Eat Up

by Pat Darnell

I been to the depression chamber
I been lower than a grass root
I was ground and dappled
Like pepper on a salad
Till my daddy give me fruit

He’d croon up to our rooms
‘Now hear this; ‘Now hear this
‘Sweepers man your brooms
‘Clean sweep down fore and aft’

[Twheeee ieee wheet]

‘Clean sweep down before we eat!’

This is so good
This is so good that
This is so good that the
The Navy eats it
Yeah, the Navy eats it up

I am tired from aches and pains
I been chippin’ paint all morn’
Hidin’ my chaw in my cheek till
O’er the horn:
... swells: ‘Twelve bells’

I spit a wad in the leak...
Yeah I spat t’bacco
To stop the leak
Until I return

This is so bad
This is so bad that
This is so bad that it’s good

So good, the Navy eats it
Yeah, the Navy eats it up... They do--
The entire floatin’ Navy
At twelve noon, eats it up!

It keeps us all afloat
How we care for our boat
We steam to Tuscany and Omaha
We visit the China Sea
But what keeps us on our feet
Is three squares a day we eat

Eat up old boy
Eat up skullduggery
Scrape and grind; repeat ten times
The hull you plug her ye’
But at noon clean your plate
... you see
Eat up and clean your plate
The Navy cannot wait

Nun's?

Impromptu Limerick
by Pat Darnell


One Response to “Inflatable Church”
Pat Darnell and Friends says: August 7, 2008 at 9:12 pm

NUNS?

Once I kissed a nun
who came very undone
in the pew next to Bartholomew…
Where I prayed

She glared at me in a state
that could scare diamonds off a snake
and send me to hades
in the back of the Pope’s Mercedes…
[Turns out] — She was more interested in passing of the plate!!

(Poolcan pd-in-full)

Paint_teeks

by Pat Darnell | 2010

Collectives

One Melody

a Thousand lyrics

One lyric

a Thousand melodies.

We are sold

In this country

are we Dead ghosts

Going home

at ____________?

Yesterday someone killed ___________ thousand.

Dead ghosts, why'd they let go;

a thousand Ancient forgotten souls

and all their bones

Collectibles.

Singing Falsetto

by Pat Darnell | 2010

The best place to play

They call the ghetto

Where is there a park bench
... to lay down
... none in the shade

Where I can curl up
... and do time again

... can't afford, I don't ask
... lead a conscience green

... read your last letter last night
... whimpered alone

... all for lost time
... scripts down a scene

Unscripted it felt
What I think
ask her: No. It's done.

What am I going to tell everyone?

Little League Sign Up Day

by Pat Darnell | 1995

Sun struck driver
creeps by
urchins carry
boom boxes on shoulders
along sidewalk warm
playin' winter's discoveries
like teenager alarm.

Cabin weary moms
stretch out
in dusty, musty
jogging suits
a little saggy

faded and bagging
on hibernated legs
and torsos a little loose
like pajamas on the Mamas

Every one out
for a look see
at salted curbs
debris, will there be
one more frost?

on Easter...?

before soil disturbed
by daffodil, tulip
strawberry, and weeds

No sign of Dad yet
no hurry, except
for those in charge
of today's
Little League Sign Up

Around you see
those with tans
already they
been livin' largess
heavy hitters
who split
during winter mess

Yes; some Mom's 've been yachting
Some Dads leisured on Feb beaches
near America's Cup sweeps
lucky ones with nose up
richer gettin' richer
parents persnickety,
their kids are all pitchers!

Try-outs in the gym
winters melting
in fields wetting
So the clickety-clack
of baseball bats
must wait till
winter whey
all goes away
in seasonal decay
is born Little League Sign Up Day !

Pain Never Ending

by Pat Darnell

My Pain is endless
it never ceases
On waking, it cringes
At dusk, infringes
Keeps me sleepless

A neck strain today
toothaches yesterday
rheumatism, eye strain,
I'm not pretending,
Enemies? Your revenge
on me, I'm getting

Daughters your anger
answered this appendage
As pain never end-age
Upon a man intending
no elder life like this

Sometimes a lung
sometimes a thumb
feet like slabs of numb
chest's dull nag ...
... head hung

By witness of bone
these prizes I bear
alone
can I mitigate home

No mantel nor cloak
to conceal or abide
this stranger than life
episode I wish to hide

My humble prayer
to God above ...
release all my folk
from this despair

Calmly, quietly,
in warm attachment
... let me go,
for these pains impeding
pain never-ending
no one should ever know.

Inside Outside

Play on carpet
with domino
look through a box
bang my head
on the window

Happily clap
with wrists up
and up, elbow up
goes wild my pup

The storm descends
always washes away
I get out of the wind
as the stormy weather
interrupts my play

Quickly return
to my Spring-scented day
in the yard ...
... full to the curb
covered with juicy clover
puppy runs all over ...

Play outside ...
till the storm clouds cover
play outside ...
till the clouds come over

Stiff thunder scares me back inside
gray sky thunder makes me hide.

