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
David Redpath 
a matter of comparative difference
John was given a basket
and sent to market
Paul curled on a pillow
and passed scented farts
(@a lordly superior being lost in sleep)
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John loved to bind the many strands of Yoko into a single whole
the initial commitment of Paul wore away and was replaced
Paul falling into a slumber that was mistaken for death
sporting with his fame. Paul loved his lack of color
“more famous not less without the devil pact”
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Yoko became famous
for the eelgrasslike ribbons
that swayed back and forth
in the currents of her skull
she was shallow water
submerged in the
deeper John
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WARNING: Yoko art will short-circuit the common man
without the intervention of brain activity, what is art ?
two individuals with different norms of reaction
John produces John, Paul produces Paul
fraternal twins and nothing more
two males nurturing sound
for the greater expression
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What is Art?
The HumancentiPad formerly
known as John Paul Yoko once
asked me to go seek the Spider
Shamans from the dark side of
Proxima Centauri. I found those
alien arachnids down deep below
in a chasm of purple jello. They
just existed there, without rhyme
or reason, vibrating as in a spasm.
In that total lack of light, they
didn’t even cast a shadow.
So I hitched a ride with Ziggy
Stardust (it was lightyears faster
than catching a bus) to the hidden
valley where the phosphorescent
Wolf-Flower grows. We arrived
not a moment too soon, as the
Mariphasa Lupina Lumina only
blooms by the light of a full moon.
It was a cloudless night, and those
iridescence Wolf-Flowers were a
wondrous sight. Like spawning
coral in an ocean of lysergic neon.
I disengaged my interstellar avatar
and turned to Ziggy, tuning his
Flying V guitar, and said …
“I don’t know art,
but I know what I like.”
He just looked at me kinda sly,
and replied . . .
“Man, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”
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gifted children in Placebo Town
are placed in cardboard boxes
and stored in the dark
8 hours daily
slow children are given intensive training
so one day they can govern
bicker with adversaries
bicker amongst
themselves
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permit us to praise
mental activity
that consistently
breaks with reality
awake but closed off
in a dreamlike gift shop
praise the joy of chemical song
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I once took a trip
on a magic carpet
but it turned out to be
just another dirty rug
Aladdin
my main man
and casbah pimp
refused to give me
my money back
He said I could go rub
his magic lamp
and talk to his Genie
Aladdin really is
a punk and a thug
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“True life is creativity, not
development: it is the freedom for
creative acts, for creative fire, rather
than necessity and the heaviness of
congealing self-perfection.”
~ Mikalai Bendiyaes
“Art is not a mirror held up to reality
but a hammer with which to shape it.”
~ Bertolt Brecht
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the newly discovered
the imaginable unknown
are not avenues in Placebo Town
bacteriumlike organisms live there
they are increasingly complex and controlling
bringing abundant grief to most preexisting life forms
God resides somewhere in the corporeal and mortal body
people sing to Him, bless him, petition him out on Sunday
Jim Morrison loudly proclaimed, “you cannot petition the Lord”
often intoxicated and not in a scientific manner, Jim was a Mysterian
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Mysteriosis
was the exact diagnosis
that had me expelled
from the Placebo Town School of
Deportment and Higher Conciousness
The headmistress at that PTS of DHC
did her best with me
As a result she is now under arrest
and I’m being tested
for bacterial immunity
along with several ferals protesting
against compulsory gravity
Meanwhile
the doors of perception
at the Honeymoon Hotel
are all slowly opening
The No Vacancy sign is flashing
as the Defacto Bacterium is spreading
It now covers the entire spectrum
between heaven and hell
What exactly is an altered state
and which pill
will make America again great
no one can rightly tell
as the Fairy Queen of Oblivion
who takes just like a woman
has broken the reality spell
She now fakes
when she makes love
just like a fairytale demon
My Big Bang Theory;
A sound mind is a gift from heaven,
with the built-in option
to trigger the occasional explosion.
In the Garden of Eden
self expression was the done thing,
with all of creation there waiting
upon your endless stimulation.
