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 
do other people pretend to be you ?
because it set my computer security to flashing lights
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There is an Aussie Drag Queen,
Courtney Act, who’s been working
on a stage show impersonation,
but she just can’t perfect the walk.
I was going to email you advance
copy, so you could do a revised edit
of previous comments, but I had a
rush of Bloggery Fever. Next time 👍
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I was confused
females waiting in line to become males
that would have nothing to do with females
males waiting in line to become females
they’ve been told to date men with small dongs
to fear any form of self-protection
just lay naked on the sidewalk
and ask strangers
for an extended episode
Walt Whitman would roll around
and celebrate himself
Male Headed Walt
“not only do yourself
do others”
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“I’m going to tell Mom that you are putting yourself
in a nondominant gender role”
the patriarchal marriage parade
the endless production of children
outside
the gates to the city
the remains of witch-burnings
a great reality check
equal ownership
unconscious patterning
poetry justifying itself
a childhood without witnesses
abused, turned inside out
—————–
—————–
(+) a great reality check: equal ownership
(+) a great reality check: you have no idea
how “equal ownership” could be used in a sentence
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Here in the colonies
we use the word
… ‘Commonwealth’.
It’s a nod and a wink
to fellow tribal members
in reference to the lands
we stole from someone else.
A team of true blue winners
with good reason to rejoice.
Any complaints from
the losing malcontents
are duly documented
and then left upon a shelf.
In this wide brown land,
where men are men
and the sheep are nervous,
the pioneer’s wife
knows what side of the toast
to spread the butter on,
to keep herself nice,
and of course,
how to serve a Sunday roast.
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the librarian wants a reward for all the humiliation
she and other library staff
experienced after sprucing up
the remains of a witch-burning
————
————
knowing that the library kept the books warm at night
we would slip in through a window
and sleep in comfort
yes,
there were spirits and ghosts
but no E.A. Poe passing gas
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to be born
the church raped backwards
rushed to the top of a mountain
struck down from above, struck hard
a new nature far worse than the hungry stomach
what little perfection spoiled, gave way to overthrow
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Hypocrisy on the right
Heresy on the left
the law of superstition
asking for obedience
a simple blaspheming virus
got the honkers wearing masks
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peace loving malcontents
wanted “Ziggy Stardust”
written on the breastplate
but times—- far past that
inner connections
Daddy, Son, Spirit
expressions silent
a reworking perhaps
both Testaments
under attack
the head, the tail
the salvific roles
no child can recall
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however dreadfully disguised
everything seemed a blessing
fixing and then unfixing love skin
harsh conditions from the thicket
advancing a little, pass the rim
the possibility of reproduction
too much for the average man
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them male lions
them male elephants
they ain’t getting no sleep
reproduction sax
boy, that horn is blowing
“Honey, I trouble you no more
I was croaking now I am croaked”
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Bob Dylan knocked for 5 minutes
he left a message at 2am
“Honey, I trouble you no more
I was croaking now I am croaked”
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skin pouch or no skin pouch
she had to leave
a hundred men had fingered her
an indulgent mood
she claimed
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everyone at the party
looked like Simon and Garfunkel
but no one had the sound of Lennon and McCartney
young people too lazy to dance almost too lazy to stand
dopers were consuming “Chattanooga Choo-Choo”
there was a line of men waiting to finger someone
another group in the bathroom
having been fingered
were trying to make
it stop
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Trump turmoil today in DC
all fun and games
till justice enters
stupid people
99 years
prison
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They sure are
going to miss him
Jungle Jim
out in the Ozarks
and the trailer parks
where the necks are red
where those commies
and café latte sipping lefties
are all better of dead
Till Jungle Jim
is allowed out of the box
the Democrats have prepared for him
to do it all over again
they’ll no doubt
turn to Mike Pence
for some Ku Klux Klan lovin’
Southern fried chicken finger lickin’
Placebo Town deliverance
played nice and slow
like a dualing banjo
God help us!
