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
Photography:
David B. Redpath © 2018-2020
David Redpath 
sometimes the automobiles
seemed to be occupied
by giant eyeballs
as the autos drifted by
large eyes peered out the windows
Jim Morrison exaggerated the experience
addicted to drink, drug, demon
exaggeration was effortless
disfigurement was common in
Placebo Town
constant prattle about the disease
some crazy tribe eating bats (?)
as if consuming horrid creatures
was contrary
to their essential nature
Sunday service
good Christians seated
by zoological classification
nuisance value could place one
in the very back row
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The back row
where no news is fake
and conspiracies are all true
How much more
can a wicked witch take
when only a Placebo will do
Dorothy in the red dress
arising
from the Tin Man’s embrace
clicks her high heels
and chants
in a casting couch trance
“There’s no place like home!”
Jim Morrison
forever pointing a bone
at the Storm Riders
of the Twilight Zone
Reverberations
of a flaming incantation
echoes through the streets
of Placebo Town
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the back row in church
has dung like the rim trail
at the Grand Canyon
a topic not often discussed
one runs into strangers
and they act very sheepish
they were up to something
but only God knows what
uninhibited religious exhibitionism (?)
nudity
with a focused faith
above questioning
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Finding Christ
is not the end of the search
It is just the beginning
for those who are earnestly seeking
Sitting in the front row
doesn’t make you a saint
Going to church
doesn’t make you a Christian
The only problem
I have with church
is they let all those humans in
Each and everyone
a scuzzball covered in sin
But looking through eyes
that are not own
I can see the saint within
Christ took it all to the cross
at great cost
so that we might win
There is no place for guilt
in a forgiven state
of true clear blue freedom
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watching all those young people
walk off stage
tears in my eyes
having lived and died a thousand times
the bruises, the backstabs
a familiar voice
the baby late at night
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the number one priest
becomes a bereaved tightrope walker
the sermon comes from the battlefield
every Sunday is Easter
except for Christmas
every Sunday is death
and resurrection
church members
washing their hands
wizardry in one room
craftiness in the other
the youngest child
nude, transparently nude
words from the Old Testament
handwritten on both legs
strange molecules from a Dali painting
leaking from an odorous opening
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The heavy burden of State Religion.
Tribal taboos must be enforced
for the herd to successfully keep
on breeding. The rock spiders need
nice ceremonial frocks to be seen in.
Hand your children over to the
Little Sisters of Domination, and the
Celibate Brothers of Flagellation for
fun and an educational. The big trick
is to smear the good news of Jesus
Christ with so much crap that you’d
rather side with Satan.
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the big trick is to pull back the layers of Christ
until he is white with long flowing hair
a beautiful hippie from 1966
don’t get me wrong
a superstar with a message
caught up in the moment
in the shadows the audience
applauds his final scene
I cry each and every time
knowing full well
that backstage
he is vibrant
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Once
whilst minding
my own business
drowning in lost innocence
I was asked
by a voice that wasn’t there
what I thought
of Jesus Christ
All I could think to say
was of all the men
who had gone before
and ever since
this Jesus
was simply the best
The voice
seemed to acquiescence
as if I’d made a good choice
with a blissful silence
the likes of which
I had never experienced
My life . . .
of the ever perilous
hasn’t been the same since
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the dreams are back
sailors pushing horses
off the deck
the most beautiful one
saved for supper
some readers think about hungry fish
ones with hardcore teeth
others with no teeth at all
————–porpoises
circle the ship cursing the sailors
“dirt on two legs”
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something bigger than sodomites on a boat
bigger than sailors forcing horses into the water
bigger than their deaths, slow or fast
bigger than the color red
poets write about unopened life
that special birthday
when masturbatory overtones
hit the stage like a marching band
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……………………. Michael
I must make a confession
I have in my possession
a rather prestigious
basketball card collection
If Michael Jordan
Shaquille O’Neal
or Majic Johnson
succumb to the Corona Virus
I stand make a fortune 💵
I will become
the succubus of misfortune
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a succubus of misfortune
in a world of zombies
next thing you know
you’ll be wearing $700 socks
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I’m wearing Mick’s
$700 space cotton sock
as we speak
But not on my feet like Jagger
They make a great face mask
And now I can rob Starbucks
with a swagger so anonymous
The police don’t even ask
as I take a deep breath
safe from the Stoner Virus
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infamous Starbucks crime
drive-up window robbery
3 fancy brews and a bagel
they only take plastic
cash is dirty
I must say,
“they were caught unawares”
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poetry workshop circled the wagons
around a lesbian relationship
they started the prose
with trouser talk
the more masculine party
would be in farm-grade denim
smoking Winston cigarettes
with the filter ripped off
employed doing menial labor
having a “tallboy” at lunch
ready to become unglued
at any second
————I excused myself
trigger points of ignorance
detour signs that lead one
to an unhealthy frame of mind
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she was a perfect physical likeness of Barbie
down to the tight-fitting underpants
he had free reign to the outside
but never below the surface
he died a virgin
and only one
other knew
——(+)——
he was never shy walking about erect
his boy part with a large opening
unseeing and non-thinking
what was God thinking
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cooing……clucking
the boy poet of made-up words
people always ask about bodily contact
why do they want to know ?
relatives and friends of the
misunderstood boy
visualize him
nude
upside down
his public persona
never his honest self
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she said that he was expressing his love
through the filling-up of her inner self
her privates, a cornucopia of pleasure
he, ever fearful of the fruit ripening
and falling away
ever fearful
something evermore
about to be
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occasional sex to break up the monologue
the narrator grows quiet to watch
they say that self-disclosure
is the final chapter
of the author
OVERGROWN ADOLESCENT IMMATURITY
how many volumes can the library maintain ?
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the private self of the poet
how many layers deep ?
Priscilla moved to Placebo Town
after the King
signed his last signature
yes, Priscilla on a diet
of cabbage water and diet pills
educated people called them amphetamines
first class mood regulators
Presley motivators
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Priscilla was the pleasure-garden of Elvis
the tabloids headlined
“THEY DID IT ONCE”
Elvis feared any trespass of the divine
step not willy-nilly
in the tracks of the past
everywhere one looks
the bones of Adam and Eve
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When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.
~ John F. Kennedy
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Placebo Town
we went outside today
and washed the leaves of the trees
fearing the worst
I cried all day
thinking about the suffering
going on around me
those at the crossing
wave and whisper my name
I know to keep my mouth shut
this is my world
I stand alone
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Placebo Town
strangers from another town
stopped and said “hello”
each person carried a religious flashlight
and I felt completely safe
they spoke of Adam and Eve
and I told them of my part
lovingly,
they questioned not my words
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poets speak of the gradual tempering of the mind
from journeying in dream-corridors
resistant souls have suffered the chafe
and fear the worn footholds
perhaps, a damaged toe
from an earlier trespass
perhaps, learned fear from a Biblical quote
an Old Testament mouthful of backhand
(always approaching HEAVEN but never arriving)
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I was expelled
from the poetry club
for my homework
was always handed in late
and covered
in somebody else’s blood
My cute little haikus
would never do
Lacked any real bite
So right or wrong
or more wrong than right
I set sail for ancient Babylon
There to be taken captive
by a Persian hookah pipe
who belly danced
me totally unconscious
the whole night long
But in the morning
she’d be sweetly singing
a song of old Zion
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In rolling dreams
I’m sacked by the Stones
for mainlining more drugs
than even Keith Richards
And that’s saying something!