“The fiddler, he now steps to the road.
He writes ev’rything’s been returned
which was owed
on the back of the fish truck that loads,
while my conscience explodes.”
~ Bob Dylan
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sad to say
they test you
and your DNA
goes on an index card
your most primitive fears
are then known and calibrated
the Beast will come to town to bargain
he will take everything and leave nothing behind
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At the Honeymoon Hotel
my helix was double crossed
with a fix straight from hell
and then spliced with a piece
of alien dental floss
At great cost to the boss
I got to break that spell
in the land of the lost
where a lamentable mutation
is condemned to endless replication
generation after generation
always wishing to get back
to that Garden of Eden
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I spoke to Yoko this morning
she said that dreams are prisoners
that escape the censor ward of the brain
she was happy to have been brought to mind
that all that John and Paul stuff was pure crap
when it came time to butter the toast, the best dong won
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Yoko sang to me this morning
She just kept on repeating …
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fears
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
The rich and the poor ones
The war is so long
I think she’s missing John
Like she’s just waiting
for him to join in on the song
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specialized to be sensitive
who has time for any dynamic balance
parallel interpretations of John and Paul
wet Yoko thighs
convincing
but
factually incorrect
the myth of intercourse
her large brain stem down there
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The world had it backwards
Okoy was no boy band toy
Duly rewarded with riches and fame
for keeping the Egg Man
from reaching for the Kingdom
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friction creates images
that move through
coherent narratives
(masturbation movies)
nothing arbitrary
memory banks are rigid
artistic naughty thoughts
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Meat offered to idols
with Idle hands
Grand Slams
played with tennis balls
Singles or doubles
An overhead lob
when baseline nature calls
Lonely days approaching
Long nights encroaching
like a succubus in tights
It’s a dangerous yet enticing job
poaching in that
Garden of Earthly Delights
Hieronymus
is now anonymous
for the crime
of lacking grace
after being photographed
without a mask on his face
Meat offered to idols
and whatever is wrong and right
is private business
and a matter of conscience
As the Walrus said once . . .
Whatever gets you
through the night
Don’t need a watch
to waste your time
Don’t need a gun
to blow you mind
Do it wrong, or do it right
It’s all right, it’s all right
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dung on the clubhouse floor
do it right or do it wrong
sodomy night
all tissues
gone
baby wipes
consummating
in brown and black
nothing psychoanalytic
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From penthouse to truck stop
all placebophiles are welcome
at the Honeymoon Hotel.
You can book a room for an hour
as you’re checked in with a grin.
So why not stay for a while?
You are sure to leave
with a smile on your dial.
The night manager, and his
combined staff choir, take
great pleasure in singing an
assortment of Broadway hits
for their overnight guests.
This time of year, if you’re lucky,
you might just hear ‘Away in a Manger’.
One of the night porter’s favourites.
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“IF THE DOORS OF PERCEPTION
WERE CLEANSED, EVERYTHING
WOULD APPEAR AS IT TRULY IS
. . . INFINITE.“
~William Blake
Imperfection is beauty, madness is
genius and it’s better to be absolutely
ridiculous than absolutely boring.