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appearances in Vegas:
THE PHOBIAS
ANXIETY DISORDERS
PANIC ATTACKS
of Michael
one thing about friends
the undertones of silence
have taken a backseat
puberty at the Polo Lounge
half sentence sex
accumulated
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“Have fun at our Black Jack tables,
son. But your latino friend there,
he ain’t welcome.”
That’s what the pit boss
at the Placebo Town Casino said
whilst pointing his gun at Zorro,
my Mexican companion.
I didn’t bother to ask,
but I assume the reason
was that Zorro was wearing a mask.
Such a pity
as Zorro is particularly good
at card counting,
for which he has
a well deserved reputation.
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my friend, “the other guy”
went to Vegas and found love
little evidence of personal taste
she walked around topless without notice
he had a slightly bent poker and it made her sing
you know you’re family when friends openly make sex
bones in a tenuous envelope of flesh
leaking seeds forced to explode
between fantasy and reality
I could embroider
really embroider
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some say that the only difference between Vegas and Placebo Town
was the Hebrew curtains and the smell of semen
nightmares about human seed on the tongue
jism savored slowly as it is swallowed
upside down with an open mouth
(+) future cannibal
(+) future gay
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a life modified by drugs
strangers loaded with
psychoactive substances
poppers and numb choppers
narcotics essentially complete
a life modified by nonstop sex
relatives and strangers
reach-a-rounds
wheelbarrows
hips and lips
tits and tats
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That reminds me of something
Lou Reed once said . . .
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the famous bootleg Empire State Building
in uptown Placebo Town
Lou Reed like a modern ape
scrambling up its sides
functioning on brain-stem
was it the drugs ?
or something more sinister ?
Darwinian vestiges of earlier times
complete with exploratory behavior
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Lou is the Patron Saint of my
subterranean epicurean order,
Brothers of the Velvet Underground.
I had been diagnosed with a rare
disorder, Discophobia.
The Brothers claimed to have a cure,
which was to do nothing at all.
Being a New York punk
who dared to wed Joan of Arc,
only a good lawyer could save me.
So I hit the mailine out of town.
Things were getting rough.
Long Island was no longer
long enough,
as Joan had put the pedal down
sending the French army
marauding across the border
and into Manhattan.
That Empire State Building
was the first to fall.
Next … the Twin Towers.
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there was once an investigation
into fraudulent Lou Reeds
Placebo Town had three
the real Mister Reed
packed a derringer
and proudly sang
rock and roll
under false
pretenses
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The real Mister Reed
was born a thousand years ago
He sailed the darkened seas
on a great big clipper ship
along with Andy Warhol
and Zorro … my Latino amigo
All carefree seafaring chaps
going from this land here to that
We all put on our
sailor’s suits and caps
and got away from the big city
where a man cannot be free
with all the evils of Placebo Town
But Mister Reed fell overboard
and now he just can’t be found
I’ll forever miss the way he dressed
and his Rock ‘n’ Roll Animal show
Did Lou ever make it to dry land?
I guess that we’ll never know
Oh, I guess that we’ll never know
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dark corners unexplored by biographers
corrosive acid removed the fingerprints
scissors attacked the Beatle length hair
having no fear of another man naked
perhaps a knob larger-than-life
both puritanical and frisky
Lou Reed autographing
HIMSELF
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Caroline says . . . to go
down the Velvet Underground
you must first go up on trip
and then take the last exit
over the transgalactic speed hump
to the Placebo Town precinct car park
An Elvis Impersonator
(Or is he the real deal, who can tell?)