Only to be found face own
in a cloud with a silver lining
But when the time came
to pour down as spring rain
I was struck by a bolt
of Valhalla’s white lightening
Reborn as white heat
just in time for a white wedding
to a Mexican honky tonk woman
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the containment of Placebo Town
young people ignorant of the Hebraic God
make collages of Elton John
placing him in historic situations
Elton John as the womb that conceived Jesus
Elton John as the breasts that Jesus suckled
poor little Elton John
not knowing how to identify himself
his own isolate selfhood
his limitations and detours
his annoyance of life
they say that he spent a week
at the Tower of Babel base camp
waking up each morning
before the purgatorial stairs
knowing full well
that his genitals
had to be
removed
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In Placebo Town
where the Name Game
is insidious
the sick and the lame
grasp for their one shot at fame
by claiming
to know someone famous
Where Sid Vicious
is the patron saint
of the recklessly homeless
It’s where my older sister
went to dinner with Cat Stevens
Soon after he turned to Allah
And my sister
ever mischievous
became deeply mysterious
Sir Ivan Morrison once or twice
stayed at my best friend’s house
As a young child
quiet as a mouse
I watched him drink
and smoke himself
into unconsciousness
My young friend Chris
a barista of excellence
with immaculate dress sense
would shave his legs
and don his latest gown
whenever Elton John
was on tour in Placebo Town
Now all he talks about
is when he was Elton’s toy boy
and his favourite performing clown
But he never mentions
being passed over
for that new kid in town
Chris now only exists
in his stories
of being passed around
From the Tower of Babel
If you put your ear to the ground
you can hear a sinister laughter
A most unearthly guttural sound
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Placebo Town
RE: one claim to fame
my one shot at fame is my last name
SALT and PEPPER
fame finds itself hiding
in the village of containment
the Hebraic God
is foreseeing and deep-seeing
(He forces shadows to shower and shave daily)
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Placebo Town Cable TV:
(+) Young adult straight sex
(+) Young adult gay sex
(+) Senior citizen straight sex
(+) Senior citizen gay sex
(+) Elton John rub-a-dub-got-no-junk sex
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Oh, a germ is threatening
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away
Cor Ona, it’s just a cough away
It’s just a cough away
Cor Ona, it’s just a sneeze away
It’s just a sneeze away
Ooh, see the virus sweepin’
Our very streets today
Spreads like Eee – bola
A black plague is on its way
Cor Ona, it’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
Cor ona, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
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Nostradamus knew
the big question to the answer
No sleight of hand fake fakir
No psychic impersonator
But a real deal prognosticator
A messianic jew
who looked beyond
this world’s earthly squalor
Back when a black plague
was all the rage
And killing wasn’t murder
if done with chivalrous valour
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inappropriate relationships in central Placebo Town
not just a shoebox of penitent posture
an entire room of shame
Lee Harvey Oswald
alive and living
a hero of sorts
a well-known personality
on every TV station washing his hands
the very same man who measures wind speed on Mars
the detour from death as simple as water on the hands
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Elvis has left the building
Face down
in a stretch limousine
And taken to the Jungle Room
Deep inside Placebo Town
As his waistline had stretched
All the way to the edge
Of Cheese Burger Oblivion
But his rolling soul
Forever checked out
Of the Heartbreak Hotel
Is now rocking in Graceland
People have said
Many an unkind thing
But I’m not one of them
After all said and done
He was the Jail House King …
“Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Dreadful old windbag!
And I think somebody should point
out that his so-called “illustrious
career” – he never, not once, wrote
a single song.”
~ Johnny Rotten
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late at night
when the clouds are sad
every voice will praise ELVIS
after the Fall
limitations became commonplace
Elvis clad in schoolboy pants
a contraction of pleasure
not the opposite
a withdrawal
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Another Sunday afternoon
in Petri Dish suburbia
Elvis impersonators
with Weinstein fingers
begging for respirators
Nostril investigators
fight for the right to party
in bow ties and short pants
Fully loaded pocket calculators
their right to life done to death
occupying the commonplace
Preying on the daddy issues
of a teen scream
magazine romance
Just another Sunday afternoon
in Petri Dish suburbia
Nothing is ever left to chance
by the Lords of Chaos
in a cyber viral culture
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on television they label Placebo Town as “The Petri Dish of America”
we have placed great demands on this virus
not wanting some lazy common flu bug
something that violates all religions
watch “Tiger King” or go to church
yes, you too can be jailed
Beware brothers and sisters
the Law of the Land will bar
you from your Worship House
they will arrest your loving leader
insult you and yours in public
even generate violence
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Just another petri dish
in the viral aftermath
Where the mooing herd
moos
and then moves on
A new generation comes
The old ones make room
by shuffling along
Schools, truck stops,
and pool halls,
that were once closed
slowly reopen
But there’s a new sheriff
in Placebo Town
and he’s not messing around
He’s come to fix
that which
has always been broken
As he points to the sky
saying, “The Tower of Babel
needs rebuilding. For Nimrod,
the Great, has spoken.”
In that instant
the bell at the stock exchange
begins ringing
The Stars and Stripes
in the sky is flying
The Tabernacle Choir
starts singing
to fireworks exploding
Meanwhile
at the Placebo Town
mausoleum
the bodies are mounting
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my neighbors are busy
having their pubic hair
groomed
what if one went to the ER
and there was a gray hair ?
if we are in the final lateness
when will we see the angelic attendants ?
(demons in the backroom with powerful microscopes)
plasma therapy is the soup of the day
ask yourself about the open circle
are you willing to take a seat ?
nurtured in mother tongue
the words from the other side
the very words
that turn prose into poetry
the very words
never found in Robert Frost
the very words
posted “EXIT NO RETURN”
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Sitting with T. S. Eliot,
in a Busboys & Poets restaurant,
wondering what the fuss is about?
Ambulances were whizzing past
with sirens wailing,
and lights flashing.
Over a loudspeaker
a voice was blaring,
“For God and Country,
we must keep up appearances!
As well as keeping your distance
from anyone resembling a virus.”
T. S. had to shout to be heard
with two metres between us.
He then said …
“Where shall the Word be found,
where will the Word resound?
Not here.
There is not enough silence.”
Just then,
Robert Frost walked past,
quiet as a mouse.
We invited him in for coffee.
But he just laughed, saying,
“You wouldn’t catch me dead,
in a Washington Busboys & Poets,
drinking anything but malt whisky!”
Since it was 9.30 in the morning
I just replied, that for me,
it was far too early.
At that, T. S. Eliot slammed down
his fist screaming, “How dare you!
How on earth do you write poetry?!”
As quiet as a ghost, Robert Frost
took off for a road not taken.
To escape the sirens, the screaming,
and that covid-19, if I’m not mistaken.
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Placebo Town
dialogue at a pace (rust away)
according to Freud, everything is a translation
he who could see the habitual self without a magnifier
he who made his employment observing face value reality
think how charming it would be to ride the train to Placebo Town Station
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Placebo Metro
is deep underground
The escalators go up
the elevators go down
The workers go to work
and back home again
earplugs in
screens on
with hardly a sound
A sign above
the Metro entrance
Live To Work
Work To Live
The mantra of a hive
in a zombie trance
Today’s greeting
“May you survive the virus.
And have a nice day.”
as they go on their way,
“May the Placebo bless.”
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IN A 1000 MALE RESTROOMS ACROSS THE STATES
“May the Placebo bless”
may the Placebo bless you and yours
high-performance 24/7
making footsteps around the venue
buds named after “Syd”
funny, one Elvis and one Syd
Elvis sprayed the tonsils of lucky fans
Syd hid from the world and played with no one
now they sell buds labeled as “Syd”
smoke them and you want to be alone
touch yourself like no one else
touch yourself where no one goes
give yourself a special name
tell no one but yourself
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Romeo and Juliet
now wish
they’d never met
after heading down
to Placebo Town
Sid Vicious
the punk bass guitarist
a vexatious nuisance
and fateful Nancy
of the lacerated wrist
took Romeo and Juliet’s
thorny crown
and plugged it for breakfast
Not all junkies
are like a setting sun
More a slow motion
placebo implosion
awaiting the detonation
of a vainglorious spark
in the utter outer dark
Something is always
Johnny Rotten
in the state of Denmark
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Elvis wears earplugs as he’s getting head
in a zombie trance he daydreams about his mother
Gladys knew all his flaws
the surface illusion of normalcy
it was no secret
that she had a warm friendly hand
being a male made him vulnerable
a man has to bust a nut
“Momma, I’m gonna blow”
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LIVE TO WORK
WORK TO LIVE
the first sign inside the Heavenly Gates
workers work and angels sing
stud angels run errands
Elvis has a giant home
but he’s never there
Elvis has a daughter
but she married wrong
now she’s in debt
can you imagine her fright
the first time
she found a nose
on her pillow ?
