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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2,281 thoughts on “The Tower of Song”

  1. when things were difficult
    to wade through
    I’d whip out my Mystery Tree
    and it would obey
    Home, Home
    and it would point
    a path of ease
    (+) the torment of lust you say
    three stokes to spiritual orgasm
    Royal Jelly, night and day

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “upsetting me sperms
    each with a mask
    of regret”
    any thought of oneself
    an “unbroken spiral” peeled on the outside
    but what about the inside, past the mental sentences
    me Momma said, me Poppa said, the wicked man at church

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “Stop it at once
      or you’ll go blind
      Sperms are only
      short terms
      that squirm
      as you yearn
      and the results
      are so unkind
      Who on
      God’s green earth
      wants more children?
      So pull up
      those short pants
      put on your mask
      or the alien scrotum
      will put you to task.”

      ~ Rabbi Clitsteam

      Like

  3. Prince gives up music
    becomes a lobster fisherman
    drowns on the first day out
    a poor choice of clothes
    a poor choice of shoes
    even in death
    his brain
    was still teeming
    alert to everything
    his body was cold
    but his soul was red hot

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m not so sure about that hairdo
      he had on top when his elevator
      got stuck.
      Not that It really matters, but that
      hairstyle wasn’t exactly the cream
      of the crop.
      In Placebo Town they’d like it a lot.
      A Curly Mo Shirley Temple Afro for
      a muso who’s down on his luck, but
      could still play guitar like a bell
      being struck by opiate lightning 🎸⚡
      What’s not to like? (with the possible exception of that hairdo)

      “More fentanyl, monsieur? No?”

      Like

  4. linguists and sex
    verbatim recall for foreplay
    every malignant thought requires surgery
    a cook is only a cook in his own kitchen
    holy smithereens, it tastes like crap
    the squeeze of religious law
    pinching my scrotum
    upsetting me sperms
    each with a mask
    of regret

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Scotumitosis
      is my diagnosis
      Words like dessert
      that at dinner parties
      like to be outrageous
      and continuously flirt
      Poetry from the alleyway
      that hurts when it spurts
      All symptoms synonymous
      with a life in short pants
      Such as the metal sting
      of Sid Vicious
      mistaken for punk romance
      John Wayne felt the pain
      all alone
      riding his horse
      out in the wilderness
      Ronald Reagan even
      He couldn’t help himself
      from doing it
      again and again
      … with Nancy watching
      Much to do about nothing
      was her White House
      price of fame

      Like

      1. JUST THINKING ABOUT JOHN WAYNE
        every morning when he started his day
        he had to slip into being “John Wayne”
        maybe it was fun, bet not
        people who ride horses
        crotch funk
        ——————every time you take a pee
        people try to spy your dong
        anything less than a foot
        OMG
        he was blessed that he wasn’t a singing cowboy
        inarticulateness, I know not
        did he kiss like Michelangelo ?
        cold marble lips ?
        top or bottom ?
        people mention his walk
        but never how it felt to hold his hand

        Liked by 1 person

      2. life in short pants
        that crazy guy in AC/DC
        with the shaky leg and guitar
        my-o-my, hate to stand near him
        Nancy Reagan with her hand up Ronald
        “GIVE IT UP OR DIE” till the feces flew
        life with its stimuli and corrosions
        family picnics at the Wayne Marina
        trying to bum cigarettes off cowboy John

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Fidel Castro
        and Che Guevara
        come to Placebo Town
        with an axe to grind
        It seems they had
        a vendetta
        and a score to settle
        with John Wayne
        Ronald Reagan
        and some or other
        American
        smoking cowboy
        over the death
        of their good friend
        Liberty Valance
        a lifelong true amigo
        Lee Marvin
        the town sheriff
        told them to forgive
        and then
        forget all about it
        but you know those
        fiery Cubans
        . . . not a chance
        riding into town like a
        climatic
        Caribbean disturbance
        And since the Duke
        can’t abide them
        low down comunistas
        all hell soon broke loose
        in that wild wild west
        known as Placebo Town

