Change … Unchained


The good, the bad,
the beautiful, and the ugly,
in the broken mirror of time
all staring back at me.
When Planet Earth
was first given birth,
a world of wonder and beauty,
it was all good.
Could be. Should be.
Four seconds to midnight,
at the stroke of eternity,
the Spirit challenges me
. . . “CHANGE!”

Saddled upon a vortex
of unbridled chaos.
Riding a well worn trail
of privilege and pretence,
that terminates
at the gates of Los Lobos.
Where someone is building
a great big fence
upon a mirage
of human waste.
Loving kindness?
Not a taste!
Where the callous
and the careless
abuse and accuse.
Is the need for change
just too intense?

Mankind in the frame.
A slave in the chains
of brother Cain.
Ötzi the Iceman
on the run
from something new
under the sun.
Have you been sharpening
your balistic aim
at the rifle range
of verbal exchange?
Indeed, you’ll need
to step up your game.
At times it seems
the more things change
deep at the core
just more of the same.
A valley of dry bones
where the black dog of shame
eats into your brain
whilst whispering your name.
Sticks and stones thrown
from low flying drones
delivering cardbord pizzas
and barrel bombs of pain.
A mask of shadows
worn by the forlorn
in this game of sorrows.
Three seconds till midnight.
Best not count upon
all those borrowed tomorrows.

Do you know
what you’re here for?
Nature or nurture?
Fortune and fame?
No need to be tame.
Nature is a mother
in the arms
of a heavenly lover.
As a true son
and a true daughter
the Creator
longs to walk with you
in the Garden of Forever.
Is it high time
to surrender
that calculus
of a fermented mess?
Much better
to take up your cross
and arise like a phoenix
from the fires
… of change?

Has the Chantress of Amun,
from the Karnak of Ruin,
led you astray with a merry tune?
Do you know
who you’re up against?
A bad case of self defense?
Has the cold of this world
left you frozen?
Boxed in ice
by the twist
of a personality test?
And all the circumstance
of random chance?
Have you been listening
to all those beautiful lies
from Lucy in the Skies?
Without any legal defence!
No rabbit foot to kiss
or star chart to hide in?
Does your brand
of mindfulness
leave you with a dry
and empty taste?
In a purple haze
of spiritual restlessness?
Life and death
upon the whim
of some micro-organism.
With fear loud,
and silent desperation,
a world imploding.
The virus spreading
in a universe expanding.
Destination uncertain
with no good explanation?
Best seek the Mainframe
with mindful meditation,
via the server of salvation,
before the big final curtain.
How long can heaven wait
… for change?

Taking a fateful risk
in a petri dish of uselessness.
This culture of fruitlessness.
Where the young and the restless,
are caught in between
an extinction protest
and a computer game,
programmed by an all pervasive
spirit of antichrist.
Saving the planet
will be the sugar-coated pretext
for the next tightening of the net
(wait till you’ve read the script).
With the P.C. aggressive,
and the proselytising atheist,
posing as a celebrity scientist?
… What next!?
A virus downloaded
by the click of a tongue
and the flick of a wrist.
In need of a Life Strategist?
Better make it a real good one!
Have you had the jab
of supernatural resistance?
Is it time for a celestial fix?
A disinfectant of the soul
that won’t take a heavy toll?
Is it time for you
to flick the switch?
When life brings you to the ledge,
and you’re walking along the edge,
you’ll get to the point
… of change.

The haughty,
the naughty,
and the nice.
The would be
and the could be
… could we all be
pirouetting madly
in some fool’s paradise?
Caught in the trance
of a downhill dance?
Humanity loaded down
with a placebo dose,
as a virus lets loose
upon his pseudo crown.
Landing a low blow
in the land of FOMO.
A void devoid of
humble humility?
Bravado allegro
to avoid all thoughts
of mortality, temporarily.
Don’t be checked mate
by force feeding
the Hand of Fate.
While there’s life,
where there is love,
it is ever too late
… for change?