will be there to greet you
and show you to your room
at the Honeymoon Hotel
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memories of classmates
chewing the fuzz
off deer antlers
the desire for
the giant
dong
the school system with its violent constraints
zipper spiders in the locker room
with a measuring tape
talking up a half inch
the boss dick
can kiss
himself
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multiple means for egress and ingress
the trees laugh about it
excretion was the butt
of many a joke
unshaven
humor
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the Honeymoon Hotel
known for its comings
and goings
and rumors of those
who check in
but never check out
waver to lust
in a hail storm
or under a truck tire
waver to lust
while painting
a portrait of the Virgin Mary
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When I find myself
in the Honeymoon Hotel
some succubus comes to me
smearing words like lipstick
… Let it bleed
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those romantic moments with their fragmentary details
women with powerful magnets in their privates
the marital edifice held together
the neighbors with their fancy fence
row after row of money trees bearing fruit
poor people cried one way
rich another
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I sat in the cheap seats
for a magnetic encore performance
Lolita couldn’t have been sweeter
Enough to make the Jagger stagger
Forbidden fruit always tastes nicer
when it comes with a bit
of street swagger
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perhaps street swagger can purchase personal existence
so many fruit trees and yet so privileged
to meet you with your hungry hand
yes, Jerusalem remains true
hairsplitting no mistakes
subdivision city
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one law in the mind
another in the member
nothing can cover the nakedness
that which is judged so unacceptable
(@) the hurdle of street swagger scholarship
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selling tickets to a club
that offers street swagger
a manipulate colony of night cats
baby got a pressure cooker
with no return necessary
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Cool like a night cat
in an Americana Refrigerator™
covered in fridge magnets
Souvenirs of sweet dreams
amongst the cheap seats
Amazon the Wonder Barbarian
Arnie the Terminator
and the Placebo Town librarian
doing the meat and greet
for some hair raising exfoliation
A most unholy threesome
It beats white water rafting
down Death Valley
or even the Grand Canyon
without any clothes on
The Honeymoon Hotel
is always a powder keg of fun
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married men risking everything to finger what they have fingered before
to finger something new and different, perhaps tighter or warmer
or that vibrates to a different degree
to survive the pressure cooker
(@ to finger and not return)
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A heavenly stairway
or a stifling straight jacket?
The snare of a religious racket?
Who can say?
A life sentence
with no possibility of parole?
Yet, with the the right cell mate
marriage can free you
to meet a much greater fate.
It can nurture your very soul.
Marriage is what two can make it,
as it creates a binary whole.
Or it can bury the impulsive,
and the imprudent,
in a very deep hole.
So be wary of who you marry,
or else you’ll pay a heavy toll.
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all the young man could say,
“it sure beats white water rafting”
neglectful of the details, pound and pull
the seed on his hairy stomach, badly shuffled
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the honeymoon was like
pressing the clutch to the floor
yanking on the shifter till the horn blew
children spilled out
and what an adventure
birthday cake once a week
till puberty rode into town
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When Puberty Came To Town
is my favour B. B. King song
It gave Bono such a boner
he just had to sing along
All full of desire for Gloria
But he still hasn’t found
what he’s looking for 👁️⚡👁️
Sadly . . . he never will
in dirty old Placebo Town
Where love is the drug
that does the junkie tricks
like some poor two-bit whore
and drives many underground
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going-to-town
JAYBIRD nudity
rubbing A-cup nipples
between forefinger and thumb
ruts near her crotch
the pink sinkhole
—————what was it when it lived in the estuaries ?
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An Alabama Free Bird 🐦
Watch out for them big
swinging guitars 🎸
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the guys at the pool hall
were checking out the new issue
of “Elephant Milk Jugs”
I wasn’t surprised at the size
or the shape or the location
YOUNG 99%
NOT YOUNG 1%
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the night porter dropped off his cousin
she was smoking men as if they were cigarettes
the smell of hair burning like home
she was commenting on who
produced the items
that Adam named
(+) God started birth and couldn’t stop
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the night porter with his sky diamonds
Adam starts to question
his relationship with God
experiencing reality
and relating it to God
(+) actually giving names to turds
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night porter
got paid $5 a hour
to attend social events
and calculate willfulness
females on the upright path
snap your fingers snap your toes
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Not being an apex predator
with a member
beyond measure
I did my own reconnoitre
at the Placebo Town
Batchelor & Spinster’s Ball
None could accommodate
nor afford
the Porter’s night rate
None could pay that heavy toll
It would make you cry
all the poor and horny
hung out to dry
endlessly seeking
that special soul mate
in a town without pity
Many are just left
to curl up and die
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inexcusably idiotic mind freeze
in a room full of humans
who mistake photography
for reality
no camera is fast enough
to capture a single moment’s complexity
images are cheap Dollar Store rubbish
the real thing, that takes something Holy
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” … and I guess I just don’t know.”