Life Changing Events

by Pat Darnell | Foggia '05

Check all signs
parlay the scriptures
call the Comforter
repeat the six prayers
from prayer chair

Deliver pet dog
at kennel by dinner
Toss her to the chain links
she muffles a query:

Do not eat this
Look, I did this
... this or, this?
You did none of it.
I did every thing
You did nothing.

Light flashes
on -- then on again --
YEPP' and MP3
Cellular, then off,
then wait, then
crackle...

Then BBC, then engines
very large engines
Then a push through
weather

A rock skipping over the clouds
a stone flies again

Do you know
where we are
?

Muncheritis

by Pat Darnell

Hanging upside down
on a pine branch
like a wren looking
for an aphid

I let the Minsky
frisk me because
I wouldn't blow
in his tube

Then it struck me
this is like images
within a mirror
with attitude

And I swear
that is not why
they jumped me
in verisimilitude

Of my actions
as it is plain
I was only out there
searching for food.

(Today, May 2010)

Earth Does

by Pat Darnell

What tethers
us in space?

No tackle
nor knots I've seen

like a kite
on a string

pulls to earth
us back in

a bucket
out of a well

depth breadth
comprehensible expanse
trek out a far distance

not to be lost
at our entrance

looking for face
recognizable out in space

what tethers us
in space?

Everyday at 17:00 hours

Prophets are Jawboned


How can I go on believing the greater you is in me?
Burst-ed bones of broken legs into a fire
potash and embers of Yaupon and Aspen
And jawbone of an ass
Jutting out, smoky mass --
Turning watery eyes watery
Crackling, disturbing to the finish
A wash of mountain yonder made
End of day, in fixed array
Devoid of end shade
Fixed time light dappled
Ordinary mottled
And variegated home
of praying mantis

Darnell 2006

Tough Love

by Pat Darnell | Nov 2007

Don't you ever
want to know
how I got here?

'Want to know
how I put
this road
behind me?

I thought you
would want to know me
if I became a tree
you might carve
your name
in my bark

And return one day
and see how
I protected you.

Let Loose a Tear

by Pat Darnell | Nov 2007

This crying
should probably
stop,

in a decade
or three

I keep trying
to write
the alternate ending

Sort of turns
out like a
letter within a story

True love reared its head
leered at me
then went to bed

Goal achieved
like background music
at cinema twenty-three

Focus on victory
break through stillness
celebrate in warmth

Accept my fate
story goes on
as endless coast

Of treasure, love, sea
tears and prophecy
some old songs

Lifts a few of my burdens
takes me back
'n lets loose a tear

Concert of Circle

Concert of song
see the fellowship
of women strong
... it is the songs
of children ...
of child birth ...
and so on

and of desire
and of great longing

Hush, maybe, do not disturb
their heartfelt songs
prayers in concert
... hear sisters sing
about their children
and their lives ...
with their hums,
between belling ...

Observe how they
grow chatty ...
around the bread
along with fishes that
seem to always follow
women ahead

Peering there --
just behind Jesus ...
... amid branches
sifting streamlettes,
and tinkling triplets ...

Singing their songs
to sustenance,
to strength,
from beginning to end
fellowship of women...
isn't it remarkable
their concert of circle.

Patrick Darnell (2001)

Descry

by Pat Darnell


Dangling at the end
Of the food chain

Was a soldier.

Who lost his wife
His gun, his son,
And nearly his life.

When then he found a clarinet
That upon it had his name,
A honed woodwind,
primed him in
breathing easier,
until one day,
He wrestled a tree
Finally fell
His body went
To pieces, which
All the creatures ate.
A happy feast that day,
At heaven’s gate.

His soul escaped
Not devoured
In final hour

A hand reached out
To catch him,
Put the young soul on a cloud,
At about half past two,

The soul of the soldier
Said, “Thank you.”
The one with the hand
Told the soldier’s soul
his new name --

“Metronome.”

And the cloud’s address
is 12, a matchless home.


The clarinet re-toned
with scales of delightful scores,
Notes uniform, and impossible
For human ears to hone.
On that same day
Upon earth fell
Twins, borne ‘neath
A channel, in gale,
whereupon two games
Will be played.

Each would owe life
To the soldier’s demise
While shepherds
Pastured their sheep, ‘neath birds
In their freedom flight,
To the river to drink

Their blood is from
The river flowing
To the iodine sea
They fly above
the living pleasure
as rocking waves knead
the banks, fertile with seed

As naught has ever
Been seen froward
Nor in reverse, evinced
In famish, nor, glory ward,

Obscurity, nor lucidity,
Neither scheme, schism, nor worry,

Beheld the brilliance in life
as a dread vantage of rough
High-spirited games
Dangled by threads above gulf
Just below cloud twelve
Stirred at soldier’s end, just
A gnash ahead in the food chain.


1991

Willy's Turkey Chilli Paste

Three years workin'
and he ain't tellin'
what it is ...
... you are smellin'

by Pat Darnell

Three years work ...
and pot likker still
tastes like chicken ...