        Like

    1. That once pristine wilderness

      where old burnt out hippies lament

      is now a poetry workshop

      next to an interstate truck stop

      full of cowboys and rednecks

      If you’re heading up

      to Brokeback Mountain

      best bring your own tent

      If not a traditional custodian

      or a native of Placebo Town

      be prepared to pay the rent

      when Howling Bear

      the Medicine Man comes around

      or he’ll tear you a new one

      where the sun don’t shine

      Like

  5. Baby Bird are you going to sketch the mercy seat ?
    religious people always say the same thing:
    TOO GREAT TO BE SPOKEN OF DIRECTLY
    no problem discussing the foreskin of Jesus
    that Moses had a rectum on the side of his face
    but “mercy seat”
    Good Lord !!!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. the blue sky is only blue because your brain is alive
    after death the blue sky is just another apology
    the laws about this apology and that apology
    are imposed by force
    (+) many a good man and woman find themselves in
    Placebo Town

    Liked by 1 person

  7. she was the right woman but she had pagan flowers in her hair
    no one can blame you or think bad of you
    death wheedles
    you know
    standing on the banks
    watching good people suffocate
    the river feeds death
    feminists were flagging women
    to the shores of Placebo Town
    “tenderness in our arms”
    a caress or two and down to business
    female spooning safe from the littleness of menfolk

    Liked by 1 person

  8. having come from a dirt-loving family
    a rural area where the dying reproduced
    yes, the men were stallions with their uncut dongs
    the women trained to be ferocious at wrestling romance
    willful exploitations
    obscene love-modes
    the drums beating in the bushes
    protuberant buttocks around the flames
    an obscene religious mystery mocking Christians
    (+) I dare speak of “destructive creation”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Pablo spoke those words
      with the flourish of a brush stroke
      and a splash of primordial insight
      He dared to strike
      with a pocket full
      of the apocryphal
      at the heart of existence
      in that ageless struggle
      to transcend
      and bend the spiritual
      as his instrument became
      his means to an end
      Who will now implement
      with creative intent
      the destruction of the innocent?

      In cyberspace
      knowledge abounds
      with triumphant arrogance
      in hollow piecemeal installments
      Truth
      has gone missing
      Innocence is absent
      and wisdom
      is no longer listening
      as the virus of ignorance
      is rapidly mutating
      Salvador saw
      the rise of Placebo Town
      Picasso bought an apartment

      Like

  9. if only we could hold hands
    we, the seed not germinated
    —————-
    —————-
    it is written in the family bible
    this moment known as “the grand fertilizing climax”
    —————-
    —————-
    squeezed from the loins of reduction
    perverse vitality with a touch of beauty
    —————-
    —————-
    we,
    sterile and idle

    Liked by 1 person

    1. a mercy mission
      to the sweet spot of existence
      TRANSMISSION PERFECTION
      a cosmic experiment
      rising above the squalor
      and that all pervading aroma
      of death and excrement
      to the fabled realm of Valhalla
      where xenomorphs of white marble
      stand straight and tall
      in the hall of slain warriors
      there the proud need no saviour
      MEANWHILE
      cowards and sinners
      must petition the King of Creation
      with a heartfelt confession
      to receive destiny’s true favour
      from the mercy seat
      in the form
      of a born again transformation

      Like

    2. The grand happenstance
      of an egg and sperm race
      coming together over
      a cauldron of providence
      In life’s recording studio
      there’s always a producer
      and forever the artist
      The devil is in the detail
      God is in the performance

      Like

  10. poetry workshop tonight:
    vaginal as opposed to clitoral
    stick shift with its clutch
    Dad told us boys
    that Mother’s sister
    was better in bed
    unsaid or half-said thoughts
    later in life I fingered her
    knowing that my father
    had been there
    I pondered their dialogue
    was it just physical communication
    each finding pleasure in hurting my mother

    Liked by 1 person

  11. I took down your Christmas stocking
    erased your name off the Birthday calendar
    you’ve passed through the gates of self-denial
    welcome to the struggle against sin
    populated with empty folk
    deprivation of self
    and so much more
    Lord-have-mercy
    you got a chance

