The Tower of Song

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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

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4,070 thoughts on “The Tower of Song”

  1. swallowing ignorance
    corrupting
    concerns
    knocking
    no matter the distance from today
    agents test the gates of purity
    no matter the cost
    desensitized
    violence
    without
    question
    adversities
    lovers/family

    Like

  2. awkward living in a world
    where people shower with their clothes on
    long-term partnerships
    without pleasure and affection
    suspicion
    fat on misunderstanding
    ——————-
    ——————-
    tormenting thoughts
    floating overhead
    evil being
    intrinsic

    Like

    1. there once was a time
      when the Universe had an interest
      in what I think of this and that
      light years have come and gone
      yet still
      on the odd occasion
      the cosmos pops in for a chat
      and shows me things
      if only to gauge my reaction
      knowing that I am totally free
      from the contagion of human emotion

      Liked by 1 person

  3. THINGS SHOWN TO GAUGE REACTIONS
    no one arrived to bless the meek
    ————
    ————
    conditions of existence
    bound by restraints
    finding community
    in the hotel lobby
    HONEYMOON
    MYSTERY
    ——
    ——
    cocky insects behaving aggressively
    languishing in sexual disappointment

    Like

    1. PHENOMENOLOGY
      since drinking
      the Sorcerer’s elixir
      ‘Death The Question
      … Life The Answer’ ™
      I’ve been drifting
      in a dream sequence
      with the red constantly shifting
      and the blue transcending
      amongst the stars all strobing
      calling me home
      in a crumpled FedEx box
      whilst roaming between
      one world where the cosmos
      is ceaselessly speaking
      and the other
      the realm of the necromancer
      a land of deadly consequence
      as silent as the tomb
      except for the nightly news
      and those wind chimes
      made of human bones
      performing a symphony
      as they dance
      to The Honeymoon Mystery
      I guess it’s better
      than dancing alone

      Like

  4. —————-me computer died/new machine/no idea——————–
    ——————————————————————–
    ——————————————————————–
    they pulled a large insect out of my computer
    it looked Chinese and ancient
    Tom Waits and Chinese
    rather emotional
    my machine self
    (+) I am not a Navajo sand painting
    modern man: common silicon and spiritual chips

    Like

    1. the Hour Glass listens
      and is jacked in
      as the Cyber Mantis
      prays for you
      to the Great Machine
      corrupted data will cease
      and the Virus shall pass
      as the Algorithm Supreme
      maketh all encryptions
      new and clean

      Like

  5. the corpse of my beloved computer
    on its side in the dining room
    sleeping the long sleep
    the new machine
    is a sexy beast
    race car quick
    sensitive
    clean
    (+) It talks to me. It says, “I love you, Michael”

    Like

  6. beatnik poetry turnaround:
    self-examination
    posing in front
    of silhouettes
    different renderings
    just short of Tranquility
    multiple translations
    (adjacent rooms)
    PLACEBO HONEYMOON HOTEL
    bohemian
    gender rents
    Gertrude Stein
    girl gorilla

    Like

  7. chauffeured to the location of sex
    before and after orgasm
    watched closely
    by poverty
    those without/those with less than enough
    ————–
    ————–
    pink skin turned to rough bark
    buttermilk from the tit

    Like

    1. motorcycle aliens
      hidden from the Sun
      harvesting the dreams
      of broken men
      happy drunks
      till the delirium starts
      nasty junkies
      starving for a fix
      opioids
      and methamphetamines
      a means to an end
      for the children of Babylon
      and those fleeting
      Hollywood celebrities
      grafted to the poisoned tree
      a broken branch
      in my dreams I go back
      to the desert
      where the Peyote
      taught my eyes to see
      and to Spahn Ranch
      where the only family
      that truly loved me
      are always happy to greet me
      Charlie may have died in prison
      but David has been set free

      Like

  8. no one said a word
    as we drove past Robert Frost
    taking a lonesome piss outdoors
    perhaps, he was shut out, locked out
    a bewhiskered villain, long in the tooth
    ———–
    ———–
    bad and worsening
    words escaping
    marriageable
    verbs

