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
AN ENTIRE TRIBE OF BOY SCOUTS SODOMIZED HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
a few sizeable members but nothing in the category of the mailman
both familiar and strange, modern sodomy
(+) Americanized (+) Parisianized
hobbyists in your younger years
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talk
that the facts and material
stored in the library
are ready to fall away
riders in the heavens
ready to mount for battle
all those who feel good enough
they find themselves not good enough
multiplicity in the shadows
completeness and perfection
washed away, destruction first
(+) the boneless multiple cannot stand
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THE ROOM GREW SILENT
the agent mentioned “speaking voice”
questioning fictitious characters in poetry
sensitive individuals living a near-solitary existence
Placebo Town famous for its large number of politico-religious poets
landscapes of priests on ladders fumbling with key rings
backward glances at the nonstop sodomy
operating at the truck stop showers
some say, “soul-satisfying”
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I was told that her breasts
were suction-applied
living literature
extremely
tight underwear
that housed chocolate bars
soft brown memories
accessible infancy
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I was told that the hotel had ramps
that I could roll just about anywhere
advised to stay clear of the pool deep end
guests loosely gathered in the lobby
every hand held digital snapshots
dirty secrets, soiled bicycle seats
erections cooing and gurgling
unbuttoned buttocks
nothing swaddled
bareback
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the gentle water
beneath thy feet
flow over us all, Adam
wake the Lord, advise him to function
tell him that Eve is with child
the gentle water
beneath thy feet
Israel in the paste of Creation
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physical qualifications for the pursuit
a rod and a hole
penetrate to an egg timer
be penetrated likewise
knowing it is counterfeit
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if one hears the wolf horns
it is too late
(bellow like a bull)
every production
Romeo and Juliet
carried away on stretchers
observant no more
the Rabbi carries strips of newspaper
in his pocket
leaden shoes in the latrine
nervous agitation
keeping the diddle finger clean
dialogue with the hand
biomechanics
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arrested at gunpoint
temporary female company
from the entourage, one girl ape
gift-wrapped flesh
visible facets
I said that she was Liz Taylor from outer space
a Rolls-Royce with chubby thighs
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I was warned by the night porter
that I might experience
the wolf horns
“just ignore them”
bad advice I thought
how does one ignore wolves ?
it doesn’t take an old gypsy woman
from a Hollywood movie to predict disaster
vulnerable addicts and lovers should remain indoors
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Howling Bull,
my Cherokee shaman,
would mix powdered wolf horn
with peyote, corn whiskey, and
a mushroom full of psilocybin.
He told me it was a cure
for toxic masculinity,
so to drink plenty.
I protested that I was a feminist,
but he just laughed, saying,
“When the horn is master
predation be your destiny.
So drink up, sonny,
from a cup overflowing
with the power of fertility.”
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when the horn is master
(+) predation be your destiny
(+) diarrhea on the floor
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I must admit
that sour corn mash
made this acolyte regurgitate
(not to mention the psilocybin).
Howling Bull said, “Do not to worry,
it is a reaction not unusual,
but now drink deeply another cupful
as the Great Spirit of Creation
patiently awaits my beloved disciple.
You must taste Eden’s apple,
and leave temporarily
the skin of your earthly body,
to travel the higher reality
if you truly wish to see clearly.
May you unravel the snare of disunity,
and forever be in harmony
with the manifold singularity.”
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the Trump handbook
warns against Manifold Singularity
“we survive by the coarseness of soul and fiber”
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The Manifold Singularity
has been known to knock many
off their feet, as it carries with it
the epiphany of Instant Karma.
The taste being diabolically bitter,
yet angelically sweet.
Manna from heaven
is full of spiritual fibre.
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detached and virginal
Mary begged the Lord
to break the hold
he had on her
privates
(+) a grip as tight as a miser’s fist
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Pointed threats,
They bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool’s gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying
~ Bob Dylan
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Adam had no fears of a womb-like cave
no vagina strangulation
no dreams of being a small child
holding the reins
of a pure white pony
in white socks
and pony shoes
(+) later in earth years a famous doctor
would write about Adam
holding the reins
to his erection
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Doctor Who’s
Tardis is much bigger
on the inside
That Time Lord of Gallifrey
is always up for a ride
on the temporal side
Those wild wild horses
could never drag him away
from my television
The Science Fiction
Space Jesus
for every citizen
of Placebo Town
who’ve forgotten how to pray
“Please Doctor Who
come save us
an alien invasion is going down!”
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future purchases at the Dollar Store
efficient forms of sentience
the check-out lady was impressed
“YOU ARE A GENTLEMAN OF NORMALCY”
the cold tablets made one
increase exponentially
rather than incrementally
to step out of the Testaments
to cease to be well-behaved
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male humans equipped with single-shot rifles
(+) God made Adam for himself
(+) God made Eve for Adam
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Adam’s nipples
raises the thorny question
was he just a lonely singular
roaming Eden’s garden
desperately seeking satisfaction
or the original multiple
awaiting Eve to pluck an apple
on the event horizon?
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day after day
the wolf horns sound
the man with the scythe
growing thin
librarians weighing vowels
and measuring dongs
QUALIFICATIONS
inner voices trying to push the penis out
one sway of the scythe
peculiar urges cease
rhythmical labor
and a bucket of seed
love sexualized
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“Someday the earth will weep,
she will beg for her life, she will
cry with tears of blood. You will
make a choice, if you will help
her or let her die, and when she
dies, you too will die.”
~Hollow Horn Bear
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“come Daddy, come to charm”
a baby egg in the House of Love
constantly pushing the stray out
without apology, the happy flow
whispers of immortality
ventriloquial farts
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In Placebo Town
the predominant sound
is a subservient falsetto
that emanates from it’s citizens.
Like retro disco on viagra.
The signature vibration
of incomplete mutations.
A condition known as puberphonia.
Fortuitously
I found the medicine man
Howling Bull
out on the Cherokee reservation,
playing poker at the casino in Ramona.
After my initiation
he dealt me in, saying,
“Only a fool goes back to Placebo Town.
No one is born to be a crazy horse or a
hollow horn. The spirit man needs no
war paint as he dances with destiny.
So make a stand to the very last hand.”
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