~ Marilyn Monroe
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Yoko said, “I am a woman and I offer the least access to my vulnerable interior”
with the lights turned off
the male genital squid goes unseen
one tentacle is longer than the others
the average length is six inches
many fall short at five or four
destination, the blind stab
nothing on autopilot
THE HONEYMOON HOTEL LOBBY
coffin-bound grooms
sexual scenarios
exaggerated
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Deep Fried Calamari
served with the head chef’s
secret recipe aubergine relish
is a house specialty
at the Honeymoon Hotel’s
luxurious rooftop
revolving restaurant
It’s an acquired taste
Some guests find the dish
rather revolting 🦑🍆 🤮
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many times Adam asked
God to look the other way
so many things
are more complicated
than the simple vision
the Reader’s Digest Pocket Bible offers us
one finds themselves on the escalator
of endless questions —–what life could be
WHAT LIFE COULD BE
punishment on the weakest among us
cold and hot and all the teeth falling out
minutes, hours, days trying to walk
a bedroom pillow in my shorts
the complete Torah
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The slow consumption
of the amplified version
or the quick enema of a
condensed Reader’s Digest
Life is short in long pants
and vice versa
Life is an art installation
constantly seeking
the source of transmission
Stale words of stone
tasting like death
and bad to the bone
Words written in flesh
living and fresh
from the celestial zone
To request a de-escalation
at the behest
of mind alteration
is to accept the fate
of tribal engineering
Time to break loose
like some goose given
a pardon by the President
of the United States
The body is weak
May the spirit stay willing
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the pardon came from somewhere else
the President is just a servant
dung beetles keep him
in motion
taught that reality
was confessional
and photographic
life is confessional
life is photographic
my shoes are so large
my life is geographical
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a rumor going around
that humans are floating
in tin cans in outer space
they are trying to grow radishes
more likely doing witchcraft with sex cells
“don’t let your children grow up to be astronauts”
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the purgatory of consciousness:
men and women floating in the oceans of outer space
mere inches from the wretched Devil and his bed of flames
they who perform their witchcraft on the sex cells of tomorrow
fancy death-strokes on the keyboard that knows not the Natural
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Yet another variant
of the Placebo Virus
has been detected
in the Human League’s
Pangalactic Oval Office
A mutation fully armed
and extremely dangerous
Against it’s ammunition
of corruption & division
even the Super Heroes
of Placebo Town
are completely helpless
in the aftermath of it’s
cellular infiltration
May God help us!
Merry Christmas 🎁😎
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Placebo Town with its loathsomeness
a swamp of squalid poverty
open-eyed corpses
shoplifting
a variety of interpretative levels
volumes about the bridal night
“18yrs and older”
ID mandatory
an ice skating rink
with a hunter-and-hunted theme
the significance of a large area
with no corners
was not lost
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Happiness is nebulous
in Placebo Town
where existence within
the grand collective apparatus
is certified to the beat
of shuffling feet
and is measured in inches
The only hope is to escape
to the distant fringes
since the given choice
is an On/Off switch
often mistaken for freedom
by the bitter and the sweet
as defacto reality is binary
endlessly stuck on repeat
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this Christmas they dug up
all the dead bodies of Pink Floyd
so they could perform the classic
“STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN”
at least one astronaut
wore a red cap and fake beard
he couldn’t recall all the words
to the beloved Led Zeppelin tune
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YESTERDAY BEING CHRISTMAS
I spoke to a variety of people
an old space travel buddy
who always brings up
the exercise pills
prior to sleep
we took EPs
they were experimental
30 minutes into snooze city
and one would find themselves
jogging or hiking or both
the motion brought
extreme pleasure
sometimes
it was all too much
we had to wear odd condoms
so any ejaculate could be collected
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The White House
was granted an amnesty
for the sole purpose
of finding pure ecstasy
but at 12 seconds to midnight
on the Christmas Shopping Clock
all I could come up with
was some organic lubricant
and one slightly used space cotton sock
(the one Mick uses to wipe up with)
The other was lost
in the hotel laundry
(I suspect the night porter
kept it as a trophy)
When it came to inaugurating
yet another First Lady
I just didn’t have it in me
Four more years
of lock down laughter
and contagious tears
may prove to be deadly
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aleatory or destiny
upon the tumbling dice
of a swirling votex
regardless of whether or not
I’ve been naughty or nice
Saint Nicholas always has
a gift wrapped surprise for me
I can’t help it if I’m lucky
He once gave me a key
saying to use it anytime
to break free of the monotony
of mindless mediocrity
It’s no crime
to reach for the sublime
unlocking a higher reality
whilst keeping both feet
on solid ground
despite the disapproving frowns
from the tamed slaves
and the timid clowns
of that horrendously squalid
Placebo Town
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one thing about trying to hike
in your sleep in outer space
it is too easy to sink
into the humors
of nonsense
scientists
constantly trying
to measure contrasts
between dreaming and waking
they asked silly questions without answers
would I elaborate on the sameness within difference ?
