Placebo Town (revisited)

20170807_142259_hdr-02-01-01-01-01-01-02-01-01-01-02-01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01-192528508.jpeg

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
Awake!
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
You
We
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
Me
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
Recreation
Revelation
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

20170807_142935-01-03-01-01-01-01-011599128311.jpeg

20170807_142259_hdr-01-01-01-1637370923.jpeg

20170807_143928-01-011316346052.jpeg

20170807_142623-01-01-1146409870.jpeg

Photography:
David B. Redpath © 2018-2020

581 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

      Reply

      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

  10. 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.
    Peter

    Liked by 4 people

    Reply

  13. Cheers: v. few people have put it just like that aha- or perhaps you are an uncommonly good writer? -cheers for the follow, means alot- publishing a new poem today: check it out

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    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

      Reply

      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

  16. Placebos here and there
    One for you and for me
    I’ll take the highest milligrams
    Effect in a medication nation
    I have a gas mask just like yours
    I use it to sift through landfills for plastic junk I threw away last week
    But are we all to blame for all the leaders from now to the beginning
    And religion and love and hate and politics do they all mate
    Placebo poppers unite
    it’s all an illusion right?
    I’ve said it before… this is great!
    Love though you know is the answer

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Stella, your poetic comment is most worthy
      of a quote from Rock ‘n’ Roll’s Poet Laureate.

      “Love is all there is,
      it makes the world go ’round
      Love and only love, it can’t be denied
      No matter what you think about it
      You just won’t be able to do without it
      Take a tip from one who’s tried.”
      ~ Bob Dylan (I threw it all away) 😎

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  17. Let’s think about it🤔
    Is love the cause of everything
    Is love at the root of heartbreak
    Is it the reason for war
    For the love of religion
    For the love of country
    For the love of self
    For the love of money
    There for is it the root of all evil?!?
    Woah that might of went too far.
    Whatchu think?

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  18. Amazing David. Felt like an epic commentary on the human condition and on the question of who are we and what is love.
    Beautiful and so thought provoking 💜💜💜💋

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. It’s a dirty job, Rosaliene …
      but someone has gotta do it 😎
      Perhaps I’m just a fool
      for hope, faith, and love?
      But I wouldn’t be without it, sister.
      And … as they say,
      God looks after fools & lovers,
      with the power to express it.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  21. Placebo Town…reminds me of the news, this evening. One-hundred and four arrested in Broward County, FL, with enough drugs on them to kill everyone in the entire county. Things like that make me scratch my head. If there wasn’t a demand for drugs, there wouldn’t be a supply of drugs. There are a LOT of very unhappy people on this planet.

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

    1. Prohibition itself creates demand
      Tree of The Knowledge syndrome
      Conformity meets rebellion
      where castles are built on shifting sand
      Nothing new under the Sun
      Just a new bag of tricks
      Teen spirit on the run
      Privileged pockets full of consumer goods
      Broken hearts and empty souls
      . . . seeking a fix

      Like

      Reply

      1. Heartbreaking. I’ve always said that all drugs should be legalized (like booze). If they want it, regulate it. But, the C1A likes the drugs illegal. They make money and the s*** rolls downhill. Prescriptions? Keep them high priced, too. More black markets spring up. What a racket…

        Liked by 1 person

      2. The Pharmaceutical Industry behaves
        like modern day priests of Sorcery
        in their pursuit of profitability.

        “You got gangsters in power
        and lawbreakers making rules …
        You got innocent men in jail,
        your insane asylums are filled
        You got unrighteous doctors
        dealing drugs that’ll never cure your ills.”

        ~ Bob Dylan (When You Gonna Wake Up?)

        Like

      1. You’re poetry has been a valuable reading journey! Your eyes have seen, your heart has felt, your soul absorbs, and your mind shares it all with the world! Bless your heart! May ❤️&☀️ always walk with you and yours!

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I can dig that David! 😀 “Faith in divine love.” Wow that’s just beautiful.Yesss! The “Church of Acceptance” where we can all delve into “The book of Life”. 🤗 Wonderful writing! Have a great week!

        Liked by 1 person

  31. Good Lord, David!!! You are so brilliantly relentless it’s crazy. I say this often but Your words are so visceral. My entire body responds. Crazy. Heart pounding. Lump in throat. Verge of tears. You’ve may well have thought of this and Y’all may have already done it….but WOW. Your words and Y’alls photography/art would make an amazing performance art piece. Y’all could take people on an amazing journey. Every level. Seriously cool. Thank You so much for sharing. Walking away heart still pounding brain still spinning dizzily…..💕

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you very much, Katy 🙏
      I appreciate you sharing that response.
      I guess I did compress a long night’s journey
      of the soul into a handful of verses.
      Creativity, whether visual or written, sung
      or spoken, can be a doorway to the spiritual.
      I’m just grateful to have spiralled through this life long enough to reflect some small
      glimmer of inspiration, refracted & redacted.
      Even politically corrected 🤔
      I have done painting/poetry performance art
      but it tends to get a bit messy.
      (Acrylic … as it washes out of clothing 😎)
      But photo projections would be a lot neater.