True power,
with divine passion,
always seems to be
under the hammer
of insidious persecution?
Whilst the politician
of dubious motivation
dons the rags of religion.
Always a good look
when facing
a tribal election.
“Viva la revolución…
Make our tribe great again!”
Through the hall of mirrors
smoke is seeping
with an unholy glimmer.
Mother Dysmorphia,
high on the tide of fashion,
and her latest prescription.
You may as well surrender
to the Church of Social Media
where the prisoners
of self isolation are taken.
What place better
for a makeover?
A cyber reconstruction?
A new and improved persona?
Is that who you truly are?
Have you overstayed your visa?
… Dans le noir?
You have already
the sweet loving ability
imbued with nobility
… surpassing.
Beyond worldly worth,
a citizen by birth.
Made in the Image.
Imago Dei … all the way!
Don’t shoot the messenger
. . . or his deputy!
the justice of cosmic poetry
in harmonious motion,
upon a mystical fluid ocean,
catches up with all at sea.
Some things are certain
… true change,
upon this runway of life,
just waiting to happen
… eventually.

The fast and the furious,
the slow and the cautious,
desperately seeking
a code for the road
written with compassion.
An algorithm of purpose.
For the seeker curious
… a promise virtuous;
In Jesus’ name
After a hot shot
Of love and truth
You’ll never be the same

So, be altitude blessed.
Upwardly mobile
in righteous style
with a lingering taste
of divine substance.
Not a loser,
or a failure.
Not even a sinner!
In Christ,
a redeemed winner.
With the mother
of all makeovers,
Invited for dinner.
A banquet to celebrate
the end of an age,
and this world’s
broken down racquet.
To be found
sound of mind,
through the central server
of the profound,
on the Eternal Mainframe.
Rerouted for gain,
through all the pain.
To begin again,
with a single decision
… to change.

The high,
and the mighty,
the sick and the lame.
To the One for all
are we all made the same?
Weighing the measure
children of Light
made heavy duty.
Counting the cost
of a misplaced treasure,
and innocence lost.
With downcast eyes,
“Lord God,
please forgive me …”.

To be,
or not to be,
one of a kind?
Rebooting the mind,
whilst the truth
is within range.
With a world of strange
to rearrange.
Or am I playing it safe
in a familiar place?
Am I daring to embrace
… the winds of change?

Has the Temptress
of Tarot
left you to beg,
steal, and borrow?
Has your stone circle
and that rock of crystal
lost their sparkle?
Has the millstone
around your neck
come full circle?
Is it written
in the stars
or upon the red sands
of Mars?
A tongue to chastise
and freely criticise?
From a wasted place
of disgrace
the bruises and scars
of a thousand lies.
Are you fitting in
nicely with the best
of the rest
on the red carpet,
right next to
the celebrity entrance?
Big business,
show business
and Miss Universal entrants
all strutting the catwalk
of political correctness.
Are you gagging at the
Vomitorium of Sameness?
Are you chomping
at the bit
where the opium
of the masses
will get you elected
to high office?
And where Gladiators
of the Rock Age
are making
a final appearance,
with geriatric punks
lost in a virtual sea
of comatose forgetfulness.
The Palace of Privilege
raving to the sounds
of Mr. Hendrix
and his Experience.
Raging against the Queen
of a Stone Age Pub Test.
Best to resist …
cease and desist,
that Kool-Aid Acid Test.
Are you on a slide
just outside
the Cathedral of Eternal Bliss?
Baby, it’s gotta
come from the inside.
Not just from somebody else.
Are your stocks
taking a pandemic loss
at the Shock Exchange of Strife?
Need an honest broker
to reinvest your portfolio of life?
Is it still possible to rearrange?
In a splurge to purge
are you dry reaching
… for change?

With all the ugliness
of gasping greed,
that never ending need
at all costs to succeed,
there’s a streaming explosion
of abstract division.
Could you do
with some mindful rest,
unified with the heavenly best.
Would you know it
when it hits you in the chest?
Are you overdue
for a true breakthrough?
To be thoroughly blessed?
To breathe
the breath of life.
Sick and tired
of a wild goose chase?
There is a place
flowing with mercy and grace.
Do you know the address
where peace of mind
comes with serenity sublime?
Is it past time
to change the pace?

Do I have
the necessary gear
to stare down
hatred and fear
right between the eyes?
Or am I resuming
the grooming
of a false assumption?
Do I have
the God given gumption
for reconstruction?
To be torn down,
from the rooftop
of easy seduction,
to the foundation
of least resistance?
beyond mere existence
upon a pathway
that rises
from yesterday’s ashes,
to a never ending
love dimmension.
A fair exchange
for those willing
… to change.

