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
young people rap and jabber religion
words
themselves do not convey meaning
Jesus pulls us back
Satan pushes us forward
take the confusion out of speech
and nothing is spoken
too tired and wretched
to bust loose
your worn out eyes
they are self-explanatory
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young people rap and jabber religion
that urge to share something
deeper in significance
lucky to be stuck in an ordinary life
a windshield bug in history
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your aunts and uncles———–their shanty romances
teeth in a cup, lights out in separate rooms
expressions of affection
scars around the privates
youth
untrodden sex
—————–jism on the ceiling
—————–stalactites of sperm
fancying what never returns
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Hey Noah
where you goin’
with that raven in your hand?
I’m goin’ down
to Placebo Town
and look for some mother lovin’
dry land
Hey Noah
I heard you found dry land
A rock solid place
where a man
can go find some peace
that was the plan
Where a monotheist
can go make a stand
But all I found
was sinking sand
overrun with pagan priests
That Placebo Town
is on shaky ground
built in the shadow
of a dark side rainbow
I see an almighty curse
soon rainin’ down
Hey Noah
where you gonna sail to now?
What other strange lands
will you be a-finding?
I really don’t know
where or how I’ll be goin’
but Edgar Allan Poe
had better
keep his hands offa my raven
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sometimes I live in the rearview mirror
my skin color
afraid
of the lower plateau of Salems
(+) agonizing after school, Kools or Salems
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The familiar in the rear view mirror
Headlights searching the night for
something strange and peculiar
Euphoria is ever out of range …
somewhere just over the border
Lives of quiet desperation
ever asking the final question
of a terminal situation
Never silent is the waiting answer
… for those who bother to listen
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dreams about twins
who perform magic acts
cutting each other in half
(+) reality check: sodomy with the egg timer crying
a single voice in the dark
“at one time I was a whole person”
expressive clothes and Freudian socks/shoes
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just think if you had a giant hand
Jagger could ride your thumb
you could toss rocks
over the moon
someone asks you about talking suitcases
your one weakness (yeah right)
every year at Christmas
a new talking suitcase
not a factory second
or a Dollar Store special
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In Placebo Town
where they like
to play rough
one often hears
those talking suitcases
gossiping on the rooftops
about school uniforms
handcuffs
leather accoutrements
and the suchlike
Fortunately for me
my talking suitcase
knows the importance
of keeping secrets
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the nature of the developing glob of goo
some bark at the moon
others ride rockets
self-fulfillment
corrosion
Adam and Eve had roots in Eden
they were fixed to God
new knowledge
seeded them
enemies
(+) the urgency of that first shit
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people ask me if I have stainless-steel teeth
crustacean sounds with mechanical legs
cellmates want to think about
jacking off
egotistical at 90mph
white on white
with little flesh color showing
more than white, I am colorless
a cut-out with conversational balloons
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Nose rings
are all the rage
in a place where ordinary
is the never ending average
A tattoo will give you an edge
and a piercing
can be a real advantage
when being led around
Being normal is mandatory
in Placebo Town
so remember your heritage
and release your inner savage
all dressed up
as a circus clown
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perhaps, I am not the first poet
to state that
Satan squats in France
Gore Vidal
fanning the fumes
loving the response
never too late for tourists
white people after a bleach bath
dark spectacles, a baseball cap
landscapes become a mental map
standing there
around watering holes and shallow caves
thinking how others are unprepared
for something so claustrophobic
as death
(+) post-Auschwitz jazz
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I kissed the girl with the price tag
the guys at the pool hall
nervously asked
“do you know
who you kiss,
Michael ?”
I’ve kissed the behinds
of a thousand
shanty town
whores
yes,
every white sailor
around the world
knows my name,
Mister Lips
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“That Mister Lips sinks loose ships.”
~ Ishmael, the Great White Whale 🐋
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(+) cut up your poop
before you flush
sexual maturity cut up
mixed in with the flush
(+) a life of nonstick underpants
derogatory remarks
about my lukewarm wife
who complains
about my penis at night
a whippoorwill
that seldom sleeps
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INCEST
your father pounding on the window
your mother on the other side of the car
horrific masks of fear
“why were you kissing your sister
like she was a platypus ?”
(+) the front door of romance trying to distance itself
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my big sister
would kiss with her fists
but sadly for me
her friends were all
particularly horny
and found that a piece
of innocent spring lamb
too hard to resist
as they one at a time
whispered . . .
“Please don’t tell anyone.
Being so young,
this kinda thing
is considered a crime.”
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Satan scrawling messages on rectal blisters
gone to Paris to squat
to drop turds
from the Eiffel Tower
material to ignite poetry
(+) poop like you did in the electric chair
(+) poop like you did in the cyanide chamber
make mention of the warden’s dirty ankles
your nude body in death
a work of art
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just short of the battlefield
poets sewing up details
paupers
thrown in the flames
(+) seize and subdue
emotional bondage
burrs and brambles
in the underpants
library after library laid bare
The United Front of Sisters
————fists to kiss————
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Poets hiding
in the panic room
talking sweet liberty
the prime delusion
of the artistic elite
From the basement
of the Placebo Town Library
seeps an all pervading gloom
where a graffitied statement
is endlessly repeated
“Be prepared to meet your doom.”
As John Lennon
is gunned down
for daring to say . . .
“… you think you’re so clever
and classless and free
but you’re still fucking peasants
as far as I can see.”
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famous for her conveyor conversation
her conveyor tongue
sailors thought it
humorous
school boys with their self-questioning
interlocked fingers, rapid dong stranglers
Noah brave enough to show his hands to God
cinematic masturbation, each and every glorious time
Noah proud of his pump, the dynamic thrust of his seed
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a hotel apartment next door to Leonard Cohen
he told me that his mother
rode his father like a donkey
over the years he developed a bray
(+) something glandular about Leonard’s voice
white man in a world of circles
white man, the center of a mystery
collecting all the words ever spoken
abbreviated and forgotten, improbable
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ONE THING CAN BE SAID ABOUT PLACEBO TOWN:
—————FAT VULTURES—————-
poets collecting dictionary driftwood
triangle underwear everywhere
protection that faced
the other way
only recently
big ears, small ears
ears ripped off by brutes
damaged beyond being surgically reattached
scrappy girls that slap around lesbians
chipped teeth and bald spots
androgynous fingers
wet with spit
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Fat vultures
feeding on the carcass
of Mother Nature
The pseudo environmentalists
of Placebo Town
plastic hippy hypocrites
with giant carbon footprints
Do us all a favour
Save The Planet – Slash Your Wrists
(This message was brought to you
by Big Placebo Business ®)
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