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Only 127 shopping days
      till Christmas
      and I just can’t buy a thrill
      Thank you very much Morpheus
      I should never have taken
      that little red pill
      Now the Matrix is out to get me
      and the Night Manager
      has handed over my hotel bill
      to a head hunting debt collector
      So … I’m heading back
      to sweet home Valhalla
      If Thor don’t let me in
      I know my friend Loki will

      Like

  12. knowing the skeleton was visible
    the youngest son
    started to ventriloquize
    his father
    using words
    that seemed heavy
    corpse-like
    as if one would find it difficult
    to drag them a long distance
    a conversation with such words
    becomes a funeral
    the Devil is sensitive
    to any conscious movement
    in that direction
    the youngest son
    ventriloquized his father to the point
    that there was no more of himself
    (+) when the detectives knocked on the door
    the door with misogynistic leanings
    the simple pencil sketch
    Mom naked
    covering her breasts
    with folded arms
    her hairy V
    totally visible

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What a story! Earnestly, Michael,
      Ernest Hemingway would’ve been
      impressed. Especially with that
      mother’s part totally visible🔻
      But then, Ernest himself was a bit
      of a closet androgynist, who often
      behaved like a drunken misogynist.
      For that old man and his semen
      suicide was just a farewell to arms
      . . . by other means.

      Like

  13. riding Nick Cave
    as if he were a small pony
    the size of the saddle is hell on the balls
    he’s singing “push the sky away”
    but his heart isn’t into it
    showing no creaturely tenderness
    I twist his ears for all the rock and roll
    could have been praising Jesus
    kissing the feet of disciples

    Liked by 1 person

  14. dexterity with every sin
    a constant display of expertise
    have that bra off your poem in 3 seconds
    you are dealing with treacherous theatre
    verbal debris stuffed in there for volume
    the foundation of the poem
    limited submission

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “If people bring so much courage
      to this world the world must kill
      them to break them, so of course
      it kills them. The world breaks
      everyone and afterward many are
      strong at the broken places. But
      those that will not break it kills.
      It kills the particularly good and
      the very gentle and the very brave
      impartially. If you are none of these,
      you can be sure it will kill you too
      but there will be no special hurry.”

      ~ Ernest Hemingway

      Like

    1. Poets in short pants
      self publishing with vacuity
      their shallow imaginings
      of self punishing romance
      Poetry dredged
      from the endless emptiness
      of a cerulean sea
      where sailors drown
      in a deluge or verbiage
      “Good God, please save me!”

      Like

    1. A multiple question
      requiring manifold wisdom.
      A Mount Everest of a quest,
      satiating Mother Nature’s gift
      to the starving hungry penis.
      You’ve come to the right place,
      as all my Christmases
      have come at once.
      Being sentient,
      the vagina’s button knows best
      when the finger on the trigger is
      wholly, solely, & spirituality into it.
      It’s a tantric (weave together) test.
      Only the lonely fake it.

      Like

  15. you called it a button
    but it was more like an angry hotdog
    trying to escape an ugly knot of flesh
    OMG, I had my mouth down there
    (+) Hemingway just released a new novel written at the Honeymoon Hotel:
    “Up-ended Women and Unpleasant Acts of Love”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I went down to the drug store
      for a milkshake and to meet up
      with the Placebo Town nighthawks
      Ernest was there of course
      with his androgynous piece of fluff
      The two of them drunk with adultery
      I ordered a hot dog from the waitress
      She was just like Shirley Temple
      . . . all short and curly
      always promising a sample
      of her apple pie all the way
      from the Big Rock Candy Mountain
      A slice of trailer trash
      with that certain taste
      of human pastry
      that kinda lingers
      in the trailer park of my memory
      Mickey Rooney was leaning
      against the soda foundation
      talking all brash to Judy Garland
      saying to call him “Randy Hardy”
      But deep down
      Judy knew the hard truth
      that Mickey had no interest
      in Betsy’s booth
      A hotdog all relished with mustard
      left angry . . . and hungry
      The nighthawks of this town
      are always good for a laugh

      Like

  16. the next time
    she,she,she,she,she,
    she,she,she,she,she,
    she,she,she,she,she
    is difficult to deal with
    may be her button has tonsillitis
    ——————
    ——————
    globs of spunky shrewdness on her pillow
    BEWARE
    her shadow prowling around
    possibly looking for prey
    a male to fill her belly
    with seed

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “So I can rhyme
      I snort the line
      through a ring
      of red hot fire.
      Thank you brother
      for sparing a dime.
      That man in black
      the Night Manager
      is no fool
      demanding payment
      in full and on time.”