Just Kiddin' !

Prawn to King three
clock is tickin' time
turkey bastin' -- let it be,
thrice cooking ...heat lickin'
Fahrenheit two hundred nine...

Farseeing, slow cook toil
like desert gravel boil,
mesquite leaf grind,
Darjeeling, still no oil

Mocking birds don't mock,
'cause beads of sweat pock
meaty cook's forehead
and his big arm-like hocks

Cigar meshed and wet
between monstrous molars
ash mixed in pot sweat
and ash falling to floors

Foliage swept and ground
watered in morning rain
added dandelion to mound
pewter pot boilin' plain

Beads of sweat
... form stains
on chef's hat ...
his legs and neck strained

Pot's right!
... he exclaims
Grandpa was right
... it is the same

But whoa it is tough
... to embrace today
what some remember
... as good old days.

But down home we try
We're willing 'n braced,
To sit by and cry
... when we all taste:

Grandpa Willy's ...
... Wild, Turkey Chilli.

[pd. 2004]

Lord let me die in a Book Store

Lord let me die
in a book store

So my last look
is edges of books

let my head fall
on the bones of Elisha

atop collections
of Natural Curiosities

In the Barnes at noblesse
or Joe's Book entrance

let my arm grow limp
under weight of clearance

99 cent bargains in tow
of Pollack, Tristan and van Gogh

So I will have died
just as the dead rise

so, Please do not weep
over my face ... nor book

You might get wet
the type on my place

or dampen picture anthology
of one more LOOK .

[pd]

Patch

by Pat Darnell

Shadow won't stick
won't stay attached
sent me adventuring
for thimble and tack
'n needle to patch.

Patch where past
meets a future
but jealousy flaps,
cuts quick ... a
perfect suture.

No more than rocks
can walk on water,

with little faith and stuff,
to arms! ... say for starters
shadow always tempted,
... sure enough ... Seems,
Shadow always gets broader.

[pd.2009]

Don’t be codger to me old man

by Pat Darnell

I don’t like being tossed aside
I am fretting my fate
Kitchen spills may be small
But too many broken hearts
Simply we do not repair all
You hear distant voice
A fond soundtrack
Predestined of choice
And you fret and crack
I had my heart attack
I reveal my full heart ache
You listen but abate
As heartstrings leave slack
Difficult flat to mitigate
even for hummingbirds
to trans-navigate
You are Specie of Strength so youth say
Don’t be codger to me old man
I am not interested
And you are in the way
Or, as you don famously
To point out the way
To clues of nerve chords
To invert our shameful play
Thanks but no thanks
You play too many tricks
I loathe your blood anger
And garlands festooned
Like piñatas beat with sticks
Seeds of salvation are rand
And not in your hands ole man
Nor in the works of your hands
From raptors talons, I howl back to say
Into this imbalance youth threw me too soon

Restorations

by Pat Darnell

We are founders unintended
... of sports medicine
we were the cutting edges
... when they invented
special restorative surgeries
... for the body mended

it was our duty back when ....
to offer our booty and then
... as cargo for surgeons' opportunists
our ankles, knees, shoulders and shins
... hips, ham strings, coccyx in stadiums
ribs, elbows, femurs and wrists
neck, nose, ears and craniums

and for athletes who fight and smoke
... a lung or two could be doctor's duty
We invented bruises, strawberries
All those sports injurious pokes ...
... that sound fruity; but we aren't chow ...
... we were there, to bust some brow!

And yes, gave it we our all
... enthusiastic to the wall
followed our coach all the way
out the tunnel hall

e'en to Korea ... if that be the day
we were there to win or fall...
we always showed when called
... smash mouth, crack back, football

Now look we are YMC referees
... and assistant coaches at your call
Saying in the Fall:
"Our knees once tore
when runners swerved ...
on dives when they soared
... ligaments and tendons torn
.. under pressures too great to borne"

And, one couldn't help that much,
since big boys is as big boys does
but aftermath spelled doom
on a College team there's no room
for knees crumbled and busted
... schoolboy dreams' faded to dust did

Today Mister Doctor DeBakey
at the Sports Medicine bakery
they repair knees precisely and quickly
Then you are told ...
... you to get out there and swiftly
and put your repairing knee to task

We used to run on sore knees, yes,
... but not because they convalesced
but because we had a game to play
back then, all that surgery waits ...
... for another day of instigates,

Run like a warrior
... kick like a mule
... dig like a mole
no sniffling, that's the rules

Breathing so hard
... you bruise your ribs
drink tons of water
... not Mr Pibbs

Follow the ball
... follow your coach
... warriors big, warriors tall
... We're stoked,
... smash mouth warfare, football

We old guys really did sacrifice
hoped those who'd come next
... would hear our parables
appreciate what we practice
and understand  injuries' tolls ...
... some aren't repairable .
and football fascism ...
has claimed our souls
and our injuries have played many roles.