Placebo Town (revisited)


Is Love
just another
four letter word
given a death sentence?

Is the weight of Hate
greater than a feather?
With Anubis guarding
a mythical entrance
to a heavenly existence?
You’ll need to travel light
if you wish to transcend
beyond the broken ground
of this forsaken Placebo Town

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’s apprentice
holding the lever
Your least debt
feeding the much richer
For heaven’s sake
there ain’t no winning
this Monopoly game
The Big Shake Down
is played for keeps
in Placebo Town

As for “Me” . . .
me in the East
under that age old yoke
of some new priest
spreading the sacrament
of a religious virus
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 privileged 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 soon a-comin’
to Placebo Town

Is this existence
a swirling vortex
of which I must make sense?
Am I
all living a pretence
at truth’s expense?
Living and dying just inches
from a sure gate in the fence?

Are we colour
living in contrast?
Or black and white
out of focus?
Just a biological blast
projected onto
some future past?

Am I
True Blue?
Am I to be
well and truly set free
to live in the presence?
Dwelling forever within
the heart and soul
of holy mindfulness?
Providence with a love purpose?
I’m on a divine promise
The Word given
In name
in deed
and in person
The one who
inspires my pen
Who is faithful and true
Honestly… apparently
a loving spoonful of truth
is the right recipe
With integrity
like a hot shot
of espresso coffee
Am I just decaf?
A cold cup of chai latte?
Having been plucked
roasted and ground down
in that infernal place
called Placebo Town

The Lover of beauty
seeking perfection
Finding mercy
in the all knowing
Master Craftsman of Creation
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 righteous answer
always searching
the altitude of gracious latitude
as all hell
with brakes broken
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 sign of a wonder
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
An alpha predator
climbing from the crater
of wordly power
Just another scavenger
with his pants on fire
is the master’s apprentice
from the golden tower
A silver tongue preaching
to the “Rat Race Choir”
as the All Star Evangelical
guns for hire
strut the catwalk
of a Dog Eat Dog Empire
Where the trained to heel
practised in the art
of the crooked deal
are “Keepin’ it real!”
The cold and the hard
with a frozen smile
given an inch
will take a mile
It’s always peak hour
on the dirty boulevard
of Placebo Town

The Faithkeeper
keeping faith with
the one and only Great Spirit
And with just
an ethereal mantle for cover
upon a wing and a prayer
is prepared
for an evil visitation
A celestial battle
with a skyclad Wayshower
of borrowed power
and under the spell of delusion
Channeling nothing more
than the deepest regret
The mere glimmer
of a haunted shiver
Paper lanterns are being lit
against a twister
deep in the nocturnal hour
Those seekers
upon paths that glitter
in the darkness of night
yet skulk under cover
and flee from the light
bring only the litter
from a spiritual gutter
A subterranean burial mound
There can only ever be
one true path
for the heavenly winner
nirvana bound
in this the final round
As lines of division
are being drawn
on barren ground
with the charred bones
exhumed from the tombs
of Placebo Town

Where might makes right
as the neighbourhood bully
has his very own police force
and military
Where there’s a scarcity
of veracity
Where mercy has gone missing
Yet grace freely taken
but seldom given
by the heirs and graces
of the unforgiving
with their minions of corruption
and industrialised destruction
Where truer words
never are spoken
Where oppression is the weapon
Where loving kindness
is a weakness
Where deception is the poison
malicious and religious
Both domestic and foreign
Where souls are downtrodden
bartered and broken
by the vicious victorious
Yet the stone free
of fomo faux rebellion
running hungry
like angry young Warhols
are couch surfing
with Lady Liberty
in the confusion
of a hollow delusion
called Democracy
Where mystery
is the secret
that mysteriously
keeps raking in money
Like celebrities lecturing
the political correction
Or else overdosing
on the armchair of moralists
ceaselessly trolling
Geriatric politicians
are cashing in
whilst sniffing back a tear
smelling the fear
of a millennial generation
lost in the maze
of online
brand name advertising
Tuning in to the diatribes
of broken pride
from a fallen tribe
taking bids on the side
for the body and soul
of the eternal child bride
In a graveyard breeze
the questions left hanging
As the blind will guide
the gullible 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 funktious
all dwelling
in the cellar
of Placebo Town

The Seafarer
seeking truth
Does all plain sailing
make you a plain sailor?