    Like

  9. pharmaceutical 2023
    death is just a penny on the floor
    the thing of interest: the unproven cause
    + high school crush on drugs
    yes, adulthood with its dirty bathwater
    the withdrawal symptoms of loneliness
    a visible film/a thunderclap reverberated
    (+) Multiple Tantalus
    forever thirsty and hungry in Placebo Town
    one deluded belief after another
    reality 100% free of optimism
    advised to live in the moment

    Like

    1. to sit at the table
      upon high Mount Olympus
      to be an intimate acquaintance
      of fabled gods and goddesses
      to kiss the sky 💋 without
      gravitational consequence
      I fought the law of Placebo Town
      but purely out of innocence
      Morpheus did what he could
      but as usual
      Zeus didn’t not lend a hand
      as he couldn’t give a damn
      Now for some
      mythological vengeance ⚔️💥

      Like

  10. things wash up on the shore
    gloves, scarves, hats
    children with no ambition
    I found it easy to sell treasure
    to an avant-garde theater group
    women in uncomfortable lingerie
    vulva stubble to trap men into marriage
    males who displayed “autistic behaviors”
    half-zipped trousers
    relatively weak
    short horns

    Like

  11. Reader’s Digest says that your fate is your reflection
    you say, “I am me” and reality revs up
    growing up you take note:
    crazy females trying to back out of the driveway
    trying to park and finding it frustrating
    stupidities seldom matter
    barricades/battlefields
    sexual anguish
    minimized
    intensity
    (+) she got in the Buick and backed up like she was exiting
    the mouth of Shakespear……….several natives of the heath
    regarded her as a witch
    (+) the phases that lead to her destruction, reverse in the Buick,
    vulgar pubic hair, cigarettes, adultery with a family member

    Like

  12. Adultery with her brother, a guy at work, strangers
    sex was just the start of a new chapter
    wet circle evidence
    blue-chiffon
    buttocks
    ex-wife poetry
    wife-to-be poetry
    drugs, no need for forgiveness
    drugs, accompanied with hellfire
    (+) snapshots, I don’t need more (+)

    Like

    1. love amongst the humans
      a multiverse of choices
      a myriad of faces
      gratifications
      all flavours
      sacrifices
      vices
      hot
      or
      cold
      pressed
      undressed
      peccadilloes
      bad behaviours
      slaves to biochemicals
      love amongst the humans

      Liked by 1 person

  13. I swear I saw her driving around town
    with Johnny Cash
    he looked small in the Buick
    his crooked elbow holding a cigarette
    in the weirdest of ways
    I was wishing for a baby Johnny
    KNOCK HER UP/KNOCK HER UP

    Like

  14. a guy on TV said that since his early days
    every word out of his mouth was a lie
    I said, “Ain’t that the truth !”
    Skeletons walking around
    it is impossible
    but tell me it
    ain’t so
    torment is one thing
    self-entrapment is another
    riding around town with Johnny Cash
    could my sister be smart enough to birth a baby Cash ?

    Like

  15. too closely mirroring life
    my sister
    bilingual in oral sex
    performative creativity
    free from hunger, poverty
    girl monkeys, suitcases for hire
    ——
    ——
    poor Johnny Cash
    his dong down to the bone

    Like

    1. my wanton sister
      Lucretia Iscariot
      the naked belly dancer
      chased out of Placebo Town
      by the Taliban
      for burning her burqa
      whilst smoking the hookah
      and picking the pocket
      of Genghis Khan
      that veiled smile
      of an unchaste nargile
      administering a severe spank
      in the backseat
      of a stolen chariot
      for thirty pieces of silver
      if you’re lucky
      she’ll just cut your throat
      my wanton sister
      Lucretia Iscariot
      the naked belly dancer

      Like

  16. 4am
    I still recall the word, sleep
    a verb with little effort
    I HAVE THE BIG EYE
    no moving fantasies
    the ticket has been purchased
    a matter of putting my legs on
    Jungian sticks
    maternal God waving
    meaningless pantomime
    just more crap about leisurely dying