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In Placebo Town
sooner or later
to get what you’re after
you’ll need to deal
with the boss
Michael Jackson
cut off his nose
to spite Diana Ross
Then bleached his skin
to fit right in
with Elizabeth Taylor
But never with his penis
Michael’s wayward member
that independently
achieved celebrity status
Even Lisa Marie
couldn’t keep up
the show biz pretence
Poor little rich girl
Lisa Marie Presley
playing happy family
whilst he stalked
and groomed
all over a star struck nation
She never had any children
to Michael Jackson
But the King of Pop had plenty
on her behalf
behind locked & secured doors
at that outfitted for purpose
Neverland Ranch
Now the pajama party is over
a guilty game of Never Tell
there’s one thing I know for certain
Michael Jackson will burn in hell
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cooked in Placebo Town
so easy to leave the poverty behind
might be harsh to confront the truth so directly
Freud (FREUD) or what one takes to be the truth
————bang your drums like Charlie in the Stones
constant dreams about the mother of beauty
chatter on the phone about the mother
the mother of beauty
a form of death
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Placebo Town (oxymoronic)
look out the window
poets climbing purgatorial stairs
smells like the circus on a summer night
Robert Frost pronounces words from a page
merely minimal prose, a repetition of romance
suicide by love
karma consequences
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EVEN MORE HELPLESS
MORE DEPENDENT
STUCK UP PEOPLE
“it is all about me”
———Placebo Town
“it is all about me”
life-negative effects
how long can you hold on ?
I talk to Picasso, he’s grown fat
he says, “to hell with the caretaker state”
I like Picasso, he thinks people have gone nuts
some new virus rides into town, babies poop their pants
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you know
when Keith leans on Mick’s shoulder
he’s thinking about some warm wet thing
some warm wet thing with a one track mind
—-The Rolling Stones played in Placebo Town
people outside the prevailing authoritarian social order
found the concert tickets to be really “jackass crazy expensive”
Placebo Town:
criminals on the left
schizophrenics on the right
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you know
when Keith leans on Mick’s shoulder
he’s only thinking about one thing
those damn expensive socks
every boy in Placebo Town
dreams of owning a pair
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Placebo Town…
A dystopian melting pot
A hamburger with the lot
The karma drama department
of a cosmic lost & found
Quarantine is my only
constructive suggestion
Where segregation
is used as a means
of soul destruction
For the rich, and the poor,
banging on the exit door,
Mick gives his final absolution
… “I can’t get no satisfaction.”
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When you are inducted
into the Fine Arts Academy
in Barcelona, they first
give you choice between
this world, the next world,
and Placebo Town.
Pablo chose all three.
The instructors just thought
that he was extremely greedy.
Salvador couldn’t decide,
and wanted more.
Eventually he was expelled,
being a bit on the wild side,
and shown the door.
Real Academia de Bellas Artes
de San Fernando, was no placebo.
But only the super real deal
would ever, and forever, do
for the Hallucinogenic Toreador.
Leaving Pablo to his cubes,
those African surgical masks,
and many a willing whore.
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you know
that they say
Mr. Gates has a drawer full
of those magnificent space socks
( he wears one on his dong before bed )
a Muddy Waters tune, “what’s on your dong tonight ?”
one only hopes for both
impulsive/sociopathic behavior
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down there in Placebo Town
impulsive/sociopathic behavior
you want a woman who knows her mind
knows every man is strangely wrong
you want a woman that will lie
call you a man and not a boy
think how charming it will be
to smoke a cigarette on the way out of town
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You may not lie
with the 14th Dalai Lama
like you would with a waitress
or a truck driver
He practices holiness
and it would be
very bad for your karma
My older sister
once tried it on
with the 13th Dalai Lama
but she struck out
Now thirteen
is her unlucky number
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Bill can buy a thrill
on Blueberry Hill
But a sock from Mick
would be way to thick
for even
the Gates Foundation
to ever fill
Hard, or Microsoft 😎
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micro-soft
getting more difficult to locate
dated a lot of girls from under the bridge
took off one bra, huge watermelons
only to find detail maps of Ohio
a shame when you have to ask her
to put the thing back on
Placebo Town was complete
wealthy up above
poverty in the flood plain
the frog-town girls knew
the 4 letter word for sex
incest was an indoor sport
children with weird features
too few fingers
too many toes
odd hair texture
like cattle from
way up north
kissing girls with green teeth
kissing guys with tobacco wads
sodomy was available
if one could take
the smell
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Mick Jagger
being a known carrier
of the Hysteria-19 Virus
has a symbiotic relationship
with Bill Gates
His foundation
has poured millions
into finding a vaccine
so that nineteen year old girls
would no longer succumb
and be erogenously
struck dumb
whenever old rubber lips
sticks out his reptilian tongue
But Melinda
keeps telling Bill
not to bother
As she remembers
what it’s like to be young
and hysterically infectious
Meanwhile
Mick has been put on the list
of endangered species
for being reckless
and wearing those
$700 space cotton socks
Melinda has now
only the memories
of Mick Jagger
spreading the hysteria
all the way to her ovaries
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intimidating just standing nude
meth was the catalyst
lab made blow
hands on the tube
it went around the room
old-timers said that it made them average
each one under a cloud of crime, shame galore
the demise of the family structure allowed one to pursue Satan
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WIDE-EYED IN PLACEBO TOWN
kissing guys coated in tobacco
no one was gay or straight
just a bunch of tough cookies
who took it up the behind
crusty underwear
was a crime
the one indispensable element
a monkey who could think up a plot
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fingering your girlfriend after lunch
sniffing de’ fingers later in class
it was enough to damage any brain
create lawlessness in your pants
lock the door
roll up the sleeves
make like an earthquake
delivering your signature semen
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prisoners being released
so they can educate those
who have lost their way
where do the educated go ?
picking tomatoes in Georgia
cutting sugar cane near the big lake
the religious swing between extremes
taught to mistrust intimacy
they love with their fists
making war with their dongs
infantilizing unlucky partners
$5 and you can discover your original trauma
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when the doctor asked me about my original trauma
I told him, “it was rock and roll”
drugs and the Beatles
and no where to go
Placebo Town
wasn’t on the map
later on
I wrote Gladys Presley
told her that I could lend a hand
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Placebo Town
WANTED: a ready-made rationale to avoid
individual responsibility
Jesus in a world of molecules
no limit to the soul pulled apart
the library glossary stands blank
I saw your name several times
inside and outside the framework
it was you—I saw your face
Jesus refused to talk
about the toll
that wrong thinking
takes
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Placebo Town Exodus
Fleeing
the weaving
A stench
of self righteousness
In between
the molecules
the weeping
and gnashing of teeth
2000 light years from home
Everything
from Nothing
Atoms pulsating
Substance is belief
A rolling stone
gathering the moss
of Love
Hope
and Faith
The material
The surreal
No satisfaction
I can’t get no relief
from the mainframe
of loss and gain
pain and grief
that’s running wild
on a broken algorithm
Where a grand narcissist
is the commander and chief
So, I fled Placebo Town
pleaded guilty
to a life of crime
and changed my allegiance
Jesus Christ
the not so meek and mild
he’ll be back soon
Time is brief
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time is brief
sitting on concrete for 20+ years
the ass becomes the texture of sandpaper
pages from a Robert Frost primer for sale
prison guards profit from the black market
easy to curse them, the underground exchange
Momma sends me funds that go for chips and soda
Momma sends me funds that go for a slow tight poke
don’t think I don’t think about Priscilla Beaulieu
like a living twin to Elvis I think about that girl
a condom-like thing to prevent any leakage
flesh colored with a hint of rose water
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easy to comment on Robert Frost
in literature he’s like an Anti-Keith Richards
a NYC phone book of seasonal crap
borrowed thoughts and words purchased
enthusiastic readers wanting autumn colors
willing to endure his silent anonymous farts
permanently numb, he blamed the school system
permanently numb, he blamed his sodomite rape
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Placebo Town
poets willing to pay
for emotional reciprocity
compromise but not too extreme
the doctor calls my friends, “sycophants”
I have no idea what that means
I tell myself that a lot of dead people
would still be living
if they had my troop
the needed words of praise
shouldn’t come from a tombstone
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State Religion
Military Precision
Tribal taboos enshrined
Blessed be the warrior monks
Marching onwards to the tune
Of the All Consuming Machine
Welcome Johnny Soldier
To the Temple of Your Doom
Coming soon
Old Superstition
New Age Broom
If you don’t fit in
With the current coven
Or the certified Ashram
If you don’t replicate
The Caliphate
The Parent – Teacher Association
And the Holy Economy
Will seal your fate
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The iron hand
it ain’t no match
for the iron rod
The strongest wall
will crumble and fall
to a mighty God
For all those who have eyes
and all those who have ears
It is only He
who can reduce me to tears
Don’t you cry
and don’t you die
and don’t you burn
Like a thief in the night,
he’ll replace wrong with right
When he returns.