The bully
and the blameless,
the greedy
and the shameless,
all searching the breach.
Eternal perfection
just out of reach.
To find true significance,
without the deception
of abusive substance.
It’s gotta come
from the inside,
not from somebody,
or something, else.
Forsaken and taken
on a guilt trip
to the beach
by some practitioner
of the big preach.
With fine speech
for your wallet to reach.
The real deal in Christ,
not a counterfeit,
not a token,
but the truest Word
ever spoken.
Turning your eyes
towards Him,
to interface
with mercy and grace.
To find the divine
in that mindful place
… Kingdom within.
You are a coin
of the heavenly realm,
stamped and minted
with the image of the King.
Brother, can you spare
… some change?

Two seconds till midnight.
The end of time
coming down the line
. . . coming into sight.
In a world of darkness and stife
Truth will be your only proof
of eternal life.
Best reach out for the light.
Dark moves are afoot
to put you under the boot
of Globalised Might.
Are you just waiting
for a sign
to know ahead of time
what’s going down?
Along with all
the rebellious rabble
are you climbing up
the wrong ladder
to the New Improved
and Genetically Modified
Tower of Babel?
A stranger danger
pointing a finger
to a place
you just don’t belong?
Or some leader new
singing the same old song?
To make a follower of you,
and blind you
to what is really going on?
To keep you
from the light.
And perhaps,
bound and gagged,
to string you along?
When change hits
the big fan
we’ll see who’s got
the better plan.
The body and soul of man
covered in wounds
inflicted by
the ceaseless tongues
of Hollywood starlets,
pop idols, and false prophets.
All left for dust
to rust
in their Marilyn Mansions
of extreme self indulgence.
Or to rot in the tomb
whilst sleeping restlessly
with dark spirits of gloom.
What would those
celebrity atheists
know of all this?
Yet they never cease
preaching to us!
What would I know of this,
you may well ask.
I was salvaged
from a sea of garbage
by the One they say
doesn’t even exist.
At a crossroad
all too real
I was offered
a supernatural deal
I could not resist.
Far apart from deals dirty
and uberstitious flights of fancy
that seem to have no end.
Couldn’t you use
a true loving friend
… just for a change?

One second to midnight.
With true peace of mind
of the celestial kind
will you be ready for the fight?
Have you invited Jesus Christ
in power, and in person,
into your heart?
Sweet, neat, and complete
… with a love resurrection.

Some say
the Hand of Fate
having written
moves on.
I believe
a free hand is given
to all God’s children
to write their own sacred song.
At times,
against the headwinds,
you need sing it loud,
and sing it strong.
Against an enemy
who tries to terrorise you,
with crimes of design,
into just playing along.
So lift your eyes
and harmonise
with a band leader true.
Who will see you right,
and clear through,
into the light.
Who won’t steer you wrong
with some dead beat
Charlie Manson song.
In a world of reaction
could you use some
remedial action
whilst your pendulum
is still in motion?
Are you in need of some
soul stirring locomotion
for cutting through
all of this world’s
soul destroying commotion?
To realign with a righteous
and royal kingdom.
Where souls
are made whole
and unfrozen.
Where the curse
of all lies is broken.
Like gone and forgotten.
In Truth, with all proof,
may the true you,
the immaculate Imago Dei,
be now and forever
Free and unchained …
as light through the prism
… of Change.

Words & Images:
~ David B. Redpath © 2018-20

160 thoughts on “Change … Unchained”

      1. I just like to keep my eyes, and mind open.
        I feel the “Wisdom of Age” is an undeserved privilege
        after fully exploring the freedom to rage.
        And to share,
        even if no one is listening.
        ~ Thanks again Rita

        Liked by 6 people

  1. This is a truly great poem, David.
    A nice summing up of the follies of the age in which we live.
    Between the realm of illusion that is this world of cyberspace and social media that humanity has created for itself and the True Reality that is to be found in Christ.

    Liked by 7 people

    1. I went out on Lower
      Broadway and I felt that
      place within,
      That hollow place where
      martyrs weep and angels
      play with sin.
      ~ Bob Dylan (Dirge)

      Thanks Chris.
      I must confess,
      whilst writing this
      I was riding the rapids,
      upon a grand promise
      of eternal bliss.

      Liked by 5 people

  2. I am hooked on your poetry.
    It inspires me.
    Such a deep take on everything.
    I live these lines from your poem:
    ”a free hand is given to all God’s children.
    To write their own sacred song..”
    Yes, and we all try to sing our own sacred song.
    Thankyou for your poetry

    Liked by 6 people

      1. Oh bless you David.
        Thank you so much.
        I do love the cutting edge to your poetry,
        that slices through hypocrisy to the real
        truth within. Kudos

        Liked by 4 people

      2. You just made me cry lol.
        Thank you.
        I am still working my way through your poetry.
        Your words have made my day.

