
Few outside of the
temple or asylum
understand this.
Patrick McFarland
36
Escape
How I'd love
to disappear
into a world
of crimson cheer
To lose myself
in such a place
and never see
a desperate face
Never another
desperate face.
Patrick McFarland
37
Eternal Ignorance
My years spent
kneeling before
Holy words
amounted to naught
but absurd notions
of divinity.
Wasted time
lost to eternal
ignorance.
Better I had spent
the time on the sublime
ramblings of Nietzsche
or Thomas rather than
the insane promise of
divinity’s celestial return
Wake up children.
The night has passed
and at last we are free
to hurl ignorance back
into the void from which
it came.
The game is on
It's called life
Go and play
Patrick McFarland
38
Eventus
When the world seems too heavy
And my back is breaking from the
load
I look off in the distance but see no
lights upon the road
Well it all just kind of ended before
I knew it had begun
I'm tired of this darkness and the
shadows on the sun
Life is never easy and death is always
hard
I look up at the dealer as he passes me
a card
I put it in my pocket and I walk out in
the yard
The moonlight looks so jaded and it pays
me no regard
Salvation in a bottle
Liberation in a glass
The God who made the flowers put the
serpent in the grass
I guess the way it happens is the way
it's meant to be
Heaven is for certain…
If you never disagree.
Patrick McFarland
39
Extrinsecus
Winds of unknowing
blowing through my
tattered memory
a clamorous howl
wailing in desperation
for understanding and
forgiveness
The well of compassion
dry and void of mercy
while realities fragile tether
long since severed is
left unattended to blow
madly in the tempest
of a meandering
insanity
Patrick McFarland
40
Fatal Flaw
We're watching
and we’re waiting
and we’re loving
and we’re hating
as the whore of
greed is slowly
passing by.
Every thief and
every banker lifts
a frosty mug to
thank her while
the widow wipes
the tear beneath
her eye.
And the politician
smiles as the cash
is stacked in piles
while the price of
crude is soaring
to the sky.
And the folks who
rule the planet take
the whole damn
thing for granite
plucking fiddles
while the children
slowly die
Patrick McFarland
41
Father Xmas
Every Ho down in Hoville
liked f*cking a lot
But the Priest who lived
just north of Hoville did
not
The Priest hated f*cking’
(at least with the women)
He said “I prefer little
boys for my sinning”.
Some said he was born
without any balls
Some said that his drawers
were two sizes too small
But whatever the reason
However it goes
He stood there
on Christmas eve
hating the Hos.
“When the clocks all strike midnight
I know just what they’ll do
They will take off their clothes
and commence a group screw
Then they’ll screw and they’ll scr*w
till their scr*wers are sore.
Then they’ll all take a break
and start scr*wing some more'.
And the more the Priest thought
of the Hos and their scr*wing
the more the priest thought
'they must stop what they're doing'
“I could call the police
drag their asses to jail'
But the Hos have good lawyers
and soon would make bail
'Then they’d all wander home
and resume the Ho f*cking
They’d resume the Ho hand jobs
They’d resume the Ho s*cking”
Then he threw up his hands
and said “oh what the Hell!
If I fancied p*ssy
I’d be screwing as well”
So he left all the Hos
to their sexual ploys
and he climbed into bed
with two alter boys.
Patrick McFarland
42
Fifteenth Haiku
Muslims, Christians, Jews,
The Children of Abraham
Consumed by their hate
Patrick McFarland
43
Fifth Haiku
Is anything real?
Perhaps all is illusion
Who is the dreamer?
Patrick McFarland
44
First Haiku
A song I have never heard
is stuck in my head
A bird sings a familiar tune
Patrick McFarland
45
Forest Serenity
The forest lingers in the
twilight of god’s eternal
oblivion.
Proud limbs bend silently
in the cradle of Autumn’s
loving embrace.
Man’s dominion over the
Yew and the Ash is no
more.
The mighty Oak no longer
fears the reaper’s foul blade.
Man has unleashed the sword
of ignorance upon his own
kind.
Patrick McFarland
46
Fourteenth Haiku
Liberty by force
Democracy at gun point
Who made up these rules?
Patrick McFarland
47
Fourth Haiku
Are wishing wells real?
If not I wasted a dime
Still cheaper than alms
Patrick McFarland
48
Gnosis
Concretized delusions.
An infusion of paranoia fuels
the situation making cohabitation
impossible for the sordid beggars
living on the streets of suburbia.