Truth is an arrow
and the gate is narrow
that is passes through
He unreleased His power
at an unknown hour
that no one knew
How long can I listen to
the lies of prejudice ?
How long can I stay drunk on fear
out in the wilderness ?
Can I cast it aside,
all this loyalty and this pride ?
Will I ever learn
that there’ll be no peace,
that the war won’t cease
Until He returns ?
Surrender your crown
on this blood-stained ground,
take off your mask
He sees your deeds,
He knows your needs
even before you ask
How long can you falsely
and deny what is real ?
How long can you hate yourself
for the weakness you conceal ?
Of every earthly plan
that be known to man,
He is unconcerned
He’s got plans of his own
to set up His throne
When He returns
~ Bob Dylan
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life happens
whether or not
it is honestly welcomed
wads of cash exchanged
no consideration of the consequences
almost no consideration of the consequences
circus drugs purchased on the street
wealthy chaps can do so much better
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drugs that silence the voices
yes, never sad or lonely
guardian angels
cementing inspiration and isolation
half-brothers and half-sisters
down by the barn
with the moon
reflected
in their
eyes
between neediness and fulfillment
God-given drugs bridging the gap
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My drug of choice
filed for divorce
Yes, I was unfaithful
but that was no excuse
Those first twenty years
were the happiest of my life
Some called it incestuous
and obscene
when I married
my dear sweet
Sister Morphine
and made her my wife
Now, to kill the pain
I sleep with a pill
named Temazepam
But nothing
will ever be the same
I need another hit
to take away
this crying shame
~ Hypo Marx
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“There will be a twin year(2020)
from which will arise a queen (corona–Spanish for crown) who
will come from the East(China)
and who will spread a plague
(virus) in the darkness of night”
~Nostradamus
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Amigo Mr. Redpath, did you make that up, or is that really from Nostradamus? Went to see his birth house in France last year:) Much love to you!!
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True quote, Gypsy 👌
Nostradamus’ style was to be just
vague enough that you wouldn’t
know what his predictions meant
untill they came and went. He had
to write his future visions that way
as prognostication was illegal back
then. The punishment was death ☠️
Plus it’s better not to know too much
… Just ask the US President 😎
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ahahahaha
BIG chuckle!
Love that last line my fellow rebell one!😎
Very interesting information, thank you!!
Love Nostradamus. Such a cool seer and wild one! Sending warm hugs querido! xoxoxo
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I foretell that Big Data Brother
will not buy what I sell, so what
the hell! Stay safe, Gypsy ❤️
I trust all will be well 🤞😎
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Hahaha exactly! What the hell!! You know…
maybe its time for old structures to break,
and new ones to emerge… transformation
is the station that crisis doesn´t dare to call
itself… caterpillar stage before butterfly one…
Nostradamus told me so 🙂
Stay safe, too! I care lots about ya! ❤️
Eres un tesoro amigo. I trust in the divine plan, too. We can´t see far enough yet… Besos!
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It’s something that many just
can’t understand 🤔
Divine Love is the grand plan 💛
“Well the woman I love
she got a hook in her nose
Her eye brows meet
she wears second hand clothes
She speaks with a stutter
and walks with a hop
I don’t know why I love her
but I just can’t stop.
You know I love her yeah I love her
I’m in love with the ugliest girl in the world.
If I ever lose her I will go insane
I go half crazy when she calls my name
When she says ‘ba-ba ba-ba baby I love you’
There ain’t nothing in the world
I wouldn’t do.
You know I love her yeah I love her
I’m in love with the ugliest girl in the world.
The woman that I love she got two flat feet
Her knees knock together
walking down the street
She cracks her knuckles
and she snores in bed
She ain’t much to look at
but like I said:
You know I love her Yeah I love her
I’m in love with the ugliest girl in the world.
I don’t mean to say she got nothing going
She got a weird sense of humor
that is all her own
When I got low she sets on my feet
Got a five inch smile
but her breath is sweet.
You know I love her Yeah I love her
I’m in love with the ugliest girl in the world.
Well the woman I love
she got a hook in her nose
Her eye brows meet
she wears second hand clothes
She speaks with a stutter
and walks with a hop
I don’t know why I love her
but I just can’t stop.
You know I love her Yeah I love her
I’m in love with the ugliest girl in the world.”
~ Bob Dylan 😎
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Yes, I agree wholeheartedly with you dear! Only (true/divine) love is real…on the deepest level. Thank you for embodying and transmitting that knowing! It shines through… it´s good to remind each other of that… thank you! 💛 And gracias tambien pro infecting me with…the Bob Dylan love! haha 🙂 Mucho amor para ti, siempre! 💛💛💛😎 You rock
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THERE IS A GIANT DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD OF SPECIALNESS
THAT HANGS OVER PLACEBO TOWN
most people don’t pay it no mind
they just go on eating and sleeping
and watching one another
some day someone will experience something special
I think it is written in the library Bible
in the zombie world
amidst death and abandonment
where parents poisoned their children
and church members strong-armed the law
well, Mick and the boys
they didn’t pay it no mind
one city after another
but never Placebo Town
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It is written
upon the sacred pages
of Teen Fan Magazine
the Glitter Twins
were left as orphans
on the steps of
The Muddy Waters Boys Home
for Hysterical Delinquents
Conveniently located
on the wrong side of the tracks
Just another Placebo Town
hard luck story
But the shocking truth is
both Mick Jagger
and Keith Richards
were nurtured in a loving family
Placebo Town is a state of mind
whether or not
you’ve ever been there
I know this to be true
since the twins that glitter
wrote me a very nice letter . . .
When your spine is cracking
and your hands, they shake
Heart is bursting
and your butt’s gonna break
Woman’s cussing,
you can hear her scream
Feel like murder in the first degree
Ain’t nobody slowing down
no way
Everybody’s stepping
on their accelerator
Don’t matter where you are
Everybody’s gonna need
a ventilator
When you’re trapped
and circled
with no second chances
Code of living
is your gun in hand
Can’t be browed by beating,
can’t be cowed by words
Messed by cheating,
ain’t gonna ever learn
Everybody walking ’round
Everybody trying to step
on their Creator
Don’t matter where you are,
everybody, everybody gonna
need some kind of ventilator,
some kind of ventilator
Come down and get it
What you gonna do about it,
what you gonna do?
What you gonna do about it,
what you gonna do?