        Liked by 4 people

      1. Let me re-phrase: I suck at sarcastic poetry. I’m only good for a one-liner…something that doesn’t have to rhyme, most of the time (Heh!). If it does, it’s purely by accident…
        I thought imitation was the highest form of flattery? Perhaps imitation and sarcasm are interchangeable.

        Liked by 2 people

  3. This time reading it, David, I caught your wonderful line about “the lies of Lucy in the sky with diamonds.”

    And I immediately thought whose name the name Lucy can be short for and the Apostle Paul’s warning about the “prince of the power of the air”.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. A fascinating poem, David. Quite a nice swing to it, too.

    Of course, how we see ourselves — our poem, so to speak — is constantly under assault from so many fronts, primarily society.

    At times,
    against the headwinds,
    you need sing it loud,
    and sing it strong.
    Against an enemy
    who tries
    with crimes of design
    to terrorise you
    into just playing along.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you very much
      dear lady … from
      the House of the Holly.
      It matters not how bent
      the jouney spent,
      nor how high the gate,
      for I’m now charged with contentments many
      along this mortal coil.
      I was the master
      of my confounded fate
      till I relinquished control
      to the captain true
      of my immortal soul.
      (Ernest apologies
      to William Henley)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Luiza, I must confess,
        much of the time,
        I don’t know what
        I’m writing.
        When I put down the pen
        I often think to myself,
        where did that come from?
        Thank you for partaking,
        sweet friend.


      2. Oh I get you so much. But do you work on these or is your poetry mostly stream of consciousness? Because I do it. But not to the extent you in, your poetry is quite long winded. In a magical creative good way. This is the uncomfortable at work. Gosh David I am at a Psychoanalysis workshop. About to learn Lacan and language. Ask your half about it if you’re not acquainted with him yet.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I’ve always liked Jung’s thinking,
        being a card carrying member
        of the collective
        But perhaps, Lacanianism
        is to psychology,
        what Dali is to surrealism.


      4. Perhaps, he may be. I am the funniest in psychoanalysis. I keep trying to integrate it all together. I don’t see why Jung and Freud can’t be integrated. But then again, I confess I have an interest in psychoanalysis but do not really know it in depth. But I have my whole life ahead to try and figure that out.

        Liked by 1 person

      5. The human mind covers
        a lot of ground.
        Jung leaned to the spiritual,
        whereas Freud was more primal.
        It may all depend on who
        you talk to, and what phase
        of this cosmic maze, they
        are passing through.


      6. Luiza, my wife has a degree
        in psychology, and I had to
        keep up to help her study.
        I once read a poem by
        Longfellow that took up a
        whole book, from cover to
        cover. So, in comparison,
        I think my poems are quite short!


      7. Ah that’s so lovely of you David real and true partnership. May yous be blessed and may I find this one day. 😘😘😘😘to yous and wow. I’m not even going to attempt googling this one long poem haha.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, when stuck in some spiritual hole,
      change is an antibiotic for the soul 💊
      Away from worldly infection,
      and towards the true lovin’ light.
      A step in the right direction ✔️
      Thanks for reading, Dwight 😎

      Liked by 1 person

  5. From “geriatric punks” 🎸
    to sacred songs 🎶
    The countdown is on, ⏳
    an’ I’m singin’ along.
    What a beautiful poetic compendium 🤩💛
    for the still-young years of this new millennium. 👯‍♂️👯‍♀️✨
    Loving the images too btw…
    vraiment superbe. 🌅🗽🎨🖌

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Hey don’t knock my
        Billy (Idol), his billy’s
        far from boiled yet. ;)) 😜
        Always a pleasure to read
        your hearty offerings;
        they truly make a meal
        fit for kings. 💛🎶🙏

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Ooh, now you’ve got me
        intrigued for the subtext,
        did not know about
        that other aspect. 🧐🇲🇽🤓
        I was actually going to write
        “wheat kings” 🎶👱‍♂️🕶🌾
        in that last comment,
        but upon quick research
        felt the meaning of *that* song
        didn’t fit. So Tragically,
        my comment wasn’t quite
        as Hip. 🤩✌️👯‍♂️🇨🇦

        Liked by 1 person

      3. You’d have to go to the old
        Urban Dictionary to discover
        the subtle lyrical intricacy 👁️
        of that White Wedding, Lia.
        And I always have a sip
        of rose hip tea🌹🍵
        when reading your groovy ✌️
        psychedelic commentary 🌈 😎

