Placebo Town (revisited)


Is ‘Love’
just another
four letter word
given a life sentence?
With loud voices
taking away choices
Sometimes too little?
Sometimes too much?
Such is life
in this world of strife
Where they’ll turn
your smile
into a frown
by hanging you
upside down
from the whipping post
known as Placebo Town

‘They’ … being
the men from Area Grey
who program you to say
“Get well soon”
to all the sleepers
wearing fluffy slippers
encased in death’s cocoon
“Lovely to meet you
… and have a nice day”
And ‘You’ … is who?
As your future
is bought and sold
at the market
of insecurities
With the master apprentice
holding the lever
Your least debt
feeding the much richer
Awake, for heaven’s sake
there ain’t no winning
this game of Monopoly
The Big Shake Down
is played for keeps
in Placebo Town

As for ‘Me’ …
me in the East
Under the same old yoke
of some new priest
By force
feeding me
his tainted yeast
Yet my stomach is empty
as my skin is brown
But you …
you in the West
who in power
play around
with the lives of us
who are gagged and bound
But keep taking it easy
Have a nice rest
For surely
Armageddon is coming
to Placebo Town

Is this existence
a swirling vortex
of which
I must make sense?
Am I, you, we
living a pretence
at truth’s expense?
Are we colour
living in contrast?
Or black and white
out of focus?
Just a biological blast
projected onto
some future past?
Am I, me, we,
‘True Blue’?
Am I well and truly
set free
and in the presence?
Living within
the heart and soul
of Holy mindfulness?
Providence with purpose?
I am on a promise
The word given
In name
in deed
and in person
The one who
is faithful and true
a loving spoonful
of truth
is a divine recipe
With integrity
like a hot shot
of espresso coffee
Am I just decaf?
Or only Blend 43?
Having been plucked
roasted & ground
in that infernal place
called Placebo Town

The Lover
of beauty
Seeking justice
Finding mercy
in the knowing
Requiring the giving
and the taking
of an occasional selfie
at the Right & Royal
Navel Gazing Academy
The path of virtuosity
an unexpected journey
The answer searching
the altitude of latitude
as all hell
with brakes loose
and the heavens descending
Finding a true friend
Even better
the Salvage Master
A brother with a spare dime
at the Laundromat
of Space and Time
As the Good Samaritan
crosses all tribal lines
through the headwinds
at the crossroads
the wonder of a sign
From the one
who shadows over
a multitude of crime
Not the rumour of a gossip
from the marketplace
not a trace
Not the whisper of a sound
heard through the din
of Placebo Town

The Taker
climbing the crater
of wordly power
with his pants on fire
Just another scavenger
is the master’s apprentice
from the golden tower
Silver tongue preaching
to the ‘rat race choir’
as All Star Evangelical
guns for hire
strut the catwalk
of dog eat dog empire
Where the trained to heel
are “keeping it real”
whilst cutting a deal
It’s always peak hour
on the indiscreet streets
the zero ground
in that empty space
called Placebo Town

The Faithkeeper
keeping faith
with the One Great Spirit
And with only
his ethereal mantle
for cover
upon a wing and a prayer
is prepared
for an evil visit
A celestial battle
with a skyclad Wayshower
of borrowed power
Channeling nothing more
than the deepest regret
The mere glimmer
of a shiver
Paper lanterns lit
against a twister
in the night
Those paths that glitter
always seem right
Yet bring only litter
from a burial mound
There can only
ever be
one heavenly winner
in this
the final round
As lines of division
are drawn
on barren ground
with the charred bones
exhumed from the tombs
of Placebo Town

Where might
makes right
as truth takes flight
from the gutters
of corruption
Where mercy
gone missing
Yet grace freely taken
but never given
by the heirs and graces
of the unforgiving
Where truer words
never are spoken
Where oppression the weapon
loving kindness a weakness
and deception the poison
From the malicious
and religious
both domestic and foreign
Where souls are downtrodden
bartered and broken
by the vicious victorious
Yet the stone free
running hungry
like angry young Warhols
In a delusion
called ‘Democracy’
the armchair moralising
of couch surfing trolls
madly typing
in mad reaction
Teen spirit advising
whilst sniffing back a tear
and smelling the fear
of a lost future generation
Tuning in to the diatribe
of broken pride
from a fallen tribe
Taking bids on the side
for the body and soul
of a child bride
In a graveyard breeze
the questions left hanging
Political correctness
stopping the answer
ever being spoken
As the blind
will guide you
to a spirit feasting
Where keyboard warriors
are desperately seeking
the cyber crown
of a fabled kingdom
never to be found
Along with the unctuous
and the funktuous
all dwelling
in the cellar
of Placebo Town

