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 decisive setting down of experience
pulled apart by death
I got a wing
he got a wing
separate individuals
in the same skin
but readers
wanting the
crisis moment
him gone
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AN ENTIRE TRIBE OF BOY SCOUTS SODOMIZED HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
a few sizeable members but nothing in the category of the mailman
both familiar and strange, modern sodomy
(+) Americanized (+) Parisianized
hobbyists in your younger years
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talk
that the facts and material
stored in the library
are ready to fall away
riders in the heavens
ready to mount for battle
all those who feel good enough
they find themselves not good enough
multiplicity in the shadows
completeness and perfection
washed away, destruction first
(+) the boneless multiple cannot stand
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THE ROOM GREW SILENT
the agent mentioned “speaking voice”
questioning fictitious characters in poetry
sensitive individuals living a near-solitary existence
Placebo Town famous for its large number of politico-religious poets
landscapes of priests on ladders fumbling with key rings
backward glances at the nonstop sodomy
operating at the truck stop showers
some say, “soul-satisfying”
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I was told that her breasts
were suction-applied
living literature
extremely
tight underwear
that housed chocolate bars
soft brown memories
accessible infancy
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I was told that the hotel had ramps
that I could roll just about anywhere
advised to stay clear of the pool deep end
guests loosely gathered in the lobby
every hand held digital snapshots
dirty secrets, soiled bicycle seats
erections cooing and gurgling
unbuttoned buttocks
nothing swaddled
bareback
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the gentle water
beneath thy feet
flow over us all, Adam
wake the Lord, advise him to function
tell him that Eve is with child
the gentle water
beneath thy feet
Israel in the paste of Creation
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physical qualifications for the pursuit
a rod and a hole
penetrate to an egg timer
be penetrated likewise
knowing it is counterfeit
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if one hears the wolf horns
it is too late
(bellow like a bull)
every production
Romeo and Juliet
carried away on stretchers
observant no more
the Rabbi carries strips of newspaper
in his pocket
leaden shoes in the latrine
nervous agitation
keeping the diddle finger clean
dialogue with the hand
biomechanics
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arrested at gunpoint
temporary female company
from the entourage, one girl ape
gift-wrapped flesh
visible facets
I said that she was Liz Taylor from outer space
a Rolls-Royce with chubby thighs
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I was warned by the night porter
that I might experience
the wolf horns
“just ignore them”
bad advice I thought
how does one ignore wolves ?
it doesn’t take an old gypsy woman
from a Hollywood movie to predict disaster
vulnerable addicts and lovers should remain indoors
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Howling Bull,
my Cherokee shaman,
would mix powdered wolf horn
with peyote, corn whiskey, and
a mushroom full of psilocybin.
He told me it was a cure
for toxic masculinity,
so to drink plenty.
I protested that I was a feminist,
but he just laughed, saying,
“When the horn is master
predation be your destiny.
So drink up, sonny,
from a cup overflowing
with the power of fertility.”
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when the horn is master
(+) predation be your destiny
(+) diarrhea on the floor
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I must admit
that sour corn mash
made this acolyte regurgitate
(not to mention the psilocybin).
Howling Bull said, “Do not to worry,
it is a reaction not unusual,
but now drink deeply another cupful
as the Great Spirit of Creation
patiently awaits my beloved disciple.
You must taste Eden’s apple,
and leave temporarily
the skin of your earthly body,
to travel the higher reality
if you truly wish to see clearly.
May you unravel the snare of disunity,
and forever be in harmony
with the manifold singularity.”
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the Trump handbook
warns against Manifold Singularity
“we survive by the coarseness of soul and fiber”
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The Manifold Singularity
has been known to knock many
off their feet, as it carries with it
the epiphany of Instant Karma.
The taste being diabolically bitter,
yet angelically sweet.
Manna from heaven
is full of spiritual fibre.
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detached and virginal
Mary begged the Lord
to break the hold
he had on her
privates
(+) a grip as tight as a miser’s fist
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Pointed threats,
They bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool’s gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying
~ Bob Dylan
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Adam had no fears of a womb-like cave
no vagina strangulation
no dreams of being a small child
holding the reins
of a pure white pony
in white socks
and pony shoes
(+) later in earth years a famous doctor
would write about Adam
holding the reins
to his erection
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Doctor Who’s
Tardis is much bigger
on the inside
That Time Lord of Gallifrey
is always up for a ride
on the temporal side
Those wild wild horses
could never drag him away
from my television
The Science Fiction
Space Jesus
for every citizen
of Placebo Town
who’ve forgotten how to pray
“Please Doctor Who
come save us
an alien invasion is going down!”
