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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1,552 thoughts on “The Tower of Song”

  1. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  2. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 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”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  5. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  6. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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.”

      Like

      1. 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.”

        Like

    1. 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.

      Like

    1. 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

      Like

  7. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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!”

      Like

  8. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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?

      Like

  9. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “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

      Like

    1. 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.”

      Like

  10. the poet is answered by a series of allusions
    the lines themselves speak of disorder and desire
    while rich with possibility
    no one can deny
    the wolf horns
    sadly
    the fear of death leads only
    to the continuation of life

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, life has been cruel
      late at night with the wool
      pulled securely over your eyes
      family members swing in the trees
      reproductive skin engorges for battle
      ———————————with your pockets turned inside out
      ———————————Buddy Boy, you got nothing to give

      Liked by 1 person

      1. As a known risk
        to normality
        like fat lava poetry
        in fluent bulimian
        I was red flagged
        to the authorities
        by my very own family
        Work will set you fee
        as it’s better
        to be completely hollow
        than overtly horny
        was the hereditary motto
        that I just couldn’t swallow
        In Placebo Town
        best keep your eyes
        on the ground
        and learn how to follow

        Like

    2. At the Pavilion
      of Moral Obligations
      I was taken to task
      by the Eight Immortals
      for being a decadent wastrel
      Not just for heaven’s sake
      I had to cease and desist
      my life as a footloose rakehell
      forever chasing that fire dragon
      if the Eight were to ever bless me
      with prosperity and longevity
      I had no such expectation
      when visiting the Forbidden City
      let alone becoming the founder
      of the illustrious Zhou dynasty

      Like

      1. The night manager
        kindly provided me
        with a lovely pair
        of rose coloured glasses
        that miraculously turned
        a Ruby into a Rosebud
        lying there resplendent
        in a field of exotic grasses
        I could even
        ignore the rope burns
        and gratefully yield
        to her advances
        A comely goddess
        adorned with a crown
        that brightly sparkles
        But then it all come
        to a crashing end
        when Ruby took her love
        to Placebo Town
        leaving me only
        the shattered pieces
        of those accursed
        rose coloured glasses

        Like

    1. With a worldwide variety
      of variants to choose from
      many find the Placebo mutation
      Cloven-19 X-treme
      too irresistible an option
      As poets dream
      and politicians squabble
      a new improved normal
      has come to town
      That nervous calm
      before a storm of trouble
      No vaccine known to man
      no border wall
      no singular vision
      will contain the contagion
      slowly spreading
      from the Tower of Babel
      to a temporal conclusion

      Like

      1. the lazy contagion
        doesn’t spread out
        it draws its victims
        to the Babel Tower
        PATCHOULI PANG
        (+) pinching fingers
        the squeeze of God
        womanizing males
        foreskin smithereens
        (+) head peeler
        the Rabbi had photos of unbroken spirals

        Liked by 1 person

      2. The Two Faces of Circumcision 🎭

        An incision without a decision,
        just like a baby baptism.

        Or a decision with an invitation,
        like opening your heart to the
        ever loving Kingdom ♾️ 💛 ✝️

        Like

  11. as an outsider
    I’ve been inside
    all those years I looked at your underwear
    you spreading your legs and I was just a boy
    we sang that silly song, “Ruby, don’t take your love to town”
    men called you by many names but I called you Ruby
    you told me stories of torture and abuse
    we talked through the bars
    through the ground
    a thousand miles
    or more

    Liked by 1 person

  12. words of otherness, outdoors and otherwise
    always entirely an outsider
    the drugs and the sex
    a sweet ass trust fund
    a name impossible
    to spell
    (+) the women who refused to return your stare
    (+) the women who kissed but never kissed back
    no turning back during love
    inside, both sides Baby

    Liked by 1 person

  13. AT THE POLICE STATION
    my poetry was taken as transparently autobiographical
    a citizen of Placebo Town
    a condo owner at Babel Tower
    a rabbi with horns
    the changing patterns of a kaleidoscope for a soul
    yes, there were mutinies, betrayals, assassinations
    visuals crystallized out of a saturated mind
    exhaustion, fatigue, teeth clenching drugs
    I love my night porter
    he loves my wealth

    Liked by 1 person

    1. HURRICANE PORTER

      Pablo the Minotaur said,
      “I’m really not sure.”
      The cops said,
      “A poor boy like you
      could use a break.
      We got you for
      the Honeymoon Hotel job,
      and we’re talkin’ to your friend
      Salvador Dali.
      He’s happy to play ball with the law,
      and say what he saw
      go down in Placebo Town.
      But your testimony
      will come in handy, Pablo.
      You really don’t wanna
      go back to jail, so be a nice fellow.
      In the slammer a minotaur’s horn
      can get mighty hollow, Picasso.
      You and Salvador Dali
      would be doin’ society a favor.
      That night porter is brave,
      and gettin’ braver.
      The Night Manager
      has had enough of his
      misdemeanour behaviour.
      We want to put his ass in stir.
      We want to pin
      that Multiple murder on him.
      He ain’t no Jungle Jim.”

