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 
one would think
that various spheres
of life existed in Eden
Adam, courteous and caring
Eve, loving and full of amusement
God, mysterious and distant
creation seemed like a debt
waiting to be repaid
Adam and Eve had self-knowledge
Adam was witness to being masculine
Eve had witness to being feminine
there were procedural guidelines
God was fearful and afraid
He knew the rule about pets
the Assailant was true to his nature
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walking around naked
so-called weaknesses
in plain sight
each morning
direct dealings
with the deceiver
interaction leads to
transgression
damage and
ruin
Paul on the street corner
warning menfolk about Eve
(+) yank you to hell with your dong
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on the highway of misguided vanity
personal qualifications
requisite
elephant lips
find themselves
painfully tossed to the curb
the tics and mannerisms
nasty things like fleas
Dollar Store
peculiarities
(+) she said, “when you reach down there
beware the mimicking ports, one is contagion,
the other tolerable”
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speaking of waiting on the Lord
speaking of being equal
believers have status
within limits
(+) the yoke of bondage
the Old Covenant life with its exterior skins
here and now clothed in Christ
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equality as bearers of God’s image
good for a chuckle or two
the outer most layers removed
marrow on the floor
who can exercise authority over a man ?
a long line of ducks
an older woman with a stick
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I was once arrested
for reading the poetry
of smiling happy people
all from good homes
all holding hands
I was told if I sold
my rotten old soul
I could have total control
and destroy all their plans
but I was only interested
in dissecting their brains
To solve the mystery
to finally understand
the loquacious agony
of insipid pleasant poetry
and hold it in my hands
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juvenile delinquents toss stones at those who store the most fat
aggressive Christians, hissing and snarling
sleeping and waking patterns
pissed down the drain
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The battle
was fast and furious
as we advanced
on the very gates hell
Tongues of fire
strange and spurious
spawned of desolation
scorched the putrid air
Yet the enemy’s spell
that yeast of the beast
was curiously broken
with words of truth
being quietly spoken
A victory
to be celebrated
was soon cut short
when I discovered
that the wounded
of this Christian army
were to be
unceremoniously shot
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the womenfolk
to males
shifted
commonality
to one of apprehensive distance
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the evening news:
no reports of the primordial darkness
being pushed back
the arts are no longer pleasing
righteousness has a flat tire
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all that was and more
so many others
bound and twisted
the world unable
to achieve the goal
recovery
praying the stream lifted
the water turned backward
Adam says “NO”
Eve says “NO”
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(+) the materialistic middle class were the enemy (+)
a missionary among the heathen
he rubbed his spit on wounds
warning others
that he might
say and do
the things
never
done
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15 minutes after the Ark landed on Mount Ararat
good Christians were killing their wounded
why wait ?
wake up and have pancakes with Jesus
15 minutes after the Ark landed on Mount Ararat
cruising in the countryside with the windows down
smoking pot and listening to Neil Young
happy with the promise of restoration
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High and dry
in Noah’s Ark
I was safe and sound
on the solid ground
of Mount Ararat
where only love
can break you heart
Speed dating was a Jewish invention
Chaos is the synergism
the zeitgeist in the pants
of starstruck romance
the deviant virus of creation
Meanwhile in China
the Ice Mother of Slave Labour
MDA is in mass production
Neil Young saw the needle in the arm
of Tweedledee
and the damage done to Tweedledum
The cookie crumbles
as a golden dragon awakens
Yes … fortune is a fickle friend
here today and then gone again
In Tiananmen Square where
junkie pandas are like the settin’ sun
every Little Emperor wants one
From Mount Ararat you can see
the armies of desolation gathering
Chaos is the pathogen of destruction
Total control of the human soul
is just the delivery system
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Eve standing up there on stage with her newborn
it was a “man”
not a baby or a child
Yahweh had steam coming out his ears
Eve was the mother of all the living
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Christians killing their wounded
the insignificance of life
the Church wanting fresh blood
just think, “THE GREATER GOOD”
the sins of holy people
mixed with spilled blood
make the atoms sing loud
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Eve up there on stage
with her newborn man
whispers in the crowd
about Adam sitting
in the backseat
of disobedience
human wickedness
what was God thinking ?