Beat poets had it right when they
praised the night’s neon attraction
propelling the soul towards ever
greater action and distraction.
Listen!
It’s time to awaken!
The mistaken illusion was
a delusion of the muse
(Or cheap booze left too long
for human consumption) .
Whatever the reason the season
has passed.
Kerouac and Cassady no longer
haunt the jazz clubs of middle
America.
It’s not enough to feel without
the benefit of thought and for all
the pain it has wrought, knowledge
is the only thing left that can save
us.
Patrick McFarland
49
God
Inside the pearly gates
of doom beside an ancient
throne
There lie the Holy robes
of God atop a stack of
bone
And from the sky the echoes
recall His final words:
“I am the God of everything…”
And nothing else is heard.
Patrick McFarland
50
Gone
Embrace the silence,
face the violence;
Transcend mediocrities
terrestrial shore.
The boredom of life is
in the cinemas.
Empty flickering lights
that fight comprehension’s
meandering bliss.
Patrick McFarland
51
Half Moon Twilight
Nightfall approaches
with anticipation for
the salvation of the
tortured soul whose
droll existence owes
everything to a
forgotten moment
of unadorned passion.
Above the pain of survival
is the hope that tonight the
fight will at last be lost and
death will carry him across
the divide and into oblivion's
indifferent lair.
Too righteous to burn
in perdition’s flame and too
stubborn to kneel before Heaven’s
jaded throne.
Eternity no longer holds his interest.
He seeks only the silence of the
void.
Patrick McFarland
52
Harlem 1955
Walking down Fifth Avenue
on a Sunday afternoon. Shuffling
to the rhythm of the ghetto’s
tortured brilliance.
African Mozarts fill the air with
their street corner symphonies.
Silence ensues as a slow rain begins
to fall. The lively street soon becomes
deserted. A shadow of an ancient
memory.
Turning left on Fifty Second.
A couple huddling in a doorway.
They manage a smile as the lingering
rain continues unabated.
Patrick McFarland
53
Holy Haiku
Jesus Christ it’s hot
Only three beats in His name
Great for this haiku
Patrick McFarland
54
Holy Morality
The Saints have
crucified great
Dionysus on the
cross of holy
morality.
Forgive them
father for they
know not what
they have done.
Father?
Father?
Patrick McFarland
55
Holy Sunday
Rest assured
the herd will
follow the absurd
proclamations’
of the institution's
philosophical solution
to the daily grind
that binds us all
to this stalled
adventure we
have mistaken
for life.
Patrick McFarland
56
Irrelevance
Wrapping my mind
around the blind
ambition of youth.
The truth lies
between the two
extremes of melancholy
and desperation.
Sensation follows
the hollow echo of
mankind's first glimpse
into eternities cataclysmic
abyss.
Patrick McFarland
57
Jameson, Absolute, Nietzsche, and the Cat
Moon on the horizon.
Soft breeze rattles the brambles out by the old barn.
The cat enters, looks about and begins to speak.
“Fears take flight after years of drinking the tears away while the days responsibilities
are laughable in the light of satori's brilliant realization. Silly, silly man, thinking reality
something to achieve, a destination to discover, a journey to undertake. Listen and I
will tell you what little I have learned burning away my short time on this horizon of
understanding. All that is transitory is a metaphor for the eternal and all that is eternal
is a metaphor for the self. The self is the collective consciousness we all share and
what we share is our experience of being. Being is nothing but an illusion created in the
mind of God while God is simply a metaphor for eternity. Now pour me some kibble for
I know many things, but do not possess opposable thumbs”.
I woke with a start, cursing the spinning room and swearing never to mix Jameson and
Absolute again.
The cat finished her kibble and crapped in the litter box.
Patrick McFarland
58
Jesus Cottontail
(Isaiah 45: 7) Mark Twain once said that it would be just as easy for God to create
healthy children as it would to create unhealthy ones, yet he chooses to create some
with terrible diseases. That idea was in my mind as I wrote this poem.
(Also, that damn Peter Cotton Tail song was stuck in my head and I couldn't get rid of
it) .