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once I got the hang of taking EPs
I would visit an empty Eden
no people or animals
just a lovely forest
a jungle in harmony
where rocks fondled trees
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If only . . .
Adam and Eve
had got to stay
for an extended play
with no need of a saviour
to get them out of hot water
The trevails of a misplaced
space cotton sock
Time off for good behaviour
after the trial of the century
(and every after epoch)
at the Supreme Court of Infinity
Thank God they had
a very good lawyer
Mick Jagger should’ve never
promised them
the stage lights of eternity
without the pleasure and pain
of a death defying rebirth
There is a very good chance
that Eden will be seen again
when God restores
the whole earth
and gives it to his children
of the reanimation
as an infinite inheritance
beyond even
the Egg Man’s imagination
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I saw a sign once
on the path to Eden
“YOU ARE BEYOND THE REACH OF METAPHOR”
there was evidence
that at some point in time
a new novel had been fashioned
from dinosaur bones and old literary patterns
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(sometimes I would overdose on the EPs)
Eve would spread her legs and say,
“stick it somewhere between simplicity and insipidity”
lust and base propensities
were a splendid treat
for the sleeping
astronaut
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It’s a fine line
between limp and lust
To fly like the wind
even with
a wing that’s bust
In the Garden
where true passion is a must
all will become a new creation
In this I truly trust
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I went a tad bit overboard with the EPs
running was my weakness
to travel great distances
in almost no time
minus the wings
THE RESPONSIBILITY
caught up in
being me
(I asked Santa for joyful momentousness)
the contest of Christ and Satan
a snowball fight
somehow forced
on reptiles and apes
the harrowing of hell
the good Lord down there
his human nature on the cross
(outer space with its silence and loneliness)
a handful of EPs and I was in motion
my favorite pillow mothering me
saying, “Sweet Michael”
with no voice
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Placebo Town
full of litter and garbage people
clocks made in China cannot be repaired
religion in Placebo Town is a waste of want
the tree of life lost, the water of life no longer flowing
A WASTE WILDERNESS, a perfect home for devils and demons
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in the dream
fruit from the EP tree
refused to touch the ground
when perfectly ripe it would float
upwards into the heavens for angels
(+)
the December issue of Reader’s Digest
seems to suggest that Adam replaced Satan
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TO INFINITY AND BEYOND
Buzz Lightyear
was the first casualty
of the war against abnormality
We all shed a tear
when Jungle Jim did him in
He’s a real buzz kill
and certainly no Sheriff Woody
Now … I just can’t buy a thrill
For such a crime
it’s high time
to go shoot that son of a bitch
(who looks very much
like Ronald Reagan)
that low down yellow bellied
deputy from Placebo Town
Is there never to be any joy
a happy ending even
to this tragic toy story
called Neolistic Prohibition?
The only reason I could find
was too much surrealism
could possibly send you blind
according to the controlling
algorithm of social engineering?
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there was a contest in Placebo Town
“repair a clock made in China”
an old man came from Switzerland
he left a defeated man
Satan held up his end of the deal
he passed the baton to Adam
said, “you have a stab”
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How do you mend
a broken heart?
How do you fix a car
manufactured in America?
How do you stop the stars
from falling down?
How do you repair a clock
made in China?
There is never any winner
nor answers to be found
in Placebo Town
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I hear the ticking
of a Chinese clock.
The only one still working
in the decadent West.
It’s constant whispering
is driving me crazy
saying . . .
“I’m counting down
the seconds, the minutes,
and the hours.
Get ready as I’m coming
to Placebo Town to take
back those fortune cookies
that you stole from me.”
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opening soliloquies
a protagonist displays
his enormous sexual organ
a limited number of characters
floating in tinfoil USA spacecraft
what once I was and what I am now
the unfrequented country roads galore
purchasing homemade meth from locals
leaking pee just thinking about doing some
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“A leaking nocturnal emission
is no admission of sin
when trippin’ in outer space.