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I just figured out that I read this poem back in August 2018, just shortly after I returned to blogging. I forgot all about it. Thanks for the revisit! 💘🤗🤩😎

        Liked by 1 person

  6. “Saving the planet
    will be the sugar-coated pretext
    for the next tightening of the net…”

    Chilling words. You are a master at mixing and mingling evocative images to create something new.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. “I am the wisest man alive,
      for I know one thing, and that is
      that I know nothing.” ~ Socrates

      Thanks for the translation, Charlie.
      I try not to express fashions, nor
      fleeing opinions, and start with the
      simple truth that I know nothing.
      The end result being I have no idea
      what I’m writing 😎

      Liked by 1 person

  7. I like the visuals, David, but find it increasingly difficult to read your poems because there are way too many references to Christianity in them, and I am not a Christian, and never will be! I think writing that is overtly biased in favour of an author’s personal religious beliefs and convictions should be avoided. Everyone has some cross or other to bear, but most keep it private. In any case, we, you and I, live in the secular West, and religious superstition isn’t relevant in our modern scientific and technologically advanced world. Sorry if this seems somewhat brutal, David.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “Truth exists; only lies are invented.”

      ~Georges Braque

      Stake my future
      on a hell of a past
      Looks like tomorrow
      is a coming on fast
      Ain’t complaining
      about what I got
      Seen better times
      but who has not

      Silvio silver and gold
      Won’t buy back the beat
      of a heart grown cold
      Silvio I gotta go
      Find out something
      only dead men know

      Honest as the next jade
      rolling that stone
      When I come and knockin’
      don’t throw me no bone
      I’m an old boll weevil
      looking for a home
      If you don’t like it
      you can leave me alone
      I can snap my fingers
      and require the rain
      From a clear blue sky
      and turn it off again
      I can stroke your body
      and relieve your pain
      And charm the whistle
      off an evening train

      Silvio silver and gold
      Won’t buy back the beat
      of a heart grown cold
      Silvio I gotta go
      Find out something
      only dead men know

      Give what I got
      until I got no more
      I take what I get
      until I even the score
      You know I love you
      and further more
      When it is time to go
      you got an open door
      I can tell your fancy
      I can tell your plain
      You give something up
      for everything you gain
      Since every pleasure’s
      got an edge of pain
      Pay for your ticket
      and don’t complain

      Silvio silver and gold
      Won’t buy back the beat
      of a heart grown cold
      Silvio I gotta go
      Find out something
      only dead men know

      One of these days
      and it won’t be long
      Going down the valley
      and sing my song
      Gonna sing it loud
      and sing it strong
      Let the echo decide
      if I was right or wrong

      Silvio silver and gold
      Won’t buy back the beat
      of a heart grown cold
      Silvio I gotta go
      Find out something
      only dead men know

      ~ Bob Dylan / Hunter Robert

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Yes, truth, but what is truth? Then, what sort of truth? What did Braque mean by truth? Truths also are invented. What do I mean? Beliefs in the minds of men. Men assume this truth, that truth, and never, or only very seldom, search hard or dig deep. Under the face of truth, behind the veils of truth, beyond all truth. Why is it we feel in our bones that there is no truth? Nihil. Why dig for that which doesn’t exist? Vanity. We know nothing yet we strut around full of conceits, full of witticisms, chattering endlessly.

        The Grateful Dead, eh! A great name for a now merely legendary outfit. What does it mean? Jerry Garcia. California. Band. Psychedelia. Stanford. CIA. Back then. History. Lies.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. My howl is but a whimper
      in the maelstrom of …

      “angelheaded hipsters burning
      for the ancient heavenly
      connection to the starry dynamo
      in the machinery of night,
      who poverty and tatters
      and hollow-eyed and high sat up
      smoking in the supernatural darkness
      of cold-water flats floating across
      the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
      who bared their brains to Heaven … ”

      But then, I really appreciate do your
      cross-referencing, Liz 🙏
      Sadly, my voice has been untuned
      from howling at a hungry moon 🎑 😎

      Liked by 1 person

    1. “Reality only reveals itself when it
      is illuminated by a ray of poetry.”

      ~ Georges Braque

      Thanks for reading, Diane.
      I guess that by plumbing the depths
      of a poem written from the heart,
      you’re left with a piece of the writer’s
      soul. Like a reflected trace from the
      mirrored surface of spirit simpatico.

      Liked by 1 person

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