      ~ A Cash Poor Vague Rant

      Like

  17. Bob Dylan with a Rolling Stone on each side
    singing “blowing in the wind”
    his liver is angry
    and poor Bob is sweating
    serious sweat
    he’s having a hard time
    Keith Richards is crazy with his guitar
    Bob gives Ronnie the evil eye
    they chuckle
    stupid shit Keith
    he’s not leaking a drop

    Liked by 1 person

  18. every day of my life on the school bus
    I waved at a horse that stood in a corner
    near the road, it was without company
    sometimes I could get others to wave also
    I often told myself
    that I would stop
    and feed it a carrot
    sadly, I never did
    I was always in a hurry
    drugs or women
    or drugs and women
    out of control
    bombed
    later in life
    it died and shriveled up
    (+) I still feel the loneliness of the corner

    Liked by 1 person

    1. An unscheduled appearance
      of the ever mysterious
      “Sweet Michael”!
      I’d heard the rumours
      evaluated all the evidence
      yet I must confess
      I was highly sceptical
      of his actual existence 😎

      Like

    2. FROM THE PLACEBO FILES:

      My school bus trance
      was crashed
      by some alien substance
      from the Twilight Zone
      that seemed to enhance my DNA
      with a highly advanced
      extraterrestrial chromosome
      I subsequently lost my grasp
      on abstract reality
      and the power of speech
      . . . temporarily
      whilst I roamed the Universe
      . . . telepathically
      The Interstellar Space Virus
      has totally given up on me
      as I now have immunity
      with cosmic impunity
      Let’s just say …
      the Engineer
      thinks it’s all a bit queer
      and the Night Manager
      . . . he isn’t happy

      Like

    1. The Taliban came here
      looking for Tarzan
      The Caliph has accused him
      of embezzling the proceeds
      of fundamentalism
      I told them if that were true
      then Jane is a lesbian
      and Jungle Jim smokes opium
      After taking all that I had
      including the women
      they thanked me for the information
      and headed down to Placebo Town
      for a Jihad convention

      Like

    1. Mecca-La-La-Land
      is a testament
      to the grand collective lunacy
      Let it be that we
      all get stoned for adultery
      Or how about a bit of heresy
      if apostasy ain’t your cup of tea?

      “Anything the Hebrews do,
      or the Vatican can,
      we can do better
      and a whole lot stricter!
      I am the patriarchal without rival
      doing the work of a hairy old goat
      since religiosity
      has got me by the throat.
      So, have some courtesy,
      and some sympathy, for the devil.
      Let it bleed indeed!
      In bloodshed we revel.”

      In Afghanistan
      I hear the drumming
      I am Charlie Hebdo
      with words unspoken
      Sadly, I am not Charlie Watts
      May the rolling circle
      be not stoned … and unbroken

      Like

  19. “the fullest appreciation of the value of systematic exploration and the testing of isolated hypotheses”
    ++POETRY WORKSHOP++
    “frequent-flyer” status at the truck stop showers
    several complaints of paraplegics and porpoises roughhousing
    if you’re keeping score: rats with dignity and apes with shame
    rather than less
    poets want more of the common taboo behavior
    experimental novelty welcome
    lawfully determined or otherwise
    the flow of saliva is a personal thing

    Liked by 1 person

  20. your family and friends grazing in a field
    at some point they will become food products
    no physical part will be wasted
    their gaze seems interior
    mental windows
    are you casting darkness ?
    their gaze seems interior
    mental windows
    are you a late arrival ?