~ The Real Mister Reed
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the night porter
he knows about the capture
the capture of a single moment
a moment captured from time’s continuum
the beauty of the woven rope
people holding on tight
yes, brother holding
on tight
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NO NEED OF A CAMERA
The Night Manager
is the main perpetrator
as the porter proudly plays
the surreptitious facilitator
Too late for the malignant
and the recalcitrant
those guests who’ve already
taken the elevator
that random flash
that illuminates the hotel lobby
from reception desk to eternity
The most stubborn
and forlorn shadow
in the shade
of the deepest hollow
the price of a soul being sold
at the end of the rainbow
with it’s pot of gold
the spell of power and glory
and every other lie
you’ve ever been told
all exposed with acidic clarity
Far too soon for some . . .
as an overnight stay
at the Honeymoon Hotel
is a slide show
of both heaven and hell
with a complimentary
foray into bedlam
So be completely sure
before you ever come
that all your doings
have been well
and truly done
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“before you ever come
that all your doings
have been well
and truly done”
——Redpath
for $5000 he will show up to your church
come in a covered wagon with two horses
sisters possible for the motivated
the money talks
with force appropriate
pressed down hard
abundantly wealthy
get sodomized
in a Chevrolet
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I am not the night porter
but he is never far away
once I got too close
God said, “look away”
an empty reflection now
simple thin outlines at best
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I once saw
the Night Manager’s
handy work
in the window
of a butcher shop
It was
a kaleidoscopic trip
through the reflection
of a first class looking glass
I soon went vegetarian
But then
to survive the harsh
Aussie outback
where protein is scarce
I then went carnivorous again
(Actually, crocodile is quite tasty!
But I drew the line at kangaroo,
emu, or koala.)
Life on Planet Earth
is a series of compromises
. . . I guess
Yet I find this Selfie Culture
and it’s Economic Cult of the Vulture
just way too intense
not being an apex predator
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I see it everywhere
meat, dead flesh
“how that get there ?”
I ask
I say
some dirty dealing
MURDER
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at the front gate
they question
your romantic
artistic tendencies
they drop you down below
serious chitchat with sodomy
half the year freezing, half on fire
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You will never be the same
After that laser flash to the brain
Not even a Buddha Bowl
Full of lentils, organic greens,
And whole grain
So popular in Placebo Town
Can bring you back again
To that altered state of slavery
To wear the ball and chain
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Led Zeppelin wearing the ball and chain
just ain’t the same thing
pistol-popping
in a man show
the Truck Stop was open today
hairbrush spankings for the first 10
they took my temperature
I was at 94 degrees
they thought bad
of me
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LOCATION: HOSPITAL
they took
my
temperature
94 degrees
“not good, do you feel cold ?”
I had to keep my mouth shut
finding it difficult to wear skin
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94 degrees
and my life is a train wreck
“Lady, don’t go looking none too close”
I wanted to be me
but it was increasingly growing more difficult
what was the night porter slipping me ?
(+) all the word tools put together into the “Language of Michael”
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outside the nest:
treachery and uncertainty
European underwear in a European sports car
the dong strategically located
feeling lucky in a no-win
eight minutes may not be that long
but eight inches is a great introduction
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Is there a bustle in your hedgerow
whilst I was detained in Moscow?