Gonna fight it, gonna fight it
~ Best Wishes
Mick Jagger & Keith Richards 💋
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uniqueness was in short supply at the Placebo Poetry Workshop
creativity hidden from the law, creativity behind black curtains
postcards of external girl parts painted by Norman Rockwell
ominous places, foam collecting on irregular edges
psychological flaps, a number of them
eroticized images converted to words
cognitive participation in the pink
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Being British
L. S. Lowry
the People’s Artist
(he painted people)
kept his naughty little secrets
hidden under the mattress
where his dominating mother
would never find them
She being bedridden
and handicapped
He reluctantly
gave me a glimpse at them
one night in Lancashire
after imbibing much white rum
Little girl Dominatrixes
all constricted and laced up
in tight black leather
I think perhaps
that dear old Laurence
really did love his mother
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Placebo Town
at some point in time
all children are forced outdoors
never to enter their parent’s home again
predators and raging rivers whisper their names
when you pulled over and turned off the engine
your mind was airing out the needs of others
questioning the particular needs of others
at some point in time
you realized that the people
in your colorful day-to-day
are either, excitant or percipient
mother hen with chicks
mommy canopy so protective
superficial reality beating a drum
they tried to color you in with crayons
they tried to rob you of your pregenital thrills
“Lord have mercy child you’re a regular James Brown”
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Above and beyond
the surface water
of Placebo Town
I feel good
Lord knows why I should
This dirty cesspool
is no place to drown
Where Neo the Nazi
that Matrix nasty
surveils your data
and writes it all down
Google, Facebook, and Amazon,
will inherit the dirt
of Landfill Earth
At childbirth
Siri makes a screaming sound
Natural Love
Unnatural Life
False Freedom
True illusion
All there to be found
when the shit hits the fan
where the virus hits ground
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sometimes I ask myself,
“am I a ghost ?”
or is it just some type of respect ?
or is it the end-product of extreme laziness ?
I walk enormous distances
terrible neighborhoods at midnight
I walk through locked doors
encountering frowns
and broken bones
poverty sniffs around my steps
no matter where I go
homeless people constantly upset
about manmade distribution
unequal by design
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Placebo Town houses
the grand server Meta Data Oasis.
Meta Osis to it’s cyber friends.
Everyone else it keeps under
close surveillance.
George Bernard Shaw told me once
the quintessence of placebo survival
is to be the renaissance you’re
looking for in someone else. To find
the joy in all the vast and varied manifestations of life. In deformity,
as well as beauty. In the rude and
roaring brutalities hardly less than
the lofty poetry.
Perhaps even evil reveals it’s
last secret to the man who flashes
upon it, momentarily, the divine
light of humour.
Bernard then asked me, most
emphatically, to not call on him again.
And to stop calling him George.
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sometimes I ask myself, “am I a ghost ?”
having drank cemetery water my whole life
having had to pack and unpack ghosts
I get asked to turn the lights off
but never on
yes, that’s me walking the husband
never alone with the eternal mother
too fragile they say
I share her with a thousand others
each and every one a movie star
I live in a world
where men are cut
the same as women
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sometimes I ask myself,
“am I a vicious criminal ?”
invasive flashes of guilt
all those hungry
for the simplest kindness
standing outside the porch light
why do I not ask them to step forward ?
(wearing a pair of stolen khakis in Placebo Town)
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The taste of Placebo Town
is like khaki quinine
mixed with methamphetamine
You can savour that flavour
on any street corner
where all the streets
have one name
SHAME
Where the police
all ask the same question
“Are you game?”
Where agents provocateur
working for the lawyers of religion
will put you in the frame
Where the Rolling Stones
wrote the Placebo National Anthem
Yet Keith and Mick
are always claiming
that they are not to blame . . .
Hear the screams from Center 42
Loud enough to bust your brains out
The opposition’s tongue is cut in two
Keep off the streets
’cause you’re in danger
One hundred thousand disparos
Lost in the jails in South America
Curl up baby
Curl up tight
Curl up baby
Keep it all out of sight
Undercover
Undercover of the night
The sex police are out there on the streets
Make sure the past laws are not broken
The race militia has got itchy fingers
All the way from New York back to Africa
Curl up baby
Keep it all out of sight
Curl up baby
Sleep with all out of sight
Keep it all out of sight
Undercover of the night
All the young men they’ve rounded up
Sent to camps back in the jungle
And people whisper, people double-talk
At once their fathers act so humble
All the young girls they have got the blues
They’re heading on back to Center 42
Keep it undercover
Keep it out of sight
Keep it undercover
Keep it out of sight
Undercover of the night
Down in the bars,
the girls are painted blue
Done up in lace, done up in rubber
The john’s are jerky little G.I. Joe’s
On R&R from Cuba and Russia
The smell of sex
The smell of suicide
All these things I just can’t keep inside
~ Keith Richards /Mick Jagger
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Charlie was passing out trigger words
the smell of sex
the smell of suicide
Picasso and the production of milk
addled, disoriented,…comatose
nihilism adopted in the Placebo Prison
Bruce Springsteen naked
urine soaked sidewalks
neon reflected in the puddles
senior citizens reporting cars on the prowl
otherworldly whackos gray with age
burglary tools for genitals
PLACEBO TOWN
the nuggets of Bruce Springsteen
how many poets are brave enough to go there ?
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Charlie Zoro
has been red flagged
by Special Agent Orange
for not living
by the Placebo Town Motto
Work Will Set You Free
If not today
perhaps tomorrow
Born in Placebo Town
is a rock anthem of sorrow
Yet the captive audience
the refugees from down south
even the Three Amigos
all love the sound
of Sweet Home Placebo
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Charlie can visit Placebo Town
but not reside there
he is neither excitant or percipient
he is a baby bird
innocent
he has a halo that he wears in private
Bless his heart !!!
the library has some new DVDs you can check out:
Orgastic Gratification
Sadistic and Masochistic Impulses
Pharmaceutical Happiness
Appeals to God in 2020
I watched the Appeals to God DVD
it stressed that one shouldn’t censor their thoughts
when communicating with God
God has an interest in vulgarity, perversity, and ugliness
anything cinema, theater, bedroom
remember, God not only paved the road
he was the first one to travel it
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In righteousness you
will be established:
Tyranny will be far from you;
you will have nothing to fear.
Terror will be far removed;
it will not come near you.
If anyone does attack you,
it will not be my doing;
whoever attacks you
will surrender to you.
“See, it is I who created the blacksmith
who fans the coals into flame
and forges a weapon fit for its work.
And it is I who have created the destroyer
to wreak havoc;
no weapon forged against you will prevail,
and you will refute every tongue
that accuses you.
This is the heritage of the servants
of the Lord, and this is their vindication
from me,” declares the Lord.
~ Isaiah
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Elvis stopped by this morning to visit
he had me rub my finger over his teeth
he said that should the lights fail
or I should go blind
I’ll be able to recognize him
by his teeth
———–this seemed strange
I tried to explain to him
about Zappa and Captain Beefheart
but he paid no mind
just miserable noise to him
“ain’t got nothing to do with rock and roll”
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Some punk clown
from Placebo Town
went beserkergang
when Captain Cheeseburger
brought the King of Rock down
Saying, “I’m glad he’s dead!
His big fat gut cast a shadow
over Rock ‘n’ Roll for too long.”