      Like

    1. Human hybrids
      bred with aliens
      and fed on
      cosmic manure
      Mother Nature’s
      mutations
      and variations
      Chosen persons
      Bob Dylan and
      Leonard Cohen
      those prophets
      of doom
      and armageddon

      Like

  14. the burning of the Judases on the Saturday of Glory
    ______________________________
    two-headed men begging passage
    Noah with his famous “NO”
    constantly angry
    about living in the flesh
    falsities and pretensions
    as if they were different size pillows
    glued to his bed , glued to his heart

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Gandalf the Grey
      my paternal God Father
      once gave me a mattress topper
      It was called “Nirvana Rama
      … key to the eternal rest
      of a heightened reality
      best found in your pyjamas!”
      After a lifetime
      of blissful stillness
      I got restless
      hanging out
      with an odd assortment
      of dharma bums
      in a dark empty basement
      and went looking for Moses
      out in the wilderness
      where a trail of manna crumbs
      had been left just for me
      Nirvana Rama
      the Pharaoh of Placebo Town
      had no choice
      but to set me free
      Laid out upon pillows of light
      I awoke from what seemed
      like a dream of mystical flight
      Perhaps a soporific gift
      from Gandalf the White?

      Like

  15. would a polite poet write about removing his legs before bed ?
    sometimes oddball lovers get off on the procedure
    the dirty edges, the scars,…………..the smell
    sometimes they take photographs
    but erase them the next day
    large symbolic meanings
    I think not

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Conversations
      in heavenly places
      regarding the Multiples
      of Circumstance
      A wager in the balance
      between Diablo
      on a flying visit
      from Town Placebo
      way down below
      and the Lord of Existence
      At his right hand
      the King of Multiple Chances
      dealing from a loaded deck
      of manifold compassion
      and infinite forgiveness
      Job once won
      that same bet
      with a singular purpose

      Like

  16. communicative possibilities between sensitive individuals
    a situation a minute, uncomfortable context
    self-gathered reality, stable but ever-changing
    God whispering in Noah’s ear
    Noah sneaking things onboard
    Multiples

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Abraham
      dreaming possibilities
      and with visions singular
      from the Great I Am ♾️
      became the father of Multiples
      The queue starts
      over at the Kosher Counter
      Please take a number 8️⃣ 8️⃣ 8️⃣

      Like

  17. self-gathered reality
    poetry workshop
    high school architects
    of prose
    connections made during the day
    ripped apart after sex
    what level of stick
    how many layers
    to shed
    Eve was wet with protoplasm
    the seed of human history

    Liked by 1 person

    1. At the Placebo Town
      poetry workshop
      they all wear frilly knickers
      under their old trench coats
      and recite snippets
      of pop songs stolen
      from vagrant street prophets
      The collective hum goes up
      with never a smile
      as the Placebo anthem is sung
      “Let Us Trim Our Hair
      In Accordance
      With Socialist Lifestyle.”
      A big hit on
      North Korean television
      May God bless Kim Jong-un
      It takes a mighty Rocket Man
      to father a whole nation 🚀

      Like

    1. Nothing new in town
      under a placebo sun
      Thought bubbles rising
      from the shallows
      to be lit up in neon
      by the vanity of minnows
      endlessly self publishing
      I blame the education system
      Those teachers
      giving gold stars
      to any diligent student
      who bothers to hand in
      their homework assignment
      So sad
      grown adults
      seeking a pat on the head
      “Here’s An ‘A’ for effort,
      but since you’ve no talent
      have you ever considered
      a career in Kpop?”