I took the risk of a Russian arrest
after landing hot and heavy
in the back seat of a ’57 Chevy
The novichok had finally worn off
after drinking that cocktail molotov
Being an opposition leader
in the former USSR ain’t easy
I just couldn’t stand there silent
and take it in the rear end
like some cheap Gorky Park whore
as Putin slipped his dictatorship
into a compliant Kremlin
He’s sure got a lot of gore
and nerve agent galore
that autocratic Russian gremlin
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reality through childhood
everyone has the
same memory implants
an audience every second of your life
life is a performance, simple or complex
what suits your particular talents
secondary players watch
your every move
watch and learn
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Not being
an apex predator
and unable
to keep up the pretence
I gravitated towards the border
The giants of disorder
all seemed much smaller
with the perspective of distance
I soon found
a ring of confidence
surrounding my very existence
I could never put a finger on it
until I jumped the fence
It was the reassuring voice
of the good shepherd
Jesus Christ
So I made the choice
He took my crooked path
and straightened it’s course
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The Beach Boys and their new hit record:
“The Overthrow of the Government
of the United States”
strangers on the bus speaking dialogue
moving slowly through time and space
citizens of cinema without cinema
key information hidden, repressed
romance out of chronological order
your brother’s wife comes on to you
why does she have to look like Elizabeth Taylor ?
why does your dong desire to be strangled ?
on the outside you think not
but a single wink of a eye
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Life is a beach
back in the USA
especially Florida
where the Toggler Tamer
starring a butch looking
Liz Taylor look-alike
is always within reach
and on reality TV
Two girls on the one bike
Tether me in leather
for I’m the boy who saved the day
by placing a finger in the dyke
My oldest brother
the Little Emperor
and his uber dominatrix
a devotee of the Third Reich
have saved me
from any sibling rivalry
as she is strictly a bitch
I don’t know the mechanism
of sadomasochism
but I know what I don’t like
Ouch❗😎
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the night porter
he offers the false promise
you can be the young Led Zeppelin on stage
all those wild antics, complete guitar frenzy
and God help you, all that wild mind-blowing HAIR
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In the house of the Unholy
the spectre of Anton LaVey
sleeps restlessly
upon Jimmy Page’s couch
where the surf is always up.
Jimmy is such a good host.
In the guest bedroom
the ghost of John Bonham
can still be heard to vomit
after too much vodka.
His rock steady drumbeat
from somewhere underground
can never drown it out.
The house of Robert Plant
grows a root far deeper
into unconsecrated earth
as the May Queen
sprinkles a glimmer
of sweet deception upon it
for better … or for worse.
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the mechanism of sadomasochism
(the educational system)
years and years of pure crap
and no one asks “why”
the shadow of the moon
employment
commerce
social conditioning
and mostly it boils down to babysitting
(not reality but a dream) rubber trees nervous
about putting all those tires on school buses
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I go to the stomach of the dragon
I wait inside the lobby
15 minutes
a hour
I get taken to a hidden guarded elevator
the guard asks me if I came from “outside”
the sound of his voice makes me feel like I’m wearing Jagger socks
I assure him that the real world is going strong
he takes me to 6A but I am to go to 7A
he fails at his simple task
I feel sorry for him
a weak link
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2021 evolutionary flow poetry……….given the circumstances
apes that exercise their ability to symbolize
sex and murder often in the key of red
trying to understand what we know
yes brother, yes sister
understand tomorrow today
50 pounds of kite string but no kite
Bob Dylan with all his theories
about the purpose of streams
and trees
living in fear
that Robert Frost
will take up more shelf space
Robert, please stay in your orbit
an angry heterosexual
his primary mode
his hand
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all alone and falling apart
money in a dozen banks
endless loving
the guys in prison
would say that they
were polishing the Cross
it just seemed really wrong
to combine pain with pleasure
having lived a complete life
no need to cling to survival
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