“A sea journey …
to the heart of darkness!
What could be better?”

Best be prepared
to be boarded and searched
by Captain Alpha Omega
the interstellar traveller
from escalator
to service elevator
on a mission … with permission
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 without a sound
that fashionable plug 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
just as death so demands
honesty in absolute 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 will Come!

The Dinki Di
bursting out from behind
the shadow in your eye
As dark energy
switches back on the lights
from way on high
and dark matter
with glory … reignites
The concealed revealed
Amazing is the grace
as the curtain comes down
on a cold 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 tower
in the distance
deep within your conscience
longing to give you shelter
With a door
that’s ever open
for the truly fair dinkum
Before you’ve shot
that final viral load
check out the road less taken
out from a petri dish of desolation
When all said and done
look to the Son
Ashes to diamond
His Kingdom Come!

The Believer true
with integrity
you just can’t drill through
The criminal environmental
upon a supernatural mind renewal
Debris free
and out from the putrid puddle
of a mystical puzzle
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
A true revolution
Sensual and blissful
the intimate sensation
of celestial happiness
Just beginning
Endless loving the promise
All 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
A battle yet to win
Motivation service
to the Lord of all Creation
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 appreciation of what
an unexpected tomorrow may bring
from the heavens on down
As the crow flies
and the angels sing
severing the last
remaining string
Healing the sting
of that zero ground
called Placebo Town

~ by David B. Redpath © 2018-2020





David B. Redpath © 2018-2020

581 thoughts on “Placebo Town (revisited)”

  1. the storyteller in the alcohol
    who generates poetry
    about improbable things
    a town full of deathbeds
    the army stops fighting
    and returns
    to hold the hands
    of loved ones
    no pity in the poorhouse
    they ask to sleep outside

    Liked by 1 person

    1. pitfalls inherent in the life of a poet
      further sinning chuckles at roadblocks
      religious doubt cannot contain itself
      the laws of the Torah
      Adam and Eve
      exhausted puppets
      behind the theater
      proof that one commandment violation
      equals the violation of them all

      Liked by 1 person

      1. “What I am saying is that as long as the
        heir is a child, he is no different from a
        slave, although he owns the whole estate.
        He is subject to guardians and trustees
        until the time set by his father. So also,
        when we were children, we were in slavery
        under the basic principles of the world.
        But when the time had fully come, God
        sent his Son, born of a woman, born under
        law, to redeem those under law, that we
        might receive the full rights of sons.
        Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit
        of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who
        calls out, “Abba … Father.”
        So you are no longer a slave, but a son;
        and since you are a son, God has made
        you also an heir.”

        “So, my brothers, you also died to the law
        through the body of Christ, that you might
        belong to another, to him who was raised
        from the dead, in order that we might bear
        fruit to God.
        For when we were controlled by the sinful
        nature, the sinful passions aroused by the
        law were at work in our bodies, so that we
        bore fruit for death.
        But now, by dying to what once bound us,
        we have been released from the law so
        that we serve in the new way of the Spirit,
        & not in the old way of the written code.”

        ~ Paul, the Apostle


    2. the embryos of Placebo Town
      are all dead on arrival
      with little chance of revival
      then placed head down
      in the skip bin of human history
      after a brief mention
      in the obituary section
      of the Placebo Town Library


      1. children from the religious sector of Placebo Town
        fill the bins with water and swim in the filth
        “It’s not the Hawaiian Islands, it’s the Placebo Bins.”


    1. I’ll lift up my arms
      to the starry skies
      And pray the fugitive’s prayer
      I’m guessing tomorrow
      the sun will rise
      I hope the final judgment’s fair
      The battle is over up in the hills
      And the mist is closing in
      Look at me, with all of my spoils
      What did I ever win?
      Gotta brand new suit
      and a brand new wife
      I can live on rice and beans
      Some people never worked a day
      in their life
      They don’t know what work
      even means
      Meet me at the bottom,
      don’t lag behind
      Bring me my boots and shoes
      You can hang back
      or fight your best on the front line
      Sing a little bit
      of these workingman’s blues

      ~ Bob Dylan


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