Placebo Town (revisited)

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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

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Photography:
David B. Redpath © 2018-2020

343 thoughts on “Placebo Town (revisited)”

    1. 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

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 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.

        Like

      2. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      3. 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

        Like

  1. 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”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ……………………. 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

      Like

      1. 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

        Like

    2. 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

      Liked by 1 person

  3. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Like

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

  4. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 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)

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

      3. 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

        Like

  5. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Like

  6. 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)

    Liked by 1 person

      1. 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

        Like

    1. 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

      Like

  7. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Like

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

  8. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Like

      1. 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”

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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.
         

        Like

  9. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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.”

      Like

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

      3. 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”

        Liked by 1 person

      4. 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 ?

        Liked by 1 person

      5. 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

        Like

  10. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  11. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  12. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 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.”

        Like

    2. 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.

      Like

  13. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 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

        Like

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

  14. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  15. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Like

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

    2. 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

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

    3. 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

      Like

      1. 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

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 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

        Like

      3. “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

         

        Like

  16. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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 💋

      Like

  17. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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

      Like

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