      Like

  18. when they pulled the tubes from the heart
    countless ants ran in all directions
    they were no longer employed
    their call of duty silenced
    (+) unified individuals in a world without unity
    self-taught poets at the truck stop
    bundles of incoherent impulses
    bound to become adulterate

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Now faith is the substance of things
      hoped for, the evidence of things not
      seen.
      For by it the elders obtained a good
      report.
      Through faith we understand that the
      worlds were framed by the word of God,
      so that things which are seen were not
      made of things which do appear.
      By faith Abel offered unto God a more
      excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he
      obtained witness that he was righteous,
      God testifying of his gifts: and by it he
      being dead yet speaketh.
      By faith Enoch was translated that he
      should not see death; and was not found,
      because God had translated him: for
      before his translation he had this
      testimony, that he pleased God.
      But without faith it is impossible to
      please him: for he that cometh to God
      must believe that he is, and that he is a
      rewarder of them that diligently seek him.
      By faith Noah, being warned of God of
      things not seen as yet, moved with fear,
      prepared an ark to the saving of his
      house; by the which he condemned the
      world, and became heir of the
      righteousness which is by faith.
      By faith Abraham, when he was called to
      go out into a place which he should after
      receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he
      went out, not knowing whither he went.
      By faith he sojourned in the land of
      promise, as in a strange country, dwelling
      in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the
      heirs with him of the same promise:
      For he looked for a city which hath
      foundations, whose builder and maker
      is God.
      Through faith also Sara herself received
      strength to conceive seed, and was
      delivered of a child when she was past
      age, because she judged him faithful
      who had promised.
      Therefore sprang there even of one, and
      him as good as dead, so many as the
      stars of the sky in multitude, and as the
      sand which is by the sea shore
      innumerable.
      These all died in faith, not having
      received the promises, but having seen
      them afar off, and were persuaded of
      them, and embraced them, and confessed
      that they were strangers and pilgrims
      on the earth.

      Therefore, since we are surrounded by
      so great a cloud of [a]witnesses [who by
      faith have testified to the truth of God’s
      absolute faithfulness], stripping off every
      unnecessary weight and the sin which so
      easily and cleverly entangles us, let us
      run with endurance and active
      persistence the race that is set before us,
      [looking away from all that will distract
      us and] focusing our eyes on Jesus, who
      is the Author and Perfecter of faith [the
      first incentive for our belief and the
      One who brings our faith to maturity],
      who for the joy [of accomplishing the
      goal] set before Him endured the cross]
      disregarding the shame, and sat down
      at the right hand of the throne of God
      [revealing His deity, His authority, and
      the completion of His work].
      Just consider and meditate on Him
      who endured from sinners such bitter
      hostility against Himself [consider it all
      in comparison with your trials], so that
      you will not grow weary and lose heart.

      Let us therefore come boldly unto the
      throne of grace, that we may obtain
      mercy, and find grace to help in time
      of need.

      ~ Book of Hebrews

      Like

    1. I’m gonna walk across the desert,
      ’til I’m in my right mind.
      I won’t even think about,
      what I left behind
      Nothing back there anyway,
      that I can call my own
      Go back home, leave me alone
      It’s a long road,
      it’s a long and narrow way
      If I can’t work up to you, you’ll surely
      have to work down to me someday

      Ever since the British,
      burned the White House down
      There’s a bleeding wound,
      in the heart of town
      I saw you drinking,
      from an empty cup
      I saw you buried,
      and I saw you dug up
      It’s a long road,
      it’s a long and narrow way
      If I cant work up to you, you’ll surely
      have to work down to me someday

      Look down angel, from the skies
      Help my, weary soul to rise
      I kissed her cheek,
      I dragged your plow
      You broke my heart,
      I was your friend ’til now
      It’s a long road,
      it’s a long and narrow way
      If I can’t work up to you, you’ll surely
      have to work down to me someday

      In the courtyard, of the golden sun
      You stand and fight,
      or you break and run
      You went and lost,
      your lovely head
      For a drink of wine,
      and a crust of bread
      It’s a long road,
      it’s a long and narrow way
      If I can’t work up to you, you’ll surely
      have to work down to me someday

      We looted and we plundered,
      on distant shores
      Why is my share,
      not equal to yours?
      Your father left you,
      your mother too
      Even death has,
      washed it’s hands of you
      It’s a long road,
      it’s a long and narrow way
      If I can’t work up to you, you’ll surely
      have to work down to me someday

      This is hard country, to stay alive in
      Blades are everywhere,
      and they’re breaking my skin
      I’m armed to the hilt,
      and I’m struggling hard
      You won’t get out, of here unscarred
      It’s a long road,
      it’s a long and narrow way
      If I can’t work up to you, you’ll surely
      have to work down to me someday

      ~ Bob Dylan

      Like

  19. Placebo Town
    the path is a loop
    where one can dabble in disobedience
    coated in excess while others do without
    (+) ever-changing circumstances
    “one must reach an end to make a start”
    sailing through flames
    not less than everything
    Multiples have their density
    refined and refined until they float