Here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Judgment, famine,
pestilence and war
He says the end
is coming soon
I wish he’d sing
a different tune
Something that
we haven’t heard
before
He’s got Aids for Tommy
Parkinson’s for Sister Sue
There’s an STD for Mommy
(Daddy hasn’t got a clue)
Here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Judgment, famine,
pestilence and war
Maybe if you’re
extra good
And try to do
the things you
should
He won’t come
around here
anymore
You’ll wake up one morning
and you’ll know he isn’t there
And you will see the smiles
on the children everywhere
Oh here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
59
of gloom and doom
Hippity, hoppity
what a f*cking day!
Patrick McFarland
60
Licking Toads
Complete madness
settles upon the masses
leaving asses exposed to
the unadulterated humping
of society’s collective wit.
Christianity’s sh*t will hit
the fan before man awakens
and dispenses with the mistaken
notion of this delusional existence.
The metaphorical distance between
life and death is but the breadth of
a hair in the universal cosmic order
we call reality.
Patrick McFarland
61
Lost at Sea
The sun shines
on Portsmouth
but not where
I am
It’s nothing but
wishing on stars
Two thousand five
hundred light years
from home
How did I wander so far?
The east wind is blowing
The anchor is weighed
I’m turning my back to
the gale
A flask topped with spirits
A prayer on my lips
and a promising draft
in my sail
And maybe I’ll make it
or maybe I won’t
The future is too hard
to see
So much has happened
and so much is lost
and I don't know who
I’m supposed to be
Patrick McFarland
62
Malediction
Half moon twilight, shadows fade
Specters rise within the glade
Advancing in a soft parade
Along the hills and colonnade
Ghostly phantoms long forgotten
Wailing souls from Hell begotten
Crying out for Satan’s pity
Forsaken by the Holy see
Where to go and what direction
Darwin’s natural selection
Never saw this sad collection
Death’s pathetic imagery
Floating down among the people
bowed beneath a different steeple
'Perhaps these foreign gods will
save us from eternal misery'
But god’s are all created equal
from the start and thru the sequel
By the same enamored people
living in this desperate land
And so my friend there’s no salvation
from this fear and desperation
The freedom of annihilation
again denied by Heaven’s hand.
Patrick McFarland
63
Malicious Obsession
When the evening fades to shadow
and the moon is sailing high
I want to stay beside her
but I have to say goodbye
She smiles and says 'I love you'
and I know it’s just a lie
But the moonlight is bewitching
and there’s a twinkle in her eye
I kiss her very softly
as she lays down on the bed
I try to weigh my options
but the wines gone to my head
The room begins revolving
around all the things she said
But concentrations fading
and reasoning is dead
I wake up when it’s over
and wish it hadn’t been
I curse the empty bottle
and swear it off again
I fumble for my wrist watch
and it’s a quarter after ten
And I hate myself for wanting her
While I’m wanting her again.
Patrick McFarland
64
Melancholy Desolation
When pain approaches
from shadow and encroaches
upon realities unsuspecting
shore than all knowledge
is dead.
A stranger’s perfume.
The furious discharge
of forsaken orgasmic
freedom.
Withdrawal.
An awkward substitute
for love’s cataclysmic
bliss.
Patrick McFarland
65
Mortalitas
When the sun dissolves
on the final day and the
blossoms of springtime
have faded away
and nothing is left
but shadow and shade
and the sound of your breath
and the snake in the glade
Will you regret the things
that you’ve done or the things
that you squandered or wasted
or won?
Will you see the error
of your ways and pray
to God for redemption?
No
Neither will I.
Patrick McFarland
66
Needless Redemption
No sin
No beginning
No end
No sending it out to
laundry like tailored
sheets to be returned
with fashionable pleats
in all the right places
Sad faces
Too many damn sad faces
Forgiveness is an elusive
bitch these days, her gray
shadow an unrealized
contrast to our delusional
perceptions.
Patrick McFarland
67
Nineteenth Haiku
God of Abraham
Free us from September's chains
Before it's too late
Patrick McFarland
68
Ninth Haiku
Nature's lovely song
Humanity’s ardent noise
How can birds compete?
Patrick McFarland
69
Not Yet the Morning Comes
I wrote this over 20 years ago for a girl I was dating. As today is our 23 wedding
anniversary, I figured I would finally post it. Happy anniversary honey...
Not yet the morning comes.
It’s not time for our embrace
to end.
My soul for another moment
to hold you in my arms.
My soul to feel you next to me
a moment longer.
Soon light will enter our world.
The minutes even now are quickly
passing
It’s almost time my love.
It’s almost time to leave your side.
We have but a few lingering seconds
to be together and then I must go.
