Quotes about patton, page 22
In the darkness of your skin
In the darkness of your skin
Is the ancestral love of men
In your eyes, yes deep within
Is the love that can but win
Your hands must be posed to defend
The love that loves itself as kin
Brother to brother sister to sister
We blacks have come to discover
The ease of loving each other
A battle fought hard and won
Under the African and American sun
Be it for the poets to say
That in matter of the heart we know the way
To praise by the motion of our pens
The glorious love of men for men
We warn you brother do not condemn
What it is that you do not understand
Except your brother as friend
For he is needed in the battle
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poem by David E. Patton
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Sounds explode
I.
Sounds explode
The science of pronunciation
Exposed.
Force explains when Rs are rolled.
Glory teaches the words
To find their lesser forms.
Prosody tastes of the intensity
Of vowels.
Tones’ rhythm are laid down
By letters and text moving around.
The quantity of speaking tongues
When weeping the significance of the word
Hum is an acceptable treasury
As the word cum.
II.
The third word creature born
Commonly called poems
Are formed by the
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poem by David E. Patton
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I have had my say
I have had my say
About sex and men
I have said it in many ways
And now is the time
To put my pen
In the service of
Romanic love to win,
To speak of matters
Of the soul if such a thing there be
To compare him to the beauty of snow
That blows in from across the sea
To romance you as I would has you
To romance the likes of me
To speak of the beauty of the male form
To take up arm with my pen
And squeeze out the beauty
As poetry was meant to be.
O my love, O my dear
Let me whisper sweet thing in your ear
I love you dear as I love you dearly
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poem by David E. Patton
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Let me keep watch
Let me keep watch
Over your body when
You are resting in peace.
Let me sacrifice
My meditation to you
When you are resting in peace
Let me protect your body
From rotting
When you are resting in peace.
Let me protect your memories
And dreamless dreams
When you are resting in peace.
Let me plant a fruit tree
Above you that I may still eat
When you are resting in peace.
Let me storm the gates of heaven
When you are resting in peace.
Let me give you oblation
Of our experience
When you are resting in peace.
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poem by David E. Patton
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Rain comes again
Rain comes again
My coat is wet
With winks willing
To be a mystery
On the other day
Of rain shakes
The glass and I’m
Caught between
The mirror till
Now is now
Let it rain
Rain rain
Come back again
Till I put my
Wet booths on
And rain all
Over you rain
Rain comes end wise
Stay come and stay
Rain rain
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poem by David E. Patton
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I advance within the pulverized air
I advance within the pulverized air
That vigorously attacks the instant.
I rumble in my muscles of good tidings
With my reservation as drunken as the
Word nigger spoken on the tongue
Emptied of compassion.
My poems are blemishes of suicide
Humble by the unformed evidence
Deformed defiance when the geography
Of the dawn loose of its strength and intelligence
And fall free from the self I keep hidden
In my back pocket.
I am more then the business end of my prick
Designated as a common warrior
Of negritude most profound against the
Cowardly determination of arbitrary discrimination.
Suddenly my country stands up against
The apocalyptic pestilence of interdiction
And the conquest designated paternal
When the stones of broken clouds
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poem by David E. Patton
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The Stars Are Psanky Egg
The stars are psanky eggs
The rope around the neck of the moon
Is made of clouds
The baby that cries in the night
Is crying for the salvation of man
Yes it is all up to the baby to save us
The night smells of new stainless steel
The cars are rubbing their rubber
Against the asphalt railing that
Captures the dangerously flumes
That chocks the night
I am a walrus wobbling around
In the seascape of my head
Night is caught in an empty bird house
Night is forever being caught in between something
I am a walrus wobbling around
The night that is in a tail spin
The night is forever falling forward
In the fold of my lips grows rubber a rose
Night is full of the sounds of fun
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poem by David E. Patton
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Ego words redeemed
Ego words redeemed
Artist-hero is me
A symnoliste groomed
To prove that I belongs
As a reflating heritage
Of Baudelaire and Caesar
I have escaped my agony
My version of my selves
And Laforage the dancing
Visionary who creeked created beauty
I cold hand the moon
And Godlike indiffernance
With my critical intelligence
Here am I compensated
With my practice of poetry
And middle-class resentment
Against words that hangs
Off the tip of the tongue
Uneasiness is in deep
Rest precariousness the
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poem by David E. Patton
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My father invented many things
My father invented many things
Least of them the wings
You should not get close
To things that amaze you
I was soaring high
Pleased to be in the sky
The bird’s eye is what caught me
It is man along that will hear
The measure of my song
The blue jay care not
That I am a poet
What I say may not affect you
But I am true to myself
In the wide open air
My father and I are
Ether brave or foolish
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poem by David E. Patton
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St. Louis was dying
St. Louis was dying
Under the weight of
Lost telephones
Thrown away by
The deaf hands of
My computer speakers
The keyboard misspelled
The noon day sun
When St. Louis was dying
Under stress of crime
Thrown into the furnace fire
Where an angel was born
To save the weigh of
Telephone wires strung
Down the dirty and dingy
Alley in the back yard of
A renovated heaven
The key board of the noon day sun
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poem by David E. Patton
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