      (btw; ‘Performance’ is my favourite
      Mick Jagger movie. If you haven’t seen
      it yet, I highly recommend it Katy).

      Like

      Reply

      1. I LOVE the rhythm of Your words and that they insist we ride along! Like a strong wind picking up a leaf. It’s amazing! Yeah…..I was thinking about multi-media…….but loosely linear….a trip….a living piece of art….projections the entire height of the space on all sides. Spoken words. Music. There are so many of You who better watch out if I win the lottery! I’ve had a vision for a world theatre piece buzzing around my heart/soul for about 25 years now….and if my material fortune ever comes to such a place….there are a few of You out there in blogland I will invite to play!!! 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      1. Lol thank you

        I was just talking to a friend who’s going through a hard time. And we were beginning to settle on the knowledge that life happens and it’s how your roll with it that eases that pains, we’re all just being human beings. Love shouldn’t be painful, leave it open ended and unrestricted and you’ll see. 🙂

        Lovely poem and pictures

        Liked by 1 person

  33. I remember when you first posted this excellent poem, David.
    The pharmakeia output in the world seems to have even increased since then.
    Of course the pills to keep one in the Matrix are all real.
    While the pills to take one out of the Matrix are all placebo.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Yes Chris, the Industry of American Sorcery
      has prospered mightily since the banning of
      Mother Nature’s medicinal herb garden.
      The Machine of Greed scorched the sky
      to keep us all in the dark. May Morpheus
      with the help of Neo, and the divinely lovely
      Trinity, succeed in waking us all up to 🙏

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  34. Dear David, an amazing piece, you’ve reduced me to tears with your words. You’ve hit every corner hard; the truth is not for the faint of heart. I absolutely adore your “I” statement, “. . . I’ve still a way to go / till I get to the sea . . .” One day I’m headed home to The Sea of Galilee. Please enjoy the rest of you week. ~ Mia

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  38. PLACEBO TOWN

    truck drivers often speak of Placebo Town
    a location where one never slows down
    Baby, if you breakdown near the city limits
    you get on the phone
    and pray a brother
    will rescue you

    as destiny unfolds
    the whole becomes
    separate acts
    stage monkeys
    unfolding

    the repetition-compulsion prose
    the text of death poems
    the text of romance
    footprints made of letters
    directions hidden
    by the beautiful lie

    a freedom from slavery
    an escape from corruption
    an exit from flesh

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. There’s a truck stop
      out on the main line
      where the highway
      and railroad meet
      I go there all of the time
      It’s a favourite haunt
      for grifters on the run
      A terminal for some
      waiting for a greyhound
      that will never come
      The law don’t go there
      Not after the setting sun
      when the diner is closed
      and the deal goes down
      No one ever dares question
      the king of Placebo Town

      Like

      Reply

    1. Yes, Chris. Things could alway
      be worse than running 🏃 out
      of toilet paper 🚽 You could
      have Uncle Ernie trying to take
      your temperature ☝️ on the
      Chinese border whilst fleeing
      a holiday camp for Uyghurs 🤔

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  40. WOW! Ok. Now my heart is racing and I’m wide awake. Who needs caffeine when You and Your passion are around?!! Wonderful to read this again. You are so brilliantly relentless. Thank You!!! 🤗🌀🙏🏼

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thanks 🙏 with much appreciation
      for taking the return excursion 🙈
      to the dark side 🌚 of post-modern
      existentialism 🤔
      And, I trust Katy, you had some
      Pink Floyd playing 🎶 to enhance
      the occasion 💎👁️💃🍄🎸🍏🦄

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  41. crazy thoughts standing on the edge of the grave
    having lived a life of refinement and depravity
    to write about PLACEBO TOWN
    as if it were a scuba suit
    one could never remove

    everyone knows that snakes shed their skin
    the same is true of humans at the Gate
    museum workers number them
    and store them for the future
    no one knows why

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. “My snake skin belt
      holds my pants up.
      Yet I regret the fate
      of that poor snake 🐍
      … but it was either
      him or me …
      for modesty sake.
      Same goes for
      the nice crocodile 🐊
      who made my wallet.
      and gives me a smile
      when I count my money 🤑
      So don’t forget, honey 🍯
      I’m an overfed
      overweight desperado
      full of lamentable regret.
      When I’m done,
      and I’ve died,
      the Maestro of Placebo
      can tan my hide,
      and use it as a tent.”

