Predator in the Pews

You wrap your deeds in a smile—
You devious praying mantis.
Nothing is ever genuine with you;
No conversation ever true.

All agenda.
Heart full of hate,
Painted red—pretender,
Rummaging through the pews
Like a full-fledged predator.

Envy drives your hollow quest,
You crave the gaze, reject the rest.
Sneaky, sneaky—
You rewrite holy truth for show,
But even lies can overflow—
And now attention knows.

Fool them—because you can.
But you’ll never fool me.
You're not smart enough
To school me.

Let silence be
The distance between us.

Copyright©2025 by Camille Caliscia Patrick

UNTIL DAWN

Loyalty is only blind for a season,

but if the earth revolves in its usual place,
in its usual space,
there will come a time when
all loyalists will see

that the public good
is a private affair—
with a price.

And the man who begs for bread
could very well be fed some rice
by the one who devours steak—
if only he was awake
to change
his season.

Loyalty is only blind
in the night,
but if the earth keeps turning
on this axis,
there will come a time when
all loyalists see

the hidden foe—
friend, brother, member, lover,
and every other reason
to commit
to the heart of someone
with a cloaked agenda 
in your winter.

Copyright©2025 by Camille Caliscia Patrick

HAVEN

Memory in itself can do you no justice
If in yourself you were not magical and sublime,
Your construct pens love from multiple sources
Making you an incomparable haven.

In one instance, you echo happiness 
Yet in another, you absorb tears 
For five senses were brought to life
Solely to do your bidding

The lonely heart and the diseased being
Network across great distances
To embrace your entirety 
To be swooned by your spell

But the teenager in his naivety,
The aged in nights of feebleness 
Long desperately to free the spirit
And equate bliss with your release.

For nature has birthed but a fortunate few
Whose solemn rhythm crawl at your mercy
And though your magic seems burdensome, 
The snail, the turtle, and the distant soul
All seek refuge in a place called home.

Copyright©2013 by Camille Caliscia Patrick

CONDEMNED

Crippled by doubt, paralyzed by fears

A condemned man sits engulfed by his tears

Few thoughts of freedom, as a gentle wind blow

Enchained by deferred hope in ways no one else knows

Through his soul's windows, he peeps out at life

Then remembers the days when it cut like a knife

Wounds of experience, the dark colors of age

Limit his imagination and handcuff him to rage

It’s his own self indulgence that bore him regret

Yet chance of appeal he refuse to accept

For truth calls out to Him more than anyone else

And though he desires much freedom

He complies with the sentence of self

Copyright©2009 by Camille Caliscia Patrick

AIRBORNE DILEMMA

There is a window in my shell, self chiseled by my beak
To a world-wheel of possibilities, I’m sure
Where skies are sunny blue and rainbows rise and fall
And trees sway limb by limb to windy melody.
A quick glimpse at mama’s wings implores,
That I explore this world unknown
She sings of things to come, like hunts and windy glides
And a quest awaiting me, the day I leave this rest
But what if myself I free and come out of my shell,
And leave behind those wonderful things,
I have grown to love so well
Will this hole become a gate, to predators and hate?
Will blue skies disappear? 
And will fortune bow, to fatal falls and fear?
Maybe, I am just better off in here!
Copyright©2013 by Camille Caliscia Patrick