The Seafarer
seeking truth
Does all plain sailing
make you a plain sailor?
“A journey …
to the heart of darkness!
What could be better?!”
Prepare to be boarded
and searched
by the Goodship Captain
and the interstellar
fellow traveller
from escalator
to service elevator
With permission
on a mission
my soul to retrieve
Lost in the weave
of a wicked web
A weave so tight
you’d forget
how to breathe
One stich at a time
crossing a finite line
As virtue retreats
in the land
of giant deceits
going down
in that ever so
fashionable shit hole
known as Placebo Town

So down and laid low
past tired and sore
like a piece of junk mail
shoved under death’s door
I felt the flow
of water living
A celestial upwelling
The Spirit uplifting
Heard the whisper
on the wind
like a mighty roar
“Ten Four”
from above and beyond
and even more
Angels from every angle
in awe and keeping score
The Living God commands
as death so demands
honesty in totality!
How can any man
born of a woman stand?
Before the shadow
surrounds you
with a fear
you just can’t
see through
look to the Son
… in person
with a clear view
To the One who
is faithful and true
His Kingdom Come!

The Dinki Di
bursting out
from behind
the shadow
in your eye
As dark energy
switches back on the lights
and dark matter
with glory … reignites
The concealed revealed
from way on high
The curtain coming down
on a dark place
called Placebo Town

The pusher
pushing for proof
Is Life a one shot
self inflicted wound
eternity bound
down the barrel of a gun?
In a land
of bumper sticker opinions
it seems everybody’s got one
No truth to be found
in Placebo Town

The User
chasing a desperate treasure
beyond hunger’s full measure
Over black seas
under red skies
past the last post
to the hitching rail
Covered in the dust
of a crooked trail
With a past
you just can’t disguise
in word or deed
In need of that
wonder working teflon
There is a strong
and mighty tower
in the distance
deep within you
just longing
to give you shelter
With a door
that’s always open
The truly fair dinkum
When all said and done
look to the Son
Ashes to diamond
Kingdom Come!

The believer true
you just can’t
drill through
The criminal
upon a supernatural
mind renewal
now recycling
every blessed molecule
that’s been Injected
moulded and thrown
into that landfill
known as Placebo Town

Life for a time
a privilege divine
Sensual and blissful
The sensation
of happiness
just beginning
Endless loving
over flowing
from a wellspring within
Morning sunshine
The infinite sublime
Rivers and streams to cross
from valleys deep
The mountains to climb
in the shadow of your wing
Unity in purpose
motivation service
to the Lord of all things
As the bell of truth rings
I’ve still a way to go
till I get to the sea
through all the to and fro
May the road rise
and the waters flow
Hope * Faith * Love
In expectation
of what
an unexpected
tomorrow may bring
from the heavens down
As the crow flies
and the Angels sing
Severing the last
remaining string
of Placebo Town

~ by david redpath © 2018





david redpath © 2018

41 thoughts on “Placebo Town (revisited)”

    1. As Jimmy Dean, driving sight unseen,
      says to Elvis Costello (that’s the English one
      since the real one was busy jerking a soda),
      “Let me get straight to the point, don’t
      bogart that joint. Hand it over to me”.
      As Marilyn reaches for a dancing pole,
      named Lech Wałęsa, saying, “Jimmy,
      you can watch me for free …
      as you watch out for that tree,
      in the boardroom jungle of Placebo Town”.

      (Thanks Chris,
      for that extra spark of inspiration.)

      Liked by 2 people

      1. You’re welcome, David.

        Another Jimmy- Carter- once said, “I want to have carnal relations with the Polish people,”
        because his translator didn’t know a lamp from a church steeple.
        And Karol Wojtyla would give way to Francis the clown
        As Marxist theology becomes the drug in Placebo Town.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Where Rasputin is selling
        opium laced indulgences
        to the huddled masses.
        Where George W. feels
        that one bird in the bush
        is better than holding a deuce
        in the holy game of Poker.
        And where weapons
        of mass destruction
        can’t handle the truth
        when Jack Nicholson
        prays for the living proof
        in the name of the Joker
        … at the grave of Heath Ledger.
        There the vultures sleep underground
        after feeding all day in Placebo Town.

        ( This is all your fault Dracul …
        You only have yourself to blame.
        And thanks again. )

        Liked by 3 people

  1. David; Brother, you are a gifted soul and we, you readers are your beneficiaries. You may not have a choice in using your gift, but you do have a choice of whether you share it or not. Thank you for choosing to share it with us. Blessings and Shalom.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thanks for you generous comments.

      Roaming free
      in the land of rhymes
      upon the shoulders
      of giants
      to see what I may see
      It is clear to me
      we all be guilty
      of nursery crimes
      All one can do
      is to say it true blue
      and write up a frenzy
      . . . of defiance
      ~ David R.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. As I roam free
        in the land of rhymes
        I come across poems
        which seem like poetic crimes
        There is oft no reason nor any rhyme
        But I plod on in search of gems like thine.
        Thank you so much for the lovely lines.

        Liked by 3 people

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