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future purchases at the Dollar Store
efficient forms of sentience
the check-out lady was impressed
“YOU ARE A GENTLEMAN OF NORMALCY”
the cold tablets made one
increase exponentially
rather than incrementally
to step out of the Testaments
to cease to be well-behaved
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male humans equipped with single-shot rifles
(+) God made Adam for himself
(+) God made Eve for Adam
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Adam’s nipples
raises the thorny question
was he just a lonely singular
roaming Eden’s garden
desperately seeking satisfaction
or the original multiple
awaiting Eve to pluck an apple
on the event horizon?
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day after day
the wolf horns sound
the man with the scythe
growing thin
librarians weighing vowels
and measuring dongs
QUALIFICATIONS
inner voices trying to push the penis out
one sway of the scythe
peculiar urges cease
rhythmical labor
and a bucket of seed
love sexualized
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“Someday the earth will weep,
she will beg for her life, she will
cry with tears of blood. You will
make a choice, if you will help
her or let her die, and when she
dies, you too will die.”
~Hollow Horn Bear
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“come Daddy, come to charm”
a baby egg in the House of Love
constantly pushing the stray out
without apology, the happy flow
whispers of immortality
ventriloquial farts
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In Placebo Town
the predominant sound
is a subservient falsetto
that emanates from it’s citizens.
Like retro disco on viagra.
The signature vibration
of incomplete mutations.
A condition known as puberphonia.
Fortuitously
I found the medicine man
Howling Bull
out on the Cherokee reservation,
playing poker at the casino in Ramona.
After my initiation
he dealt me in, saying,
“Only a fool goes back to Placebo Town.
No one is born to be a crazy horse or a
hollow horn. The spirit man needs no
war paint as he dances with destiny.
So make a stand to the very last hand.”
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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
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the process of verification
another and another
the backbone snaps
fruition in the cemetery
each and every creature
SOLITUDE
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raped a thousand times
with the scent of every man
each violation filled with jism
spit from the serpent, the man snake
verification has yet to arrive
history openly creeps about
an aggravated creature
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you visit yourself
you return to the past
yes, life has been cruel
family members speak of love
your pockets turned inside out
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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
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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
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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
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HONEYMOON HOTEL
best keep your eyes shut
when your tongue is active
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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
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weaving in together four or five superficially unrelated themes
poetry workshop considered it a success
when words gained a voice
a vocal performance
that might encourage
the reader to produce a thought
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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
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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
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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 ♾️ 💛 ✝️
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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
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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
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circumcision
employing the farm tractor
to peel a penis in one unbroken spiral
(+) President Kennedy was proud of his clip job
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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
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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.”
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she said that if I heard noises down below
it was because she was having work done
her privates were immobilized
she couldn’t feel a thing
like a toothless snake
with no rattle
the beauty
of the
thing
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Leonard Cohen
lyrics flung out as provocations
prescriptive cultural judgments
the fly swatter introduces itself
a wrong attitude toward nature
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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
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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
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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?
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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 🚀
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snippets of pop songs stolen
that’s what I hear
they pull out their Reader’s Digest Bible
and go to town with former #1 songs
articulating
the pull of spiritual weigh
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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?”
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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
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the foretaste of death
ice melts slowly
inside gives way
to the outside
the memory of Noah
is constant
as a Multiple
I suffer the loss of access
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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
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the stubborn soil
spits me out
over and over
this I’m told is a foretaste
the path but a sequence of steps
that deliver me to my disobedience
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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
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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
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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
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exactly on target—————-the audience goes wild !!!
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MULTIPLES: the plurality of God
like God but not identical
God was the big cheese
God is the big cheese
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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
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the enemy outside
praying that you don’t die
for in death, rebirth is the secret weapon
confrontation with and victory after
confrontation with
and victory after
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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 🙉
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under surveillance night and day
machines and people
never a face
or a name
there were curious whispers
about any man zucchini size
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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
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people on the avenue
like instant coffee
with saccharin
talk
disposable income
yes, if only such a thing existed
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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
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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 ?
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how one knows that they are void
once all chores are finished
incredible sex will happen
you find yourself outside
watching the dog poop
night after night
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‘… 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
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persist in sinning
an eternity of servitude
without any means of escape
the soil will vomit you
should you hide
in the grave
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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
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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
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I know about the surveillance
the church outside the church
downbeats and wrenching off-beats
young people rap and jabber religion
Jesus pulled out of storage
no mention of his brother
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the doctor wasn’t shy
he bleached white people
free of shadows
he bleached white people
up high and down below
he robbed one little boy
years of birthday kisses
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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?
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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
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