
With more skat
than a stray cat
can poke his eyeballs at
the punk
in the Midnight Choir
starts to twist and shout
Yet …
the All in All
all too beautiful
for even a bird on a wire
to sing about
Like that
concert hall in Vienna
where your lips
were so warm and wet
Getting a feel
of the real deal
… that love thing
Upon a mission
a royal commission
seeking foremost
the rock solid Kingdom
It all starts from within
Seizing the living moment
Best be in it
to win
And Leonard Cohen
he’s moved on
to the Tower of Song
To find truth
without love
or at least a trace
of faith and hope
like trying to climb
the highest peak
of Mount Everest
naked
without oxygen
or even a rope
Not saying it can’t be done
but man …
sounding much like
a clanging gong
in the Temple
of a world gone wrong
Or have I found
that love thing?
From the mire
of the dire basement
that we’re standing in
try as you might
to sight the heavens
across the endless skies
Far better
in the light
seeing the world
through heaven’s eyes
Heart and Soulful
Holy Mindfulness
is the rightful place
where we all belong
And Leonard Cohen
he’s moved on
to the Tower of Song
I too
have tried
in my way
to be free
If it be your will
then let it be
Yet
here on earth
they sentenced me
to forty years of mayhem
for spying
the celebrants
of sin
Tell me
where does
this world end
and the next begin?
Because
I don’t like your
toxic culture mister
And I don’t like
the choir
you’re singing in
I don’t like Big Brother’s
twisted little sister
The King
of everything
He’s coming back
He’s coming to reward them
The King of hearts
and minds
the Prince of Peace
returning
But first
we seek the Kingdom
Then let freedom ring
And Leonard Cohen
he’s moved on
to the Tower of Song
I’ve been buried
and I’ve been dug up
I call it grace amazing
You called it dumb luck
And thank you
for those items
that you sent me
The stone monkey
and the ink
under my skin
I’ve tunnelled
towards the light
and now I’m ready
First
we occupy the Kingdom
then
let the revolution begin
Yes … Jesus was a sailor
when he walked upon the water
Seeking the lost at sea
and the drowning
The stranger
the gambler
and me
And Leonard Cohen
he’s sailing on
to the Tower of Song
Through all
the rise and fall
the pulp fiction
from hell’s kitchen
I really like
to walk
that tightrope, baby
I really like
to hear
those Sirens sing
But to see that nightmare
of deception
prowling through creation
Jesus told us
yes he told us
Kingdom starts with
Remember me?
I use to to live
without rhyme or reason
Remember me?
I plugged your Hi-Fi in
You loved me as a loser
You’d hate
to ever see me win
With Christ Jesus
my ship has finally
come in
No longer tied
to a kitchen chair
With a Glory
and a broken Hallelujah!
But first
we take the Kingdom
Losing it all to win
And Leonard Cohen
he’s moved on
to the Tower of Song
I’m counselled
by a whisper
from the heavens
Once I was blinded
by visions in a spin
Now it’s …
So long Chicken Maryland
That frozen turkey
who nearly did me in
For now I’m guided
by the beauty of creation
and a thirst
for the Kingdom
where I first heard
those angels sing
Jesus told us
yes he told us
Kingdom begins within
And Leonard Cohen
he’s singing along
from the Tower of Song
~ by David B. Redpath © 2017-20
Artwork;
‘La Musica Sacra’
~ by Luigi Mussini
Photography:
David B. Redpath © 2017-20

truckload after truckload
wretchedness and poverty
an old ape on television upset
paying an extra tariff on her lip gloss
a dab of Moonglow and she was ready
serpents on the path would lift their scales
and sway with the breeze, cloudless Moonglow
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THAT PLACEBO TOWN DEMURE
big breasted woman
jiggling hand in hand
with her rich husband
giggling along
in a Coco De Mer thong
that’ll be wrapped
around his fat throat
before too long
an old white man
driving down the street
European sports car
Asian girlfriend
in the passenger seat
a freshly cut piece
of exotic meat
young and tight
on full display
with the top down
and ready to play
when the price is right
the well-to-do
of Placebo Town
a rather generic lot
lined up for a mug shot
at the red light district
in the hectic drive-thru
of poetry workshop
as they throw another
water bottle
into a plastic river
without backwards a glance
out the rearview mirror
built upon a cesspit
THAT PLACEBO TOWN SEWER
where you don’t have to be rich
any more to be demure
… and obese
in the heat of a brat summer
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when I was young
I would sleep in the Gospel Tree
which irritated Christians to no end
“To Hell with them, I was a white man”
a million years from the blight and mildew
———0———
———0———
Michael
from the Gospel Tree
the greatest happiness
the greatest length of time
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appropriate subject matter for poetry:
BETTER-OFF, a place where thoughts have fleeting significance
jazz notes carry no known gender, slow and cautious foreplay
romance and mystery (products of the imagination)
clairvoyant poets/plural masturbation
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