Brain Storm

By Patrick Lillis

I often write my story,
But I have no book to publish.
I collect what speaks to me,
But some may call it rubbish.
I like to play with toys,
Though I am not a child.
Many call me wacky,
But no one calls me wild.
I harmonize to music,
But I am not a singer.
I do Liza in the mirror,
But look more like Deborah Winger.
I seldom stop for ceilings
When a project gets me flying.
I’m afraid of sudden death,
But I’m not afraid of dying.
I still don’t get why seasons change,
Yet I store my clothes each spring.
And I travel to the moon sometimes
To take back things I fling.
To me, toupees just look like fear,
And brave looks silvery gray,
And payphones look like tombstones
On the streets of yesterday.
I like to talk of life
But my mom prefers the weather,
And I still can’t find good substitutes
For potato chips and leather.
I sometimes think that living long
Is not for everyone,
And that demons, me, and time
Are still things I can outrun.
I’m not afraid of thunder,
But a mess when my dog is.
And I don’t think it’s polite
To sell towels “hers” and “his”.
Everybody loves me
If it doesn’t ask too much,
And nothing that I love
Walks away without a crutch.
I don’t know how to fear a god
Then turn to him for answers,
Or why clowns don’t stay in the ring
As long as hoops and dancers.
I often lose the lesson
Of my last mistake or blunder,
And I sometimes think my purpose
Will be this world’s eighth wonder.
Nothing makes me quite as sad
As things that say self-loathing,
Like a gay man in a catholic church,
Or a big girl in black clothing.
I like that karma always wins,
As when a bull fights back.
And that giving on the road of life
Puts you back on track.
I don’t know why grown men don’t cry
And I don’t know why kids do.
I’d follow a yellow brick road to know,
But the damn things painted blue.
I think it’s good to brainstorm,
But not always alone.
And I still prefer a voice
To a text on my cell phone.
I resent that love is fragile,
And elusive to the touch.
And if the truth will set me free,
Why does it cost so much?
I don’t like to change my flavors,
But I’ll move states in a snap.
And I think the Pope’s big dress
Is just a place to hide his crap.
I hear the world may end today,
So I’ll wash my clothes tomorrow,
And try my sandwich with the crust,
And see what I can borrow.
I’ll do my best to smell each rose,
And to look up at the sky,
And learn to love, flaws and all,
This complicated guy.


Patrick Lillis is an artist, poet, art therapist, licensed mental health counselor, and licensed massage therapist. He lives and works in the Boston area. He occasionally exhibits in shows and enjoys doing a series of paintings on a theme. His work a way for him to process, understand and integrate what he learns from his environment, culture, and society in general. He has two writing projects near completion which he hopes to publish in 2012.