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God playing judge and jury
handing out sentences
but no mention of himself
offenders get the stick
redefined a thousand times
the consequences of disobedience
the human experience
less than anticipated
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“Christians killing their wounded”
pseudonym for something beyond an atomic bomb
collaboration between the poetry workshop
and the helpful guys at the truck stop showers
orgasms with more electrons than protons
(+) pull out a long spoon and dine with Satan
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Placebo City
where poets gather
and question suicide
TO LIVE OR NOT TO LIVE
deeply personal, why continue ?
the riddle of me : the riddle of you
the stop sign, a question of sensitivity
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the
Now
that is
and what was
once continuous
perpetually previous
with the willingness to
progress beyond the temporal
inconvenience of reality
To be, or not to be?
Life never ending
questioning
Creation’s
poetry
will ever be written
Holy Mindfulness is the key
regardless of a body broken
through all the tears
of a soul forsaken
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through all the tears
a foreskin forsaken
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WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS:
According to the honourable
residents of The Villages . . .
The foreskin is a relatively recent
invention. Prior to the Fall, one had
never been seen. Apparently it’s a
side effect of Adam’s shrinkage, and
the subject of a fig leaf cover up.
In Eden everything was much bigger
and better.
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Adam and Eve found it impossible to be in the NOW
every damn rule to be broken
was either in the future
or in the past
Adam liked to finger his circumcision scars
each thick ring was done in a moment of glory
people whispered terrible things behind Eve’s back
Eve was evil
pleasuring herself
while breast feeding
the first cold-blooded killer
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the inconvenience of reality
I called my night porter
and explained
the humor
behind your
inconvenience of reality
I told him that I needed
something strong
the new legs were
coming out of
the box
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Keeping a finger
on the pulse of Placebo Town
is best done with a prosthetic
via the collective rectum
Butt . . .
remember to never linger
At The Villages
the night porter can be found
working hard at his day job
handing out blue pills
and cleaning up the spillages
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this is your death’s desire
something strong
the sobriety
of your feelings
intense Hebrew legs
fresh from the box, Daddy
(+) “here I am, your night porter” (+)
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In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
True love’s the gift which God has given
To man alone beneath the heaven;
It is not fantasy’s hot fire,
Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly;
It liveth not in fierce desire,
With dead desire it doth not die;
It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,
In body and in soul can bind.
~ Sir Walter Scott
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the fig leaf cover-up
the first red sign of guilt
Eve with her period
Adam missing his foreskin
shrinkage came later with Noah
he could hardly pee standing up
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hobby of the day:
loving men without making love
overwhelmed by thick sex manuals
index after index of particular gymnastics
sphincter muscles of the prophet and the poet
somehow direct conversations to the desired outcome
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the night porter
loving his capacity
to bring surrender
overpowering fullness
incestuous frequency
battling Michaels
a twisted victory
interior squirts
foamy edges
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Under the aperture
of a cosmic scanner
my singular prism
was variegated
by an acidic laser
from beyond
the calibrated spectrum.
My closest contact,
the Night Manager
at Hotel Bedlam,
had already willingly
signed the paperwork
… ‘Do Not Resuscitate!
Please wait, at least, until
the Kingdom to come’.
In the meantime
I rest in peace ✝️ ♾️ ☮️
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RESUSCITATE (+)
resuscitation
is a favorite sport
at the truck stop showers
(some people win the race and never make a lap)
live long enough and pain becomes a pleasure
always that character that asks for more
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I know people hate drug abusers
hate is the perfect cement
I call my night porter
“bring the jackhammer”
break me free from the hate
fill me up because I’m empty
make me happy and love crazy
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gigolo
organ-grinder women
recollections of brothers
boyfriends, poetic fingers
doddering
south of the rose
kiss me there
gigolo
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Despite my written
and repeated
strenuous objections
I was resuscitated
at the Diablo Hotel
solely for the purpose
of a placebo revolution
I somewhat reluctantly
asked Machine Gun Kelly
if he had the time
to join the insurrection
but he was too busy
battling Optimus Prime
who he had found hiding
in Megan Fox’s pants
Is it only by chance
that bad things
always seem to happen
at that Hotel Diablo?
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spontaneous drama at the Honeymoon Hotel
improvised romance, verbal and non-verbal
speculations and misunderstandings
give way to acrobatics
and dexterity
how often reflected in the mirror (?) Groucho Marx naked
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Elephants are on the move
The peacocks are dancing
A virus has been weaponized
and is rapidly mutating
In Placebo Town
Apocalypso is in the air
A monsoon is soon coming
as the clock is counting down
and Elvis has left the building
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they filmed me cutting the machine gun off Kelly
ordinary Kelly with scabs and diseased knee caps
girls and boys turned away
no interest in ordinary
less than no interest
in ordinary
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got a telegraph
that you had been resuscitated
but I went out last night Shadow Boy
never encountered you, not even once
your urine scent was too weak to detect
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That is strange!?