      ~Auntie Ernesto

      Like

      Reply

    1. The War Memorials
      of Placebo Town
      scrape the the red sky
      from a hole in the ground
      Where doves cry
      you can hear the sound
      of the Universal Soldier
      whispering
      of the deal going down

      Like

      Reply

  43. Placebo Town

    an enormous number of adults
    get up early to alarm clocks
    travel great distances
    to increase hardship
    on the poor

    a higher understanding of the meaning of life
    shared understandings in the tribe
    the code of conduct deluxe
    Jesus first never last

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Jeffrey Smart, the master
      of geometric stillness, was the
      architect of the Placebo Town
      overpass, using viral isolation
      as his compass.
      Once across that overpass,
      beyond Placebo’s sinking sand,
      it was up to your conscience
      wherever to turn left, or right,
      for the ride of your life. And
      then make a grand final stand.
      The escapees fleeing the
      peak hour of Placebo Town
      find sanctuary, now immune
      to that alarming clock sound.
      Free to be … and stand upon
      the rock of ages, secure
      on solid ground.

      Like

      Reply

  44. Placebo Town
    once students master the rudiments
    they refuse to continue their education
    often sidetracked into alcohol and drugs

    medicinal
    THC so strong
    one prays their sight returns
    THC so strong
    the car is impossible to navigate

    medicinal material stolen
    black market Placebo Town
    glorious top shelf, top dollar
    “a reasonable price” unknown

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Cheap at half the price!
      Whilst bottom feeding
      the fleeting top shelf,
      Where I learnt
      the slow mo glow fandango
      glued to a lysergic light show
      driving that hunger
      from way down below
      Popeye would spinach me
      Then Brutus came to finish me
      but Olive Oyl held out a branch
      to rescue me
      It was such a looney tune
      played on a silver spoon
      down a rabbit hole
      with Bugs Bunny
      taking a heavy toll
      Out of body
      and on the soul

      Like

      Reply

  45. How do you always manage to blow me away?
    Every time, it’s like some magic so fey
    It’s like we’re all navigating the same cosmic way
    And you, a fabulous helium ray.
    Love, love, from abalone blossoms in space.
    And thanks for the star,
    that brought me here
    to this page. 🌟💫☀️🌻💛

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Like dark energy water lilies riding
      the gravitational waves of cosmic
      conciousness … I have no idea 💮🤔
      But it’s nice to be there ♾️ I’m glad
      you made the return trip without the
      need of some poetic decompression,
      Nadine 🌊 😎 💙 And thanks for
      blowin’ in the wind of my poem 🙏

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. Welllll, it’s a beautiful mystery to me.🌷🌀 But one that is *less* beautiful to me, is why on earth your posts *still* don’t show up in my feed… (insert frownpout)… I do check back here regularly but I miss some days, knowing you don’t post daily… (how can one, with masterpieces like this??)…so sometimes it takes a star to bring me near from far. 🌟And then I’m sooo glad, to be where you and your poetry, are.
        🙏😎🙏☀️🙏💛🙏😍

        Liked by 1 person

      2. WordPress does move in mysterious
        way. With wonders, and blunders, to
        perform … on a social media platform.
        Thanks for persevering, Nadine 🙏
        and for your positive feedback 🌈 🦋
        It is greatly appreciated 💖

        Liked by 1 person

  46. Placebo Town
    when it comes to purchasing
    everyone has their story
    peculiar behavior considered genius
    the Rabbi and his family
    they consume the government stuff
    and sell the black market bomb
    an ounce goes for a small sedan
    fairly safe
    everyone passes the bong
    smoking with momma and poppa
    the Rabbi proud of his domain
    a beard measured by the foot

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Well, the neighborhood bully,
      he’s just one man
      His enemies say he’s on their land
      They got him outnumbered
      about a million to one
      He got no place to escape to,
      no place to run
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      The neighborhood bully
      he just lives to survive
      He’s criticized and condemned
      just for being alive
      He’s not supposed to fight back,
      he’s supposed to have thick skin
      He’s supposed to lay down and die
      when his door is kicked in
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      The neighborhood bully
      been driven out of every land
      He’s wandered the earth an exiled man
      Seen his family scattered,
      his people hounded and torn
      He’s always on trial for just being born
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      Well, when he knocked out a lynch mob,
      he was criticized
      Old women condemned him,
      said he should apologize
      Then he destroyed a bomb factory,
      nobody was glad
      The bombs were meant for him.
      He was supposed to feel bad
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      Well, the chances are against it,
      and the odds are slim
      That he’ll live by the rules
      that the world makes for him
      ‘Cause there’s a noose at his neck
      and a gun at his back
      And a license to kill him
      is given out to every maniac
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      Well, he got no allies
      to really speak of
      What he gets he must pay for,
      he don’t get it out of love
      He buys obsolete weapons
      and he won’t be denied
      But no one sends flesh and blood
      to fight by his side
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      Well, he’s surrounded by pacifists
      who all want peace
      They pray for it nightly
      that the bloodshed will cease
      Now, they wouldn’t hurt a fly.
      To hurt one they would weep
      They lay and they wait
      for this bully to fall asleep
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      Every empire
      that’s enslaved him is gone
      Egypt and Rome,
      even the great Babylon
      He’s made a garden of paradise
      in the desert sand
      In bed with nobody,
      under no one’s command
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      Now his holiest books
      have been trampled upon
      No contract that he signed
      was worth that what it was written on
      He took the crumbs of the world
      and he turned it into wealth
      Took sickness and disease
      and he turned it into health
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      What’s anybody indebted to him for?
      Nothing, they say.
      He just likes to cause war
      Pride and prejudice
      and superstition indeed
      They wait for this bully
      like a dog waits for feed
      He’s the neighborhood bully.