But not yet the morning comes
Patrick McFarland
70
Oblivion
I see the end of the world
in the blink of her eye
And all the colors you
can think of just appeared
in the sky
And a guy who looks an
awful lot like Jesus walks
by
But nobody cares
All the people in the city
are to busy to feel
Running 90 MPH
just like rats on a wheel
Stuck in cages made of
concrete, iron, plastic
and steel
But nobody cares
The delusion of the moment
has them preoccupied
Whether Brittney or Nicole
will be along for the ride
And the sky begins to darken
and there's nowhere to hide
But nobody cares
Then out of nowhere
comes a shattering boom
A cloud of crimson colored ash
has passed in front of the moon
Six billion people disappearing
in the darkening gloom
And nobody cares...
Patrick McFarland
71
Obsideo
Veiled whispers startle my
polluted soul and from the
shadows she appears.
Her hollow words pierce
the wind like soaring birds
and whither tomorrow’s
fragrant bloom. The room spins.
Sins unfold upon cold satin sheets.
Death's ritual accomplished she
departs leaving my heart an
empty shell swelling with despair.
The unholy loss of yesterday's
bliss and tomorrows fragrant
innocence.
Patrick McFarland
72
Omega Sunset (An ode to Yeats)
Congealing reality within
the empty void.
The flame of coexistence
extinguished.
The falcon long gone.
We’re left to gaze at
an empty, brooding sky.
Ah Billy, you understood
so long ago.
You tried to tell us but we were
too absorbed in our own delusions
to understand.
Your’ “rough beast” is at the gates
of the holy city and there
is nowhere left to hide.
Patrick McFarland
73
Paroxetine Nightmares
Demons on the perimeter stalking serenity’s
unsuspecting bliss.
Is this all I have?
Once mighty defenses now offer little protection
against ancient clawing phantoms.
Shadows lurking in the forest of imagination
waiting for the opportunity to strike.
Alas my recourse.
Tiny painted disks that beat back my imaginary
assailants while extinguishing the tattered threads
of creativity that yet remain.
Christ what a choice.
Silence my voice or
go insane.
Patrick McFarland
74
Penitus
He’s found hell
who's searched
his mind and dared
to see his soul.
And heaven too
is there as well
for those who pay
the toll.
But few find heaven
from within and many
rot in hell.
While fewer still find
anything and no one
lives to tell.
Patrick McFarland
75
Periculum
Spinning ever faster into oblivion,
the servant cannot hear the Master’s
voice
All the world burns with the greed
of the new divinity
The preoccupied masses kneel before
the glow of the sacred blue screen as
the last lights of humanity flicker
and vanish into the abyss
Oh man, what has thy vanity brought?
Patrick McFarland
76
Question's of Love
Would you die for love?
Would you die for a chance
to stand naked in love’s
unabashed sunshine
if only for a moment?
And would that moment
pass would you lay down
bitter in the wake of love’s
fated departure?
Patrick McFarland
77
Recollections
Does anyone know where
sanity goes when the voices
cry out in the silence?
And all that you knew has
been proven untrue but the
blood and the pain and the
violence.
If there ever was time to collect
what is mine it’s a long time ago
I am certain.
The reward I desired was consumed
in the fire when the gods up on high
dropped the curtain.
And don’t ever presume that
your life will resume when
insanity passes with morning.
For the shadows hold fast to
the present and past when
love disappears without
warning.
Patrick McFarland
78
Remembrance
The silence of a burning candle
in the dark you touch the handle
of a door within your mind
and suddenly no longer blind
you find the truth you left behind
The truth that long ago was lost
Lost at such a tragic cost
Lost within the recess of your
mind.
Patrick McFarland
79
Samsara
The child opens his eyes and sees
a million points of light, each one
an open door to an endless
possibility.
The adolescent opens his eyes
and sees a hundred thousand
points of light, each one a door
to new hopes and adventures
The adult opens his eyes and sees
a few hundred points of light,
each one a door beckoning him
to new experiences
The retiree opens his eyes and sees
perhaps a dozen points of light, each
one a door, welcoming him to well
earned relaxation
The old man opens his eyes
and sees but one dimly lit point
of light coming from a single door
from which he hears his name
gently being called
In trepidation, he closes his eyes
and walks slowly towards that
final door, and nervously passes
over it's dark threshold
When he opens his eyes,
he is a child with a million
points of light before him,
each one an open door to
an endless possibility.