The Unarmed Neuters soon
turned those words into a song
A thrash metal hit
No wonder that
the heir apparent
the King of Pop
ended up believing
what’s wrong is right
and what’s right is wrong
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motels in Placebo Town don’t furnish pillows
the happy pillow brought from home
becomes the happier future
of a painful night
(who could rest their head on a motel pillow ?)
scientists often measure the restlessness
found in contemporary motels
deeper understandings are in demand
marital tension between warring extremes
daily dissatisfactions multiplied
God only knows what lives on the toilet seat
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
the first thing she did
was position the mattresses
so we didn’t have to walk on the carpet
her silk bedroll
made by silkworms
(matured in outer space)
was a perfect fit on the box springs
she warned me that she was going
to use the shower as a commode
I had no idea why
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Caped crusaders
Crime fighters in tights
Pillow biters of the night
All keep their identities secret
The Placebo Town
Mother’s Association
Is out for a fight
Meanwhile
At the Bates Motel
Mother Psycho
Is in for a fright
As Charlie Zero
Books in for the night
Packing a dictionary
And a pair of sharp scissors
He’s travelling light
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the guys on the football team
question the value
of a suitcase full of dictionaries
“I like my dictionary passive and feminine”
ornamental details—words with no definition
words that start and stop unexpectedly
letters that don’t belong
dime a dozen at the truck stop
a backdrop of eternal bliss
$2 for a shower
8 quarters
a collection of thoughts
the smell of a small engine
regardless of length
the story goes on
dictionary seeds
weddings of stray letters
Babylonian sodomy percolated
to a strong dose of brown
the first cup on the honeymoon night
to glorify the ordinary
why does he not learn ?
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the odd things average people do
Babylonian Sodomy
————WHY———-
is it like a large truck (semi) out of control
going down a steep grade at full speed
with no brakes or hope of slowing down (?)
the poet pushes the accelerator pedal to the floor
“PROSPECTIVE NEVER RETROSPECTIVE”
no matter how many times I tell myself
I find myself polishing yesterday
the Beatles, the drugs
like an animal
sex outdoors
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Babylonian Sodomy
a threshold to be penetrated
the region often ignored
where all future efforts
are to be directed
at the Placebo Town Library
one may gain access
to a backroom
lined with
books
on
“How to Survive Sodomy”
“Landscaping with a Mirror”
“To Bleach or not to Bleach”
“What if it all goes Wrong ?”
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the numbers of people dying
being broadcasted daily
people walking about
on borrowed time
reality being
a spectrum of deficits
obese on poverty a dozen times
(poets on a strict dictionary diet)
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ostracized by the holy citizens of Placebo Town
the dictionary people moved to the west coast
constantly producing cut-up poetry
with visions of the Apocalypse
and tidbits of science fiction
sadly never feral
five and dime
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Dapper Dan
and his rapid breeder
the Barefaced Pretender
claimed sanctuary
as Placebo Town Royalty
But Prince Larry
and the Stilettoed Contessa
were excommunicated
and then banished
to some bodega
north of the border
after Larry’s mother
the Feudal Queen
of Germanic Inbreeding
gave them both
the right royal finger🖕
The poor defrocked Contessa
then sold
her self entitled soul
as a Hollywood ho
and a privileged influencer
on social media
Prince Larry is just happy
being a stay at home dad
and doing the gardening
He’s famous for his gladioli
and hydroponic marijuana
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Placebo Town
is where the deal
first went down
But from above
or below the ground
no trace of Eden’s garden
can ever be found
As that fall from grace
inverted time and space
and paradise was lost
at the speed of sound
leaving nothing
but a pile of waste
Even in the darkness
the Spirit of future past
the Alpha Omega Man
reaches out to the present
from first to last
Yet ever respecting
your personal space
Jesus waits to be invited
into the open heart
With love that is pure
and truth that is scarce
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citizens of Placebo Town are often confused
thinking the movie, “The African Queen”
is based on Noah and his Ark
Humphrey Bogart playing
the role of Noah
Noah was often mute
more than a paragraph
of rigidly compelling language
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the local librarian was not pleased
with the art of cutting up dictionaries
poets were in need of a unique sense of self
any aligning with dead junkies was a true mistake
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I’ve been asked repeatedly
to join the Dead Junkies Society
But the fees were exorbitant
and it demands your total loyalty
Being free form
with just a dictionary
to keep me warm
and my allegiances all torn
I decided it just wasn’t me
So now I’m free to see
the prose in creation
Not to slave over
the homework of desperation
to submit before
the Placebo Town congregation
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I’m not really into musicals.
But I did catch that Placebo Town
remake, ‘The Adventures of Noah,
Queen of the Desert’ starring Russell
Crowe. With a score composed by
Judas Priest, and orchestrated by
Black Sabbath, it was bound to be
a big hit. But the screenplay, by
Anton LaVey, really did stray far
from the original source material.
So I gave it a rotten tomato 🍅 👎
Especially after being subjected
to the woeful singing of Russell
Crowe 🙉 I’d had quite enough of
his caterwauling in the big screen
production of ‘Les Misérables’ 😱
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TO SUBMIT BEFORE
THE PLACEBO TOWN CONGREGATION
was it going to be hymns
or hillbilly tunes ?
your signature on the membership card
the top half of yourself dressed in satin
I can’t argue that the lower parts
were naked in a mischievous way
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The Placebo Grand Ole Opry
held in the old dance hall
on the outskirts of town
where kept on display
are all the gold plated idols
With dualing show tunes at high noon
Hillbillies plucking banjos to the tune
of Jim Morrison howling at the moon
Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire
dancing the Placebo Fandango
to the tortured squeals
of Harvey Weinstein
being garroted by Plácido Domingo
Crocodile Dundee sings with Katy Perry
“Baby, you’ve really got me
by the growling dingos 🎶”
Followed by a final performance
of Michael Flatley’s riverdance
as the tearful audience
bid a fond farewell
to Amy Winehouse
as she takes Jimi Hendrix
in a love embrace
on the staircase that leads
to the Placebo Town Big House
The old Gypsy Queen
just smirks
With every roll of the dice
and with every turn of the cards
the Tarot sets the price
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good seats to the final performance
of Flatley’s Riverdance
can be had at a discount
every other Friday
is “ladies only” night
this an opportunity
to see male parts bounce
sometimes strange things happened
but regulars pretended to not notice
in the big city
sex appeal is often emanated
from dancer androgyny
but in Placebo Town
the golden fleece is scary
males are split-off
from much of their identity
overloaded with substitutions
for legitimate suffering
early stages of life
a lifestyle prison
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Placebo Town on the south side
automobile junk yards
and childhoods
spent meeting the needs of others
where the sparkling waters of adolescence
have turned stagnant and identity sour
poets that strive for total independence
often find themselves
knee-deep in total dependence
guilty of overreaction
guilty of underreaction
South Side Placebo Town
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My passport, as I last exited
Placebo Town, was stamped…
“Let your gentleness be evident to all.
The Lord is near. Do not be anxious
about anything, but in every situation,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God. And the
peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts
and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever
is true, whatever is noble, whatever is
right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is
excellent or praiseworthy—think about
such things.”
With that the Customs Man said, with
a frown, “Now scram! And don’t let me
catch you ever again hanging around
this God forsaken Placebo Town.”
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Jesus
name an opportunity
where Jesus observed
proper “growing up” behavior
emotional starvation ?
translating early styles of coping
into a language that resembles a weapon
outward appearances suggest a degree of control
nasty people on the other side of the street nervous
24 hour observation
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It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, and
everything that is illuminated becomes
a light. This is why it is said:
“Wake up, sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”
~ Paul of Tarsus
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words found in a shoebox
Placebo City
floating up there in the clouds
giving up selfhood
a nameless one among many
having left behind the dong
and the top-shelf virility
one would think it painful to leave the body
but it was just a serious cough
and the wetsuit was gone
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puberty in Placebo Town
where did one invent
the multiple and interchangeable
objects of male desire ?
