Yes, don’t mess
with the Missionary Man
The best he can
he’s getting on
oven cooking
with that missionary plan
As little Miss Multiverse
awaits at the far end
of the Pearly Gates
where dark matter is hiding
Like aspic in jelly
astral trawling
the heavy duty gravity
of some opioid addiction
Wading in gooey brown gravy
from dowtown New York
to the Rings of Saturn
A swirling black hole
coming into view
Lordy, what will you do?!
That plastic galactic baby
wholly and solely
waiting just for you
Take a deep breath
if you can
and don’t distress
I think it best
you go confess
to that Missionary Man
Living a life bland
sinking quickly into sand
Or to get up off your knees
and seize the grand plan
A door marked ‘Evermore’
beckoning and ajar
Is it the Destructor
or the Greater Creator
holding the floor
with a solemn whisper?
True love …
it can redeem the soul
It can cool the fool
caught in a summer swelter
It can purge the urge
fraught with danger
Love from above
can make you whole
It can sweeten the bitter
Even pay back in full
that black hole toll
Yes, don’t mess
with the Missionary Man
The best he can
he’s getting on
oven cooking
with that missionary plan
Life is a mystery
Death is over easy
In the big scheme of things
through the agony
and the ecstasy
I hope you understand
Words & PhotoArt
~ david redpath © 2018
An almost hypnotic lyric – fits the theme perfectly.
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Thanks Chris.
I could have been in a trance?
I can’t quite remember.
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I missed this one till now. Glad I found it. Dunno why but that word “evermore” just struck me. Felt abit eerie. We don’t often use that word but it conveys such a lot
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‘Evermore’, also a great New Zealand band.
Tis true … You Tube ‘Light Surrounding You’.
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Ooh I will look them up. Loved the poem
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I do understand and I won’t mess with him. I confess, you’re a genius.
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Bojana, I too have a confession.
I was channeling the Eurythmics.
I think I must have
an Annie Lennox obsession!?
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Oh I know, David.
Your secret’s out for those who didn’t recognize it.
I love that song, like pretty much everything Annie did.
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Who am I to disagree?
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Sweet Dreams, Basilike.
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Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell. These are the contents of my head.
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As Carl Jung once said …
“Who looks outside, dreams.
Who looks inside, awakens”.
I likes my martini dreams
straight up, stirred, but not shaken.
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Are you having a martini now?
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It’s midnight here in the cuckoo nest,
so Nurse Ratched let me have one.
… But, Basilike, don’t tell anyone.
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My lips are sealed!
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Basilike, the graceful grecian,
I’m not ashamed to admit
I was groping in the woodshed
. . . for inspiration.
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I like the graceful grecian compliment very much! And I am flattered that you groped in the woodshed.
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I love this David! I need to cool the fool and purge the urge
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Thanks Walt.
It’s a collective consciousness thing
( I think?), for those of conscience.
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Aye, i agree!
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Striking words. I like how you paint the hands of life, total picture style, making it into missionary man. Cooking. I really like a specific paragraph. Hold on, I’ll extract next. Ps: awesome picture. My type of universe.
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Thanks Luiza.
So glad you liked it.
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To live a bland life or to seize the grand plan…door to Evermore?! 👌i
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That is the essence of the poem for me.
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Thanks in the extremity, Luiza.
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Wonderful, David.
I love how you tie in theories in astrophysics with astral traveling on a drug trip.
I’ve always thought taking drugs is one of the way demons can enter the mind. (Sorcery in koine Greek = Pharmakeia from which we get our English word pharmacy).
And demons can probably travel the galaxy.
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Yes, as psychologists, and
criminal defence lawyers,
keep coming up with labels
of ‘disorder’ to explain it away.
I think the wider universe is crystal clear.
The perverse seems to be
all earth bound, along with
the rest of us.
That’s perhaps why Elon Musk
longs to get away!?
And yes Chris, the Pharmakeia industry has
a lot to answer for.
Just ask Lot’s wife.
‘Mother’s Little Helper’,
turned her life into a pillar
of sedated strife.
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wow.. This is cool.. Picturesque!
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Glad you like it, Surya.
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