Patrick McFarland
80
Satori
In the
chasm
between
two thoughts
lies the garden
of bliss.
Easily found
but not easily
entered...
Patrick McFarland
81
Second Haiku
Virtue and sadness
Two sides of a single coin
Anyone have change?
Patrick McFarland
82
Seventeenth Haiku
The lonely spider
Weaving strands in the moonlight
A vivid sermon
Patrick McFarland
83
Seventh Haiku
Back so soon my friend?
Grand departure's purpose served?
You should be ashamed.
Patrick McFarland
84
Sixteen Lines
As I walk along the border
between reason and disorder
Tripping past the neon garden
of my jaded, ill spent youth
Gazing off into the distance
pondering this mad existence
Who is God and what strange
notion led him to create all this?
Take me far beyond the steeple
to a land of unscathed people
Where no single rule or concept
dooms four billion helpless souls
Show me love without condition
without heaven or perdition
Where no acts of false contrition
guarantee eternal bliss
Patrick McFarland
85
Sixteenth Haiku
In my search for truth
I knelt on the temple floor
Sore knees were my prize
Patrick McFarland
86
Sunday at the Zoo
Few dare to
moo at the
zoo.
They sit quietly
on their ass
in the grass
praising the
stench of the
pew.
What else can
they do?
Patrick McFarland
87
Surrealistic Paranoia
Look behind
the tortured mind
and see the man,
the real man
behind the veil
of detail.
The man whose
heart is apart
from the rest
he tries his best
but never quite
succeeds in his
attempt to be one
with reality.
Does this mean
he is not real
the man who feels
all the pain both real
and insane that ever
was because if it does
I’d like to get off
of this ride and hide
someplace inside
myself for a while.
Patrick McFarland
88
Tenth Haiku
The garden of bliss
So difficult to enter
Lies within man's heart
Patrick McFarland
89
Tequila Dreams
Blue moon rising
the night ushers in
a different reality
of party and sin.
Ladies in waiting
waiting for love.
Lovers in corners
and haylofts above.
Punch in a bowl with
spiked orange rinds.
Rooms of satin
with jalousie blinds.
Ashtrays aglow with
paper and fire.
People with needles
get higher and higher.
Bottles of whiskey and
vials of snow stand ready
and waiting for those in the
show.
A king with a scepter
a queen with a sphere
say over and over
“you don’t belong here”.
So you gather your courage
and run for the door, reaching
the threshold you fall to the floor.
Banging and pounding
you can’t get outside there’s
nowhere to run and no place to hide.
Here’s where it ends this thing
we call life…
Patrick McFarland
90
Terminus
A virgin on the wing
makes me wonder
why this thing
keeps turning
and burning
while mankind’s
yearning is never
satisfied.
And the stars shine
and this is mine
and that belongs
to you and all we can do
is cry for yesterday’s
abandoned innocence
and tomorrow’s faded
expectation.
Patrick McFarland
91
The Chosen
Bombs dropped
Flags waved
Politicians re-elected
People cheer
Children die.
We shuffle down
the aisle taking
our cookie from
the ancient pedophile
and smile because
we are surely god’s
chosen rabble.
Pray that Jesus will
spare the hypocrites.
Patrick McFarland
92
The Final Bow
The decay of imagination
and independence.
That which never
should have been
has become.
When the seed
of love is smothered by
the weeds of desperation
and the fires of hell rage
unnoticed in our city streets
then the end has truly come.
Patrick McFarland
93
The Flock
The mistaken illusion of
the churches delusional
interpretation of creation,
and love, and death,
and the hereafter.
We are the darkness
and we are the light.
The spark of creativity
dies in the frightened
eyes of the faithful
hunched freezing in
their Sunday best as
the priest requests
silence while he winds
up the sacred Jesus toy
and makes menacing
assertions to girls and
boys concerning Satan
and hell and the dark
well man will find himself
in if the smallest sin is
concealed from the eyes
of god.
And the celestial host
weeps as the shepherd
leads his flock into the
abyss.
Patrick McFarland
94
The Game
Everybody is different
And everybody’s the same
And everyone is a player
In this crazy little game
But the game it has no winners
And we’re lucky if we survive
The saints, the fools and the sinners
No one gets out alive
Don’t be sad when it’s all over
And the game is put away
Shake hands with all your rivals
And be happy that you played
For it’s time for other children
To step up and roll the dice
Take a chance along the Boardwalk
Walk away or pay the price
And you sit alone in the darkness
When the game of life is through
And you look into the heavens
Because there’s nothing else to do
And you think about the ending
As you slowly drift away
And you can not help but smile
Because you got the chance to play.