      What has he done
      to wear so many scars?
      Does he change the course of rivers?
      Does he pollute the moon and stars?
      Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill
      Running out the clock, time standing still
      Neighborhood bully.

      ~ Bob Dylan
      ( … on a good day 😎)

      Like

      Reply

  47. Well worth re-visiting, David. This time around I was put in mind of the Heaven’s Gate cult which wound up leading its members too destruction. There are so many counterfeit religions out there. Yet all the while a relationship w/ the only just and holy God is waiting.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Yes indeed, Anna. In a search for
      secret mystical knowledge (“You
      too can be gods and goddesses!”)
      the simple truth is overlooked, or
      becomes a despised stumbling
      block for those who wise in their
      own eyes.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  48. Placebo Town
    if you google “Placebo Town”
    a private investigator will arrive at your door
    endless questions about things
    that you know nothing about
    7 reasons your brother buys books
    that he will never read
    mirror images of living hell
    the up-a-above
    the down-below
    any distinction at all ?
    in Placebo Town
    no one can steal your free will
    but it can be reduced

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. According to Team America,
      in Placebo Town
      freedom ain’t free.
      It costs a buck a day
      for the cryogenic chamber
      where they stuck Lady Liberty
      As long as my smart phone
      keeps telling me
      that I’ve been a good citizen
      and a productive drone
      they won’t send me
      to Placebo Town prison
      And the OxyContin
      they prescribe me
      keeps me a happy hillbilly
      without a frown
      So, no complaints from me
      about the Great and Powerful
      Facilitator of Placebo Town

      Like

      Reply

  49. That was one crazy and entertaining read. Placebo Town is a brilliant name for many of the towns and cities we, in the west, Europe, Australia and a few other places live in.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

      4. Played in three-quarter time
        by the Armies of Salvation
        on their green tambourines.
        Asking the eternal question,
        “Brother, can you spare a dime?”
        Right next to the all seeing
        ATM of borrowed time.
        The clock at Central Station
        is running down …
        for there’s a slow train a-comin’
        to Placebo Town.

        Liked by 1 person

  50. Placebo Town
    paganism replaced
    ceased in time
    the poet afraid
    of what to come
    violence exerted
    never enough
    #1. educated people immediately replaced
    paganism in Placebo Town
    #2. the replacement was temporary
    #3. the poet was born afraid
    any grounding in reality was short-lived
    friendship with enemies in training
    #4. the constant supply of violence
    everything the soul regrets

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. The birds they sang
      At the break of day
      Start again
      I heard them say
      Don’t dwell on what
      has passed away
      Or what is yet to be
      Ah, the wars they will
      be fought again
      The holy dove
      She will be caught again
      Bought and sold
      and bought again
      The dove is never free
      We asked for signs
      The signs were sent
      The birth betrayed
      The marriage spent
      Yeah the widowhood
      Of every government
      Signs for all to see
      I can’t run no more
      with that lawless crowd
      While the killers in high places
      Ssay their prayers out loud
      But they’ve summoned,
      they’ve summoned up
      a thundercloud
      And they’re going to hear from me
      You can add up the parts
      But you won’t have the sum
      You can strike up the march
      There is no drum
      Every heart, every heart
      To love will come
      But like a refugee
      Ring the bells that still can ring
      Forget your perfect offering
      There is a crack,
      a crack in everything
      That’s how the light gets in

      ~ Leonard Cohen

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

    2. Plácido Domingo
      has a long way to go
      before the music
      will once again flow
      He was forced
      to apologise
      to Lucy in the skies
      for playing Pagiliacci
      the lecherous clown
      down in old Placebo Town

      Like

      Reply

Leave a reply to loujen haxm'Yor Cancel reply