There’s a naughty succubus
who likes to hop aboard my rocket
and ride like Sally Ride
into a sky high orbit
around the Planet of Pleasure.
Being a soldier of valour
It’s all very innocent.
Whenever I ask her why
she just answers kinda sly
that she likes it very much.
Who am I to forbid it?”
~ Major Tom Knightley
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who can say
what Galileo saw
through his telescope
(+) foreknowledge of the creation’s triumph
the contemplation of evil
grade school chest hair
girls and boys
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the Pope was secretly recorded having a hissy fit
someone at his table was eating cottage cheese
with bright red ketchup on top
Diane Arbus
asked permission
to journey out in space
but big wigs were afraid of her
perhaps her sex life or the photographs
or the simple truth of her gender
no secret that female astronauts
are really males in disguise
dongs on daily display
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“Abe Lincoln-
tell them how hard it is
moving a deceased penny.”
~ Aubrey’s Arch
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he foreknows what you will do
like you are being handed
your daily coupon
no matter you follow your course
causality after causality
you think of yourself
as an artist
recurrences of bad tendencies
children from bad seed
space-travel through
education and
maturity
(+) he foreknows what you will do
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I went to the police station
and told the gentleman
that I should be locked up
that I came from bad seed
and I harbored
bad tendencies
an adult who colors
and jabbers poetry
an adult who thinks
of himself
artistic
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The Chinese ambassador
came to my door asking why
my clock was still ticking
well past it’s three month warranty?
I just couldn’t tell him
It is a complete mystery to me
He then asked for it back
offering me a replacement for free
That’s when things got real ugly
as this new model
has facial recognition technology
I now regret ever having got it
Every morning
Instead of telling the time
it rates my social credit
according to my state of mind
which I now know
is teeming with thought crime
Apparently I fluctuate from …
TRUSTWORTHY PATRIOT
to AVERAGE IDIOT!
Somedays I’m just
an UNTRUSTWORTHY HERETIC
My only complaint is
with this new clock
I’m always running late
for my re-education class
Is this what they call poetic justice?
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behavior toward others
that increases the flames
in a lesser known area of Placebo Town
cruel people discard the woman for the egg
the heavy investment required of them
the opportunity to escape harm
how much more difficult
could it possibly be
the predators
search for
the scent
cruel people discard the woman for the egg
any commitment of resources or material security
often based on shape of the nose or thickness of the lips
the size of the breasts or the width of the hips
not to mention the cackle or the crow
(+) the local librarian pointed to hostile gossip
she confessed that the books were full of it
hostile gossip and moralistic aggression
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Father Abraham
said I was heaven sent
so always stay strong
The Serpent said
I was just an experiment
gone horribly wrong
So I chased that dragon down
a rabbit hole in China Town
and kicked the gong around
Somewhere above ground
Marc Bolan was singing …
You won’t fool the children
of the revolution
as a Chinese clock
struck midnight
without making a sound
marking the end of the beginning
Happy New Year, Michael 🙏 😎
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back in the caveman times
when Elton John was sort of a pretty boy
Jethro Tull had “Thick as a Brick”
Marc Bolan was a pleasure
school kids did pure LSD
15 varieties
windowpane (yes)
reality was no longer reality
God help anyone looking in a mirror
a lot of laboratory shorthand
farmers sitting in their cornfields
listening to the corn sing
a full variation in expression
entire villages cruising back roads
listening to Neil Young or the Doors
smoking low grade pot
$15 oz.
booze was unknown
diet pills, handfuls of White Crosses
hip people swallowed Black Beauties
smoked Panama Red, $35 oz.
loons collected roaches
for “generational” joints
————–
————–
Happy New Year, Mister David Redpath
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Memories
In the burnt out basement
Of my mind
Misty watercolour memories
Of the way we were
Scattered battered brain cells
And jagged little pills
Left far behind
Thrills we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be
That it was all so simple then?
Or has time snorted up every line?