At Hotel Diablo
I did piss myself
multiple times
to the echo
of distant laughter
But then . . .
the Night Manager
always did an excellent job
at cleaning up
any detectable evidence
of my nocturnal crimes
Machine Gun Kelly
may not be so lucky
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back in the old days
$70,000 would provide one
with a strong athletic prostate
to hell with a Night Manager and pissing yourself
to hell with Hotel Diablo and its cheapskate tobacco addicts
I favor the hygienic truth of being far from gangsters and lynching mobs
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If you are
a good old boy
and can swivel like Elvis
$70,000 will buy you
a whole lotta love
and forgiveness
Except if you’re a poor boy
from the wrong side of the tracks
and especially if you’re black
In Tulsa
they still dance
to Jerry Lee Lewis
in the shadows
of incestuous regret
There are many things
they’d much prefer
us all to forget
Goodness gracious
great balls of fire
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Placebo Town: a permanent solution to a temporary problem
syphilitic sand in the hourglass
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Sounds like a car crash
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weeping
around the hospital bed
hungry fingers gripping tight
the cemetery colored in shade
a place where bad things
can happen and do
death drops off
with no return
(+) location:
pepper or salt
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when one questions God
it seems that he is proud of his overhead display
the down below, not so much
you find yourself hiding in the bushes
where you don’t belong
reality remains cruel
you return to comfort
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By the time
I pulled into Nazareth
the Omega strain
had emptied the streets
The spread was soon traced
to a petri dish
that had been carefully placed
in the back seat of a ’57 Plymouth
A bright red Belvedere soft top
… to be precise
The nearby Comfort Inn
was closed for business
and the army had now barricaded
the highway either side of town
Having no choice
I donned a mask
and headed for the local library
where human culture
was in the process
of being cancelled
for poetic blasphemy
and various crimes against nature
Names and places
entire nations were being erased
No mention of my fingerprints
all over a certain petri dish
or that ’57 Belvedere Plymouth
registered to myself
Always careful for what I wish
but . . . I can’t help it if I’m lucky
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I know less than nothing about a petri dish
its contents,
the end of a long and tortuous process
all those mothers who dropped their payloads
single and alone with God watching
animals vulnerable to every attack
the open door of their genitals
perhaps God likes that sort of thing
raw and coarse, blood and fluids
the perfume of birth
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knowing less than nothing about the petri dish
the guards asked me to shut up
simultaneous desire and revulsion
the guilt of their detachment
their mothers, wives, daughters
the awful truth
their means of release
away from home
the use and abuse
of others
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“Folks are usually about as happy
as they make their minds up to be.”
~ Abraham Lincoln
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and I was just a boy
who knew how to operate a clutch
Noah was still afloat
the Germans were crazy at their project
GENESIS
warehouses of soon to be mothers
proud creatures salved with the seed of angels
children that would populate the new world
the future family of Noah
pure stock
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After a fatal incision
of self infliction
I attended the autopsy
of humanity high on LSD
It was a questionable decision
. . . but that’s just me
The event was advertised as
“The Carnival of Carnality
~ Where The Flesh Is Weak
And The Clowns Are Hungry!”
No one was to leave
in one piece
as a consequence
of being alive
. . . and even worse
there was a curse
even the very strongest
could never survive
upon the very ground
the circus was standing on
I now count my blessings
in every circumstance
all day long
Life is one continuous amputation
yet simultaneously
a quest for multiplication
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Hybrids proud and loud
spawned from the wreckage
of Eden’s infamous Lebensborn
Alien knowledge up in a cloud
The war was lost
as Adam and Eve got tossed
The master race under a shroud
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Noah and his family were German
look it up at the library
you’ll find it spelled
differently
The Fatherland
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I asked the librarian
for everything Aryan
She then handed me
just a single book …
‘The Rise and Fall
of the Noble Neanderthal’
Despite being a skinny volume
it had some vital information
… pride comes before a fall
She then asked me
if I was interested
in Q~Anon at all?
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PRIDE MAY COME BEFORE A FALL
BETTER TO TRY THAN DO NOTHING AT ALL
from: “Don’t Bury Me Next to the Sheep and the Lazy Shoehorns”
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the button of self infliction
what a state of affairs
mastery over reality
big man conquers
stirring within
the serpent
======================
immediate consequences
======================
the color red
other thoughts
than the sounds
of God in the garden
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When Adam and Eve
took the fall on behalf of us all
and were duly ejected to Miami
the Night Manager
had a serpent in his hand
mumbling
“Nobody said it was easy.