Patrick McFarland
95
The Garden
“Are you stupid?
Do you know what you’ve done?
Because you disobeyed me,
you will know death
Because you disobeyed me,
you will know pain
Because you disobeyed me,
you will know sorrow
Because you disobeyed me
you will know hardship
Because you disobeyed me
you will know disease
Because you disobeyed me
you will know hunger
Because you disobeyed me
you will toil all the days of
your life
So I ask you…
Are you stupid? ”
“No”
I answer taking another bite of the apple.
“Not anymore”.
Patrick McFarland
96
The Prostate Check
They can map a brain
to it’s smallest part
and peer inside a
beating heart
They can tell the sex
of a baby to be
with a tube of jell
and a color TV
They can look inside
a woman’s breast
and see a lung
in an old man's
chest
But with all the
technology that
has come to pass
Why must a finger
be shoved up my
Ass? ! ?
Patrick McFarland
97
The Titmouse
There was a little
titmouse who had
so many tits
It was difficult to
find a bra to cover
all her bits
Patrick McFarland
98
The Trip
The ground is shaking
or maybe the bed.
Visions of Avalon dance
in my head.
The world is alive
but my spirit is
dead.
Blues and yellows melt into
red.
“Listen” a voice cries!
“Listen to what’s in your
heart and your head! ”
Patrick McFarland
99
Third Haiku
The world falls apart
All our dreams reduced to ash
Clouds pass unaware
Patrick McFarland
100
Thirteenth Haiku
Eve: 'I am in the mood'
Adam: 'I will have to buy condoms'
Eve: 'See if they have ribbed'
Patrick McFarland
101
Tomorrow
The time we have is ticking fast
.....We don’t know if it will last
........Tomorrow soon will be the
............past but by then I’ll be in
................love.
Patrick McFarland
102
Too Much Nyquil (or 103 degrees of nonsense)
Nothing left inside me
no witty words to write
Nothing but delusion
confusion and respite
Let’s try it another way
because the words
above shove the life
right out of my fragile
mind and I’m blind to
creativity's meandering
abyss.
See, this is rather easy
when I just let the words
fly off the keys like fleas
off a wet duck...
F**k!
That line sucks
OK, forget the bird.
The idea was absurd
anyway.
Ducks with fleas,
please Patrick, you can
do much better.
(Bed wetter? Never mind) .
Shooting blind for sublime
one liners is best left for
the sh*t-house poets who
scribble their dribble on
dirty restroom stalls next
to balled up TP and free
hand sanitizer.
Alright then, once more
with feeling:
This is the story of
Father Keeling, and
an alter boy who was
kneeling…
Forget it!
I’m going to
bed.
Patrick McFarland
103
Twelfth Haiku
Man's two greatest fears:
God has abandoned the world
Or that He hasn’t
Patrick McFarland
104
Twentieth Haiku
Running on my wheel
Unable to effect change
A rat in a cage
Correction:
A rat with a plan
Ill suited for submission
Rattling the bars
Patrick McFarland
105
Twenty First Haiku
A genuine love,
If only for a moment,
Is eternal bliss.
Infatuation,
Though it may last a lifetime
Dies with the body
Patrick McFarland
106
Twenty Fourth Haiku
Serpent of Eden
Your gift of liberation
A curse or blessing?
Patrick McFarland
107
Twenty Second Haiku
From your blackened heart
The voice of intolerance
Mistaken for God
Patrick McFarland
108
Twenty Seventh Haiku
Restless thoughts pervade
A slow rain begins to fall
Madness washed away
Patrick McFarland
109
Twenty Sixth Haiku
No theology
And no ideology
The sound of one hand...
Patrick McFarland
110
Twenty Third Haiku
Just a feeble stump
Where once stood a mighty oak
The story of man
Patrick McFarland
111
Twilight
Sunlight glistens.
I listen to butterfly wings
as a bird sings a song
from a departed age.
Lost in a dream, life
seems empty and
void of substance.
The wind is still
and a chill grips
bones that tremble
alone in the dim twilight
awaiting morning's consoling
bliss.