If we had the chance
To do it all again
Tell me, would we?
Could we?
(Not very likely!)
Memories
May be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply to choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
~ An Hallucination
of Barbara Streisand
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memories are unwelcome
people go to great lengths
to separate themselves
from memories
(cemetery: a motel of memories)
re-creating the past
over and over
eviscerated
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Much like herpes
there is no known cure
for nostalgia
In the sensorium of my mind
through a blur
of rebellion and beatlemania
the past is a petri dish
full of alien bacterium
Yet the future is a magical well
in which to make a wish
Choose wisely
and make it a good one
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born and raised in a Neanderthal household
forced to shed tears and endure dark hours of defeat
prescientific peoples caught up in sympathetic magic
the family tree overloaded with deviations from the optimum
life was too poorly understood to be broken down into a narrative
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Some call it a derelict slum
To others it’s an grand mansion
befitting an aristocratic clan
The House of Neanderthal
is situated right in the middle
of upmarket Placebo Town
A continuous line of ascension
since the the days of Babylon
has arisen from under it’s floor boards
to wear the Royal Placebo Crown 👑
and rule without compassion
over the subjugated hordes
Never take what isn’t freely given
from King Neanderthal the Sublime
as he’ll rip you a new one ⚫
where the sun don’t shine☀️
… In a right royal fashion ✊
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sad news: They forced Led Zeppelin to play “Stairway to Heaven”
to open the new year
the poor devils chained to the past
good news: it is a perfect tourist day outside
the giant Christmas tree made from sand
attracts out-of-towners
I’m on my second cup of Italian coffee
the night porter left his best wares
Mick and the boys are on the tube
1973 and he is looking light in his $700 socks
the guitar players are humping their instruments
Mick is doing his rooster thing on stage
one wonders if he is wearing a pad
to soak up the seed
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The Neanderthal Strain is big
in the Placebo Town Rock scene
caught between the buttons
of an electric nervous breakdown
All street poetry and testosterone
performance art and fellatio
to the beat of a pounding bass sound
Charlie doing his thing
Bill and Keith pulling strings
Mick pouting and spouting
Desperately seeking attention
Looking for a reaction
Searching for some action
If you see Mick’s little red rooster
please don’t drive him home
He can’t get no satisfaction
He’s bad way down to the bone
and you’ll never break
that rolling heart of stone
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only love is capable of realizing any resolution
death and eternal blessedness in 2021
the headstone is set
no more climb
triumph
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Love is all you need indeed
if it comes wrapped in truth
and with a slice
of the bread of life
That taste test of the best
a heavenly rock candy
of great cost
freely given to you and me
Space cotton socks
and fairy floss
will surely make your feet
and teeth rotten
Love is all you need indeed
Truth is truly a love revolution
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holding hands with myself
love that is stronger
than all bitterness
sweet beyond
sweetness
2021
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“For last year’s words belong to last
year’s language, and next year’s words
await another voice. And to make an
end is to make a beginning.”
~ T.S. Eliot
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“Throw away last year’s words and start with next year’s words
is a sure recipe for disaster. Reality starts in the middle not the
beginning or the end. Thus one doesn’t have to ask which came
first, the chicken or the egg.”
MM
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Placebo Town totters
it bends
yet it stands
plenty of avenues
for a writer’s imagination
to explore and amuse itself
to hell with the germs of tragedy
freely dabble with instinctual drives
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The good folk of Placebo Town
do manage to keep the trains
running on time ⌚🚉
I just wish they’d cease
the endless child sacrifice👶
and all that book burning 🔥📙
And they think being a vegan
a environmentalist is a crime ⁉️
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erupting from the heart
of the simple man
his crown
and
majesty
the New Penis
lying on his back
in the classic Christus pose
rising heavenward the Holy Erection
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ERECTUS DUPLICITOUS ;
A Master Class in Political Correctness
Under my thumb
The girl who once
had me down
Under my thumb
The girl who once
pushed me around
It’s down to me
The difference in the clothes
she wears
Down to me,
the change has come
She’s under my thumb
And ain’t it the truth babe?