30 minutes of fun with a penknife slit
later in life you saw the scene in a film
and it was kind of creepy
life reduced to the skin
prodigious
it was
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words found in a shoebox
Placebo Town
thinking back on all the birthdays
that you begged for a television
and then you got a part-time job
and after six months
you saved up enough
to purchase a TV
and then you discovered
that your life story
was being broadcast
on every channel
the movie stars
the exotic travel
Mick in $700 socks
there was dark stuff also
paper cuts in the worst of locations
girl friends beyond their shelf life
relatives and the exchange of cash
vitamins that turned out to be addictive
and frowned upon by Johnny Law
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A glory box
Full of humble things
A mirror of gravity
The backfire of slavery
Through the static
Of endless poverty
A warning bell rings
In the teacup of hope
A toxic future shock
Where a tempest is brewing
No Ninja Tortoise
Full of mutant purpose
Can turn back the clock
Of a Chinese virus
The Woodstock Walrus
Truly knows this
For he has already asked
As he coughs his last
A burnt out Boomer
Saving his best blast
Till last
Thunder be the bliss
Of a wandering drifter
Resigned to his fate
The seafaring albatross
Speaking karmic justice
For all lovers of hate
And all those
Ghosts of the past
Crusaders
Invaders
Rapists
And cut-throats
All a Caliphate too late
A pox on all their houses
With a baptism chemical
The heavens forsake
Goldilocks the starburst
Arises from Hades portal
A glory box surplus
More than any mere mortal
Would ever dare take
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FACES in Placebo Town
the primary referent of identity
no one ever speaks of the side of town
that enforces the de-sexualization of women
no praise or prose for the deeds of the beast
participant observers guilty of nature
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(the teacher leaves the room)
voices say,”Eve was too good to press her feet into the soil
of Eden. No flower perfect enough.”
In isolation Eve suffered
God and Adam were the enemy
men folk with the earth to play
PLACEBO TOWN :
bad seeds germinating
every two seconds
a new temptation
sentimentality stretched out
in a honeymoon pose
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This town
is coming like a ghost town
All the clubs
have been closed down
This place
is coming like a ghost town
Bands won’t play no more
Too much fighting
on the dance floor
Do you remember
the good old days
before the ghost town?
We danced and sang,
and the music played
in a de boomtown
This town
is coming like a ghost town
Why must the youth
fight against themselves?
Government leaving
the youth on the shelf
This place
is coming like a ghost town
No job to be found in this country
Can’t go on no more
The people getting angry
This town is coming
like a ghost town
~ Jerry Dammers, The Specials
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PLACEBO TOWN
30 minutes of fun with a penknife slit
millions of hours in reruns
sometimes 3 times a day
thick skin and a strong arm
Adam was the first
night visions and waking dreams
poetic genius in the dong head
the single most memorable address
(self-address to keep the kernels fresh)
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Placebo Town
the last city before Hades
the first city out of Hades
difficult to leave
difficult to stay
kisses that seal the lips together
the soul and the burning lake
when people first enter
they constantly ask the time
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Placebo Town
a time-space continuum
the Tower of Babel no great distance
if measured in hours
ask yourself about folklore
about your personal observation
where there was no doubt
that you were dirty
just look at your hands
layers of dried blood
everyone you’ve ever known
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The All Seeing Eye of Placebo
roams the optical fibre cable
that runs from the walls of Jericho
to the Tower of Babel
Just don’t be hanging around
whenthose walls
come tumbling down
There’ll be no time for poetry
underneath the rubble
There’s no mercy to be found
in Placebo Town
But God is with the humble . . .
In the time of my confession,
in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet
floods every newborn seed
There’s a dying voice within me
reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger
and the morals of despair
Don’t have the inclination
to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold
this chain of events that I must break
In the fury of the moment
I can see the master’s hand
In every leaf that trembles,
in every grain of sand
Oh, the flowers of indulgence
and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals,
they have choked the breath
of conscience and good cheer
The sun beams down upon the steps
of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness
and the memory of decay
I gaze into the doorway
of temptation’s angry flame
And every time I pass that way
I’ll always hear my name
Then onward in my journey
I come to understand
That every hair is numbered
like every grain of sand
I have gone from rags to riches
in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer’s dream,
in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness
fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence
on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps
like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn,
there’s someone there,
other times it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance
of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling,
like every grain of sand
~ Bob Dylan
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people point and say, “look at that perfect skin”
and even without the wings, they know
ocular showdowns were a daily event
Christ-like in the public arena
champagne
at a corn liquor party
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Sons of a stranger
Daughters of danger
As ever outspoken
Fists outstretched
Tongues unleaded
Against God’s chosen
Beauty slain
Upon the high places
Waylaid and forsaken
How have the mighty fallen?
The arrogance of youth
Swifter than an eagle
Stronger than a lion
Caring nothing for truth
With pride broken
Can a man be truly drowning
When in his heart
A fire is raging
A royal inheritance
With a celestial crown
For those who overcome
Where have the mighty fallen?
Somewhere across the border
In Placebo Town
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Placebo Town
another test for flaccidness
just pull up and remain in your automobile
it is almost as if they want you to prove them wrong
the suggestibility of the general public
flaccidness forced from the shadows
flaccidness and the eye to eye test
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Transfixed
Slow and heavy
This material world
Weaved from beams
Of light energy
The quick and the dead
Positives and negatives
Developed in the dark
Illuminated or extinguished
In the blink of a spark
With a chemical fixative
And mystery all around
It’s a brittle pathway
Upon supernatural ground
that leads you away
from Placebo Town
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upon supernatural ground
that leads one away
from Placebo Town
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each boatful are told to annihilate their ego
each soul holds on to a seed of that ego
that seed sprouts into anther weed
(+) Crowley saying that Adam was a star-demon
and not a creature of the mud (+)
daily death and resurrection
tried and tested
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I don’t wish to crow on about it, but
I’m sure Aleister Crowley is reaping
his just desserts.
And why should the Devil have all
the good music?
Is it the drugs, sex, and rock ‘n’ roll?
Or is it those $700 space cotton socks?
“Yeah, down in the graveyard
where we have our tryst
The air smells sweet, the air smells sick
He never smiles, his mouth merely twists
The breath in my lungs
feels clinging and thick
But I know his name,
he’s called Mr. D
And one of these days
he’s going to set you free
Human skulls is hanging
right around his neck
The palms of my hands is clammy and wet
Lord, I was dancing, dancing,
dancing so free
And dancing, dancing, dancing so free
And dancing, Lord, keep your hand off me
And dancing with Mr. D., with Mr. D.
And will it be poison put in my glass?
And will it be slow or will it be fast?
The bite of a snake, the sting of a spider
A drink of Belladonna on a Toussaint night
Hiding in a corner in New York City
Looking down a forty-four in West Virginia
I was dancing, dancing, dancing so free
And dancing, dancing, dancing so free
And dancing, Lord, keep your hand off me
And dancing with Mr. D., with Mr. D.
I was dancing, dancing, dancing so free
And dancing, Lord, keep your hand off me
And dancing with Mr. D. (with Mr. D.)
One night I was dancing
with a lady in black
Wearing black silk gloves
and a black silk hat
She looked at me longing
with black velvet eyes
She gazed at me strange
all cunning and wise
I saw the flesh just fall off her bones
The eyes in her skull
was burning like coals
Lord, have mercy, fire and brimstone
I was dancing with mistress D
Lord, I was dancing, dancing, dancing so free
I was dancing, dancing, dancing so free,
Oh please, Mr. D.
put them space cotton socks on me.”
~ Mick Jagger / Keith Richards
Music Directors of Temple Placebo Choir
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cross the river
and enter a land of
negatively charged psychological emotions
not only are the citizens ashamed of themselves
they are ashamed of complete strangers
little children and friendly pets
====PLACEBO TOWN====
(sexuality wrapped in shame)
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Sex is purely
a biological function
But putting man
in the equation
of multiplication
with his package of baggage
from Ceation’s Gardens
that lost innocence
loaded down with desperation
the shame of being seen
the embarrassment of nakedness
With the accuser ever whispering
in the ear of whoever is listening
The truth is
God made sex
And it was good
Man is a spiritual being
A good old loving union
is a body – soul – spirit celebration
But ever since the fall in Eden
sex has been misused
and abused
As Satan,
the King of Corruption
is against
any loving expression
He’ll pervert it
whenever he can
being the spiritual head
of Placebo Town
And he especially hates it
when humans have fun
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sex is like murder
“thou shall not”
only in the backwoods of Kentucky
is sex a biological sport
the friction of skin
is a Satanic calling card
guilty parties wear the “face”
even the young with their self-initiation
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Guilty panties
floating through space
Banjos duelling
Hillbillies refuelling
on the heroin
of amazing grace
James Brown singing
Sweet Home Town Placebo
With Marilyn Munroe
going commando
sitting pretty
on a white picket fence
The Face of War
and Salvador
getting all jealous
As James Dean
cuts Marilyn’s grass
putting up little defence
Meanwhile
at the Nighthawk Cafe
the party has just started
So take off
the medical face mask
There’s no time
for viral pretence
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the windows
are nailed shut
the virus outside
tongue soaked in salt water
white caked mental paralysis
living for a happier future
a chance to refresh
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Apotheosis
in the shadows
with Dr. Strangelove
and how I learned
to love the virus
The humble cockroach
may well outlive us
as the compromised
immunity of humanity
drown in the toxic waste
flowing from the orifice
of Placebo Town
“I’ve seen the future
and it is murder.”