So don’t you go mistaking
my fine Four Horsemen
for some lame ass
welcoming committee!”
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I went to a concert once:
Neil Young and the Lame Ass Welcoming Committee
rock musicians had so many descendants
they became the dust of the earth
without bone and flesh
no thigh to place a hand
without a holy oath
music became
noise
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they say DEATH IS IN TOWN they say
he washes the color from light
he replaces the hum in your ears
your knees turn to rubber
you are history
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Upon a pale horse
rides an air borne virus
The Omega mutation
has become the permanence
the cosmic fixation
A masterpiece of the beast
All variants are now spawned
from the eye of the Omega storm
Down by the River Ganges
where the dead seek redemption
and the cremations never cease
their is no sure vaccination
as the Omega is holding a feast
Death dances with a Chinese Dragon
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you permit yourself to touch yourself
only too eager to try something new
any potential source of friction
theatrical masturbation
wish-fulfilment
by hand
poetry: incoherent/illogical
the poet strikes up a friendship
loneliness replaced with undefined fear
———————–undefined expectation
overwhelmingly pampered with $79 socks
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it isn’t a germ or a virus
just a silly page
torn from
THE OLD TESTAMENT
a headache and a little discomfort
next day you’re fine, working the fields
snot babies shit their pants and cash it in
billions of dollars change hands
phony television religion
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so many snot babies in the ground
where must one plant the crops ?
snot babies in short trousers
chubby Elton Johns
insignificant wankers
reality photocopied
labeled history
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it wasn’t very nice
when the babysitter
told you
that your skin
wrinkled in a different
sort of way
she should have
said it behind your back
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horticulture
outside the realm
of snot babies and diapers
“you are what you smoke”
the visiting nurse with her inflated lips
a remarkable example of maturity
backs away from a kick-ass buzz
seeming struck expressionless
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The enigma of Omega:
To be full
yet empty
simultaneously
Promiscuously chaste
an outcast of a royal caste
trapped in an endless race
Privilege and envy
the sublime and the ridiculous
surplus and waste
The agony and the ecstasy
at a leisurely hectic pace
Oh happy day
A missionary of anarchy
the heretic of chaos
gone horribly astray
The mission abandoned
to watch
and fight
and pray
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(hundreds of simultaneous problems)
I was going to chat with the detective at the front door
but someone said that Dylan was on the tube
so I tuned into the wrinkly Bob
special correspondent #1
free of regret
but not nostalgia
he was Fred Astaire
Baez was Ginger Rogers
she was the secret antidote
seems God made them confused
Bob and Joan got caught up in flypaper
the sticky stuff of other people
sparkling water gone flat
Bob counting coins
overcrowded
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I sat and watched as one by one
all my enemies were consigned
to the outer darkness.
The Omega has no tolerance
of irreverent irrelevance, and
malignant malice.
There were some, the lucky few,
who had sought and received my
ever benevolent forgiveness.
Even at the edge of reality, there
is shelter from the turbulence.
Repentance is a golden key
to the eternal kingdom, for
how can you send a true friend
to be delivered to utter oblivion.
The Alpha is forever in balance.
The Omega is only the beginning
of the living end.
I have a good friend in Jesus.
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poor Bob Dylan counting his coins
serious like a teenager masturbating
I SAID, “Bob, throw those stupid coins outside.
Don’t count them no more”
I SAID, “Bob, give everyone you meet
a thousand dollars and a pair of expensive socks”
I SAID, “Bob, tell the world that Republicans are shit rags”
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“it’s not dark yet but it is getting there”
poor little Bob sitting in the shadows
counting those damn coins
his hard earned coins
I bought him some pills
for his erogenous zones
I said, “Bob, no matter where they reside
you should employ them twice a day”
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Bob followed the river
and he got to the sea.
He seemed to have got there
well ahead of me.
He blazed a trail
holding up a mirror
in the “Land of the Free”.
His poetry had the power
to set the captives free.
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the residuals
of a self-actualising ego
pennies from heaven
in the Bank of Placebo
with little blue pills
that’ll never cure your ills
so you don’t need a weather man
to know which way the wind blows
not even a coin counting Bob Dylan
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the doctor tried to explain
why Bob was fixated
with counting coins
the desire to drown
in ordinariness
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