Under my thumb
It’s a squirmin’ dog who’s
just had her day
Under my thumb
A girl who has just
changed her ways
It’s down to me
Yes it is
The way she does just
what she’s told is down to me
The change has come
She’s under my thumb
Ah, ah, say it’s alright
Under my thumb
It’s a Siamese cat of a girl
Under my thumb
She’s the sweetest,
hmmm, pet in the world
It’s down to me
The way she talks
when she’s spoken to
Down to me,
the change has come
She’s under my thumb
Ah, take it easy babe
Yeah
It’s down to me, oh yeah
The way she talks
when she’s spoken to
Down to me,
the change has come
She’s under my thumb
Yeah, it feels alright
Under my thumb
Her eyes are just
kept to herself
Under my thumb, well I
I can still look at someone else
It’s down to me,
oh that’s what I said
The way she talks
when she’s spoken to
Down to me,
the change has come
She’s under my thumb
~ Mick Jagger/Keith Richards
(who now both claim these
were yesteryear’s words)
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she lied when she said that white men taste like clouds in coffee
white men enmeshed in their own neuroses
lacking basic tenderness
just like dear old dad
a wrecking ball
sitting on the curb no longer safe
in my white man protection plan
sorry I wanted my love today
and not tomorrow
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David Bowie singing “Black Heart”
(not “Blackstar”)
going so far back
that Eve has a tail
melodramatic video
people on the cross
but it is an insult
no longer human
Bowie’s heart has turned black
sinners claim that they see a black star
but it is just an average black heart
a dime a dozen in the junkyard
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what was it the thieves came to rob from Little Bowie ?
record sales like the obscenities spoken at the Deity
hiding at great distance, life in the shadows
knowing death was this hour, this day
unclothed but only to the waist
the abundant kisses absent
BOWIE on the tombstone
it was all superficial
Black Star / Heart
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something greater than a piss pipe
trophies to memorialize his talent
naked with Jagger
scars that can’t be seen
romance
with its percussive shudders
the astronaut with no lower half
how many times
are you going to call him Shorty ?
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Get Shorty
is my favourite
Danny DeVito movie.
It doesn’t take much,
but Gravity is my favourite
Sandra Bullock flick.
Speed doesn’t really
do it for me,
despite Keanu Reeves
being thrown into the matrix,
and Dennis Hopper
being an original Easy Rider.
Fast and Furious?
I just can’t get into it.
They should make
a conjoined sequel
‘Get Shorty on Speed Fast
and Furiously Hitting Gravity’!
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the astronaut was shot as a youth
“no love for you” bullets
how many times was he penetrated ?
later in life he discovered that his skull
was jewel encrusted
later in life he discovered that his girlfriend
was gifted with a tail
(@somewhere, someone deciphered the mysterious cancer)
Hell Eternal, Hell Central, 24hr warm welcome
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President Trump holding hands with the Hermaphrodites of Israel
a real holiday in Hades they say, the loop of children crying turned off
a meal of rotten fruit with bitters and sand in a mite infested bird’s nest
those the farthest from heaven, long naked of their flesh, “sorry, next time”
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residents
of
HADES
find humor
in the weirdest things
today’s gem:
the Hermaphrodites of Israel
trying to cross their legs
———–
———–
humor cannot brush aside
the heavy air of Placebo Town
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Those Hermaphrodites
of Israel carry a heavy load.
According to my research,
they took off with most
of King Solomon’s Gold.
They now own a luxury
penthouse in Fort Knox,
where they pump big iron
and parade in pretty frocks.
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David,
just got mail from you that wasn’t from you.
It was near perfect.
???????
why would anyone go to all that effort ?
(kind of scary)
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It’s Summer Holiday season
here down under, and all us
good little Vegemites have
been released from lock down
for good behaviour. Some have
gone to the coastal spawning
grounds, but I felt the World 🌎
deserves a measured dose of our
Placebo Town conversations 😎
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