No need
for a theory
of conspiracy
Hell hath no fury
than Mother Nature
on a bender
of instant karma
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I’m a ghost
Living in a ghost town
I’m a ghost
Living in a ghost town
You can look for me
But I can’t be found
You can search for me
I had to go underground
Life was so beautiful
Then we all got locked down
Feel a like ghost
Living in a ghost town
Once this place was humming
And the air was full of drumming
The sound of cymbals crashing
Glasses were all smashing
Trumpets were all screaming
Saxophones were blaring
Nobody was caring if it’s day or night
I’m a ghost
Living in a ghost town
I’m going nowhere
Shut up all alone
So much time to lose
Just staring at my phone
Every night I am dreaming
That you’ll come and creep in my bed
Please let this be over
Not stuck in a world without end
Preachers were all preaching
Charities beseeching
Politicians dealing
Thieves were happy stealing
Widows were all weeping
There’s no beds for us to sleep in
Always had the feeling
It will all come tumbling down
I’m a ghost
Living in a ghost town
You can look for me
But I can’t be found
We’re all living in a ghost town
Living in a ghost town
We were so beautiful
I was your man about town
Living in this ghost town
Ain’t having any fun
If I want a party
It’s a party of one
~ Mick Jagger
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“FLOWING FROM THE ORIFICE”
the new Pink Floyd album is on a loop
at the Truck Stop showers
for 75 minutes a black woman
sings wordless tunes
with Pink Floyd playing
a bastardized version of
“Dark Side of the Moon”
in the background
seven guitars and a wall of drums
everything sounds the same
speed up or slow down
it don’t hurt
French on the right
Greek on the left
if you’re not sure
just stand next
to your rig
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you know you’ve gone wrong
when you see turd rollers
in the back lot
at one stop the girls
were fantastic butterflies
at another location the flies bite
pull her hand out and there’s warts
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“There’s a killer on the road.
His brain is squirmin’ like a toad.”
~The Doors
In Scarlet Town,
the end is near
The Seven Wonders
of the World are here
The evil and the good,
livin’ side by side
All human forms
seem glorified
Put your heart on a platter
and see who’ll bite
See who’ll hold you
and kiss you good night
There’s walnut groves
and maplewood
In Scarlet Town
cryin’, won’t do no good
In Scarlet Town,
you fight your father’s foes
Up on the hill,
a chilly wind blows
You fight ’em on high
and you fight ’em down in
You fight ’em with whiskey,
morphine and gin
You’ve got legs
that can drive men mad
A lot of things we didn’t do,
that I wish we had
In Scarlet Town,
the sky is clear
You’ll wish to God
that you stayed right here
Set ’em Joe,
play “Walkin’ the Floor”
Play it for my flat-chested
junkie whore
I’m staying up late,
I’m making amends
While we smile,
our heaven descends
If love is a sin,
then beauty is a crime
All things are beautiful,
in their time
The black and the white,
the yellow and the brown
It’s all right there in front of you
in Scarlet Town
~ Bob Dylan
“Riders on the storm.
Riders on the storm.
Into this house we’re born.
Into this world we’re thrown.
Like a dog without a bone,
An actor out on loan,
Riders on the storm.”
~ The Doors
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the year 2020
I was talking to young white adults
they had no idea the value of Adam and Eve
not even a clue (the agonies, the strife)
I spoke of the unfallen sexuality
the manifesto of Eden
one person complained
about the mayo on his sandwich
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“At the innermost core
of all loneliness is a deep
and powerful yearning for
union with one’s lost self.”
~ Brendan Behan
Placebo Town in burning
Living by the fault line
Scars and blood stains
Never fading over time
Love divine
is ever the crime
A powder keg
Private motives
Power games
The loaded gun
Darkness remains
Nothing new under the sun
Yet change is coming
with a passion sublime
Too hot for some
“Coincidence is God’s way
of staying anonymous.”
~ Albert Einstein
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the president landed in West Palm Beach
on all the television stations
speaking of Americans
reaping a full harvest
strikingly rich
(diabolical daddy sins that carry down)
(diabolical daddy sins that pass along)
Bob Dylan alone on the stage
singing about his mom and dad
how they traded their integrity for cash
how they lost sight of the promised land
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Grandpa pissed his pants again
He don’t give a damn
Brother Billy has both guns drawn
He ain’t been right since Vietnam
“Sweet home Alabama”
Play that dead band’s song
Turn those speakers up full blast
Play it all night long
Daddy’s doing Sister Sally
Grandma’s dying of cancer now
The cattle all have brucellosis
We’ll get through somehow
“Sweet home Alabama”
Play that dead band’s song
Turn those speakers up full blast
Play it all night long
I’m going down to the Dew Drop Inn
See if I can drink enough
There ain’t much to country living
Sweat, piss, jizz and blood
“Sweet home Alabama”
Play that dead band’s song
Turn those speakers up full blast
Play it all night long
~ Warren Zevon
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THERE HE STOOD
with one foot in the boat
the other firmly planted on Hell proper
he was already thinking of giving up romantic illusions
“to hell with love” and then he chuckled
perhaps love was too valuable to share
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they pressed one corpse face to another corpse face
a somewhat illicit kiss, Patrick Swayze style
bittersweet memories
a life of coloring book boundaries
sometimes the crayons
were just cheap wax
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diabolical daddy sins squeezed
into the limbless cold skin
room for imagination
but not the heart
constantly searching
knowing the circle remains open
the exit in plain sight but forgotten
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“I used to be Snow White,
but I drifted.” ~Mae West
To spend all your time
chasing your dreams,
or spend all your money
chasing the dragon?
In Placebo Town
it is all one and the same.
“Don’t you know that everybody’s
got a Fairyland of their own?”
~ P.L. Travers
Does the Phoenix dream
of all consuming flames,
or of rising from the ashes
and soaring the heavens again?
“When I examine myself
and my methods of thought,
I come to the conclusion that
the gift of fantasy has meant
more to me than any talent for
abstract, positive thinking.”
~ Albert Einstein
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New York Governor claims to control the Beast
when asked to do a simple drawing of the Beast
he refused, claiming the image would be an idol
an idol with appalling footnotes
romance gendered and sexualized
27 volumes rich with the wiles of women
loveless neurotics writing love notes
on tombstones late at night
fulfillment aggravated by frigid lovers
with semen-caked underwear
seed from another source
making love at the Honeymoon Hotel
keeping the bride in focus
bedroom binoculars
for a mechanical doll
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The Golden Covidious
From old Babylon
To Memphis, Egypt
An object of much worship
New York, New York
It’s a hell of a town
And it’s no different
Stop spreadin’ the virus
I don’t want to be a part of it
New York, New York
These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray
And go nowhere near it
New York, New York
I don’t wanna to wake up dead
In a city that’s got the pox
And find I’m up on Boot Hill
In a pine box
These Placebo Town blues
Are melting away
I’ll make a brand new start of it
Away from old New York
If you can catch Corona anywhere
You’ll catch it in Time Square
It’s not just another flu
And it’s Chinese too
It’s up to you to see it through
New York, New York
~ Frank Sinmantra
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