Patrick McFarland
112
Uisce Beatha
Dead
Lost
The cost of redemption
too high for humanities
dregs to bare
There is no longer light
at the tunnel's end
and my mirrored friend's
eyes are vacant with
tomorrows lost
expectation...
When will the pain end
and the sun rise on the
morning of our soul's
desolation?
Droll preachers intone
empty words of pity
from the ancient book
they've been bred to
recite.
Whiskey or beer might
illuminate the darkness
better.
Patrick McFarland
113
Unbound
Nothing to forgive.
No desire or memory.
Everything cast into the
hell I’ve created for myself.
Nightfall, slumber and the
myth of inner peace.
Moon casts shadows upon
the vanity of man.
First light.
Awaken.
Memory of dreams passes.
It’s time to abandon the
place of my salvation.
Patrick McFarland
114
Upheaval
Vanquished dreams
crash and burn upon
time’s barren field.
The yield of a lifetime
is one half pound
of effort and a few
precious ounces of
success.
At the end, is anyone
remotely satisfied
with the frantic waste
that was the last 26,280
days?
The best minds
of our generation
rot before the alter
of Yahweh or the
wide screen TV.
2000 years waiting
in vain for the next
Messiah to save us
from the doldrums
of mediocrity.
Nietzsche understood
and it drove him mad.
Is that what it amounts to?
Boredom or insanity?
Ah man, what vanity
has led thee to this place
of desolation?
Patrick McFarland
115
Upside Down in the Void
Upside down in the void.
Annoyed by politicians
and priests who feast at
the trough of the ignorance
of mankind, blind to the
devastation their righteous
proclamations heap upon
Eden’s polluted shore.
Babylon’s whore holds firm
their fate in her celestial grasp.
They will soon stand before
perdition’s impartial flame.
The liar, the killer, and the thief of
salvation.
Dante’s imagination could not
conceive a suitable torment for
their lamentable offenses.
Patrick McFarland
116
Vindico
When on Sunday I kneel and pray
Before the alter of man’s decay
I look up at the Christ and
I hear him say
“It’s time for you to go.
Reality lies within your dreams
and only you know what that means
But I can’t tell you a single thing
you don’t already know”.
So I walk outside,
across the floor
Past the choir
and out the door
Remembering things
I knew before...
When I was a younger man.
Patrick McFarland
117
Wake Up!
Is this the end
of friendship
and trust?
Must the future
spiral into chaotic
disorder before
the border between
the here and now
is forever plowed
over by tomorrow's
unborn generation?
What decisions will
our children's children
face in the uncertain
world we craft today?
The future is now!
Wake up!
Patrick McFarland
118
What If
How many have to die
in God’s name before
the finger of blame
is finally pointed
at the cross and
the crescent
and the star?
How far would
our spirits
soar
without the hatred
And intolerance
that bring war
and death to
the hearts of
the children
of the world?
Patrick McFarland
119
Wilderness
We can’t forget our
nightmares
And we can’t recall
our dreams
While everything
is illusion
No matter how it
seems
But somewhere in
the darkness
There’s a tiny fading
light
And all I can do
is pray that you
find shelter in the
night
A man will know
his enemies
And a woman know
her friends
While the bishop
on his chess board
Only knows how
to pretend
And the Christian
looks for answers
In his ancient
Holy book
But the answers lie
in the children’s eyes
if he would only stop
and look
A day is gone forever
in the moment that
it ends
While a memory is
eternal
If we share it with
a friend
And the universe
will answer
If we listen for
the call
But we will have
to find a quiet place
because it’s voice
is rather small…
Patrick McFarland
120
Writer's Block
Man can it get any worse than
this? Aimless verse floats
in space and time till
I’m sick of the shtick
coming out of my head.
Dead words on a wasted
page scream rage to no
one in particular.
(Great! Now I have to find
a rhyme for particular.
Vernicular?
Absurd, not a real word.)
Poetic license I believe
allows for nonsense I
conceive.
Past 25 or 6 to 4.
Christ what a bore it
is to exist in the here
and now.
Patrick McFarland
121
Zen
Leaving behind the shadow
of rationalization’s unfulfilled
promise to enter the world
of eternities chaotic
illumination
Nothing eternal is stagnant
and nothing vibrant truly
dies.
Flies gather on the corpses
of unrealized potential
while inertia winds ever
faster into oblivion’s
indifferent lair.
Live
Exist
Be
There is nothing else...
Patrick McFarland