    Like

    1. carrying
      a heavy load
      of forgotten faces
      and broken memories
      to a fork in the road
      travelling with a circus troupe
      of bearded ladies
      with pierced extremities
      and tattooed bits
      shaven monkeys
      pretending to be human
      strongmen who’ve lost their grip
      experimenting with psychedelics
      Gypsies and acrobatic midgets
      carnival geeks
      and alien rejects
      pagans all
      in thrall of earthbound
      animal spirits
      diabolicals
      in sheep’s clothing
      this road is less taken
      for good reason
      but so very interesting
      I really should pack my things
      and split
      but the hour is late
      and the eye in the sky
      is fast asleep

      never were
      truer words ever spoken …
      you can choose your friends
      but you sure as hell
      can’t choose your family
      whilst carrying
      a heavy load
      of forgotten faces
      and broken memories

      Like

    2. as a child
      I wasn’t handled much
      being kept in a glass box
      and drip fed margaritas
      through a hole in the roof
      at least
      when left out on the porch
      or on a table near the window
      I could look out
      at a world of wonder
      summertime on Long Island
      just not able to touch
      my adoptive mother
      a Dave & Buster’s bartender
      thought it would keep me
      out of trouble
      and that I’d be
      more comfortable
      having found me
      in a crumpled up FedEx box
      I did try to tell her
      that wasn’t by choice
      but a toddler
      stoned on margaritas
      stuck in a fish tank
      doesn’t have much of a voice
      even after all these years
      still I miss her
      my bartender mother
      who I never got to thank
      for picking me up
      from a bar room doorstep
      always Pink Floyd
      bring me to tears
      when I hear these words …

      How I wish
      How I wish you were here
      We’re just two lost souls
      Swimming in a fish bowl
      Year after year
      Running over the same old ground
      What have we found?
      The same old fears
      Wish you were here

      Like

  17. smoked a cigarette with Leonard Cohen today
    without lungs we couldn’t inhale
    it was just a thought
    a NONOCCURRENCE
    not an UNREASONABLE DREAM
    ————————-
    (religion) drop the pretense, surrender
    ————————-
    a stream of emptiness
    under myself
    my youth
    passed

    Like

    1. it’s Summer Down Under
      so I take Little Lolita
      for some fun in the sun ☀️
      the sand and saltwater 🌊🏝️
      a bare attempt at containment
      the two easy pieces
      of her threadbare swimsuit
      a futile pursuit
      considering the quantity
      and quality
      of her furtile endowment
      fortunately
      she’s not my daughter
      we’re not even related
      otherwise the family
      would demand a piece of her
      starting with those jiggling
      double d breasts
      and after devouring the best parts
      beg for forgiveness
      even cannibals can suffer
      from post-consummate
      illegal guilt and buyer’s regret

      Like

  18. expressions knocking on the door
    changing YET remaining the same
    agents who share a single face
    dead people provoking
    a nervous response
    Hello Death
    ———————-the ripples of the other side
    Michael with faceless text
    point-blank motionless
    Moses at night
    his erection
    glowing

    Like

  19. whispers in the night
    Jesus was an infant
    Jesus was a child
    Jesus was aware
    He lived free of Easter/Christmas
    less than three years of public ministry
    (+) born of Mary but not of Joseph (+)
    the holder of a penis and testicles
    hormones
    that darkened
    his private shadows

    Like

    1. sitting with Neil Young
      in a burnt out basement
      just killing time
      when Mister Young
      tried introducing me
      to a seducing alien
      who offered me salvation
      in the backseat
      of an interstellar limousine
      saying something
      about a Queen
      it was a bit like
      that Southern Man
      offering a slave freedom
      to go work as a servant
      in his plantation mansion
      when Jesus came knocking
      making a salvation offer
      that included a cure
      for the abominable human
      I could see just a mere fraction
      of the suffering he had endured
      and triumphed over as a man
      in order to fulfil God’s
      human redemption plan
      as a lover of creation
      seeking light from the dark
      in a finite lifespan
      how could I do anything other
      than make my mark
      on that dotted line?
      being a chosen one
      means you have a choice
      to choose or refuse
      to cross that line drawn
      in the burning sands of time

      Like

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