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I had my fill
      overloading
      on that toxic thrill
      till the Siren’s call
      at the Monster’s Ball
      was no longer poetic
      but hysterically shrill
      Yet I found
      that lost time
      was chronically kind
      leaving dazzling stars
      amongst the bleeding scars
      of a curiously mutated mind
      Feeling
      as under
      some angelic spell
      from the day I was born
      Seeing
      through a curtain torn
      between heaven and hell
      Hearing
      that celestial call
      from beyond
      this worldly storm
      Knowing
      for certain
      the gift of a sound mind
      Tasting
      all creation
      in mid-sentence
      as time itself unwinds
      Now
      I know God’s love
      by that sacred silence
      from way down below
      Believing
      not just because
      the bible tells me so

      Like

    1. Goodness
      to be tasted
      Being dipped
      totally smothered
      and holy covered
      in the Spirit
      is fun to do
      for God alone
      is the big fondue
      Even in Placebo Town
      nothing is ever
      truly wasted
      or lost in blue vein
      as Jesus blesses
      all sorts of cheeses

      Like

    1. Dylan did seem to have a
      pathological love/hate thing
      going on with fans who wanted
      his songs to sound the same
      as he recorded them 🎶👂
      He loved to hate them 💔😎
      and punished them accordingly 🙉

      Like

  20. my friend hooked-up with a woman
    with Tupperware breasts
    pharmaceuticals
    that dig holes
    that’s what
    did him in
    he would talk about the good shit
    and I would think about young breasts
    small ones, larger ones, anything barb free

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Lunatics
      under the spell
      of a total eclipse
      and caught in the gale
      of some Pink Floyd lyrics
      with Roger Waters assistance
      taking the vaccinated course
      of poetic resistance
      I have become
      comfortably
      numb
      All that I knew
      all that was golden
      and all that I stole
      was nothing new
      under a black hole sun

      Like

  21. hostility toward God
    million dollar question
    “why would anything or anyone have hostility toward God ?”
    throw childish Reader’s Digest answers in the trash
    and honestly answer that question
    the truth
    there can be no answer
    _______________
    poets displaying their bruises
    subordinate poets
    being treated like womenfolk
    true humanness
    is it gender crucial ?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ‘… I have of late-but wherefore I know
      not-lost all my mirth, forgone all custom
      of exercises, and indeed it goes so
      heavily with my disposition that this
      goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a
      sterile promontory; this most excellent
      canopy, the air-look you, this brave
      o’erhanging firmament, this majestical
      roof fretted with golden fire-why, it
      appears no other thing to me than a foul
      and pestilent congregation of vapors.
      What a piece of work is a man! How
      noble in reason, how infinite in faculty!
      In form and moving how express and
      admirable! In action how like an angel, in
      apprehension how like a god! The beauty
      of the world. The paragon of animals.
      And yet, to me, what is this quintessence
      of dust? Man delights not me. No, nor
      woman neither…’

      Hamlet: Act II, Scene II

      Like

    1. I’ve put my
      guilty conscience to rest
      as a sure layer of sacredness
      now covers my spiritual nakedness
      Without it I was just a mess
      Time and tide
      a spiralling votex wide
      has truly put it to the test
      as I don’t always behave my best
      To be beset with regret
      is such a waste
      To grapple with the taste
      of Eden’s bitter sweet apple
      is a multiple endeavour
      best done slowly in great haste
      as one meek, humble, and lowly

      Like

  22. I sent a resume to myself
    had no other address than earth:

    Multiple
    @earth

    I started receiving bulletins
    of upcoming deaths
    old school mates
    now on Echinacea and B-12

    one note from Robert Frost on weeds
    lovemaking and horseplay with the hips
    sockless in the Garden of Eden
    no antidote for that
    angels waiting
    the stupid humans would stain the blotter
    Mia Farrow would marry Frank Sinatra
    his dilapidated genitals
    hanging from a branch
    on the Knowledge Tree

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey Joe
      where you goin’
      with that gun of your hand?

      I’m going down
      to that dark side
      of the rainbow
      you know as Placebo Town
      where the mudlarks
      those night plunderers
      and scuffle hunters
      play hard in the dark

      Hey Joe
      Where you gonna run to now?

      Like

  23. May——is it the month of “make me more white than I am ?”
    psychically wounded by Shakespeare and television
    denied the pleasures of a slow adolescence
    reach-around sex with houseguests
    Robert Frost, callous and dry
    trespasser poetry
    poets
    caught up in boundaries
    lovers reaffirming boundaries
    (+) overcrowded love / no place for anyone

    Liked by 1 person

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