    Liked by 1 person

  21. your family and friends grazing in a field
    at some point their bones will be picked clean
    you in your fancy vest
    your fancy pants
    living a life
    free of
    excrement
    are you casting darkness ?
    ambiguity
    what does it take?
    you’ve been shown your bones
    your blood, a corruption of red
    eyes closed
    rigid filters
    elevated forms of animal life
    busy shuttling back and forth
    factory meat employment

    Liked by 1 person

  22. irrational activities over rational ones
    layers of concealment
    so you can’t see in
    can’t see what the farmer does
    what the farmer’s sons do
    the nasty work
    of skin over skin
    things that make God angry
    layers of concealment
    so you can’t see in
    what the farmer does with no wife
    what the farmer’s sons do late into the night

    Liked by 1 person

  23. only one rule at the farm:
    NO LESBIANS
    lesbians were everywhere
    female homosexuality was the common cold
    one sneeze and there was oral eroticism
    masochistic passivity at the blink of an eye
    crocheted lesbian camouflage
    darting tongues
    counterfeit dongs
    high school dances with your mom

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My Great Auntie Dot
      was a lesbian
      A great auntie
      and a great lesbian at that
      In a man’s world
      she was a quiet achiever
      who was ahead of her time
      Whenever she came for dinner
      she would tell me stories
      and drink all the wine
      It was always my job
      to keep her from falling down
      Actually her name was Dorothy
      but she preferred to butch it up
      by saying … “Just call me Dot.”
      Since then I’ve never met
      a lesbian I didn’t like
      Sweet Auntie Dot
      she taught me a lot

      Like

  24. an autonomous individual
    suddenly caught in the bear trap of femininity
    feminist sponges sucking up his God granted seed
    who would take the king and throw him to the floor ?
    disturbing levels of meaning/right out straight for all to hear
    you’re trying to cope with hiding behind curtains
    detectives knocking on the door
    neighbors tired of questions
    no one is sure of anything

    Liked by 1 person

  25. murder
    an everyday incident
    why are they tacking on the intensity ?
    horribleness masked behind a mundane face
    the children locked in their rooms
    the wife washing the dishes
    for the third time
    white Anglo-Saxon man brings the past to the present
    puts a period to the end of the sentence and tries to move on
    (+) others around him abandon their rape

    Liked by 1 person

  26. you go hunting
    and 30 seconds before you pull the trigger
    you realize the animal you are aiming at
    is really a classmate from your past
    impossible as it seems
    a fatal mistake
    well-intentioned murder
    reprehensible and damning
    sleeping on concrete
    your future perverted
    moral responsibility
    internal conflicts
    your children run away
    your wife lives at the hobo camp
    no one understands
    wish-fulfillment

    Liked by 1 person

    1. a genetic predisposition
      with no explanation
      just a never ending
      exploratory vivisection
      of the illogical biological
      as time itself stands watching
      and waiting for the nature
      of humanity to transcend

      Like

    2. I must confess
      I shot that Calamity Jane
      The town Deputy then put me
      under house arrest
      but the Sheriff was most impressed
      and soon had me released
      saying …
      “That Calamity had it coming,
      so I guess it’s all for the best.”

      Like

    1. “The Multi-Mortality Syndrome
      Foundation is my chosen charity
      of eventual fatality.
      Fortunately for me the inhabitants
      of Placebo Town give generously.”

      ~ Doctor Scaramouche Fauci

      Like

  27. we don’t have bombs
    but crazy people
    all over town
    wired to explode
    Catholics and Baptists
    sidetracked in youth
    never fully
    developed
    ————
    ————
    with the lights dim
    taste or pain
    lips or hips
    MOMMY
    picks
    lips

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Crazy people with bombs
      a time honoured tradition
      in Placebo Town . . .
      “Where’s the fun without da mental?”
      The message is loud and clear
      with the blood streaming out your ear
      The Petrochemical King
      of Placebo Town wears a green turban
      under his plastic crown
      The end is only now just beginning
      Two score years and no more
      for the destroyer to do his worst
      then the Prince of Peace
      Jesus Christ will be returning
      with a shout and a heavenly burst
      Pray for his endless mercy and grace

      Like

  28. no one knows why
    they name all burial babies, Michael
    at the cemetery all those Michaels buried
    should I take pride ?
    am I the Robert Frost of Placebo Town ?
    outlived the oldest citizen
    burned all those other books
    just an endless supply of my own
    every day Reader’s Digest is on the phone
    begging me to cave in, to sign away my life’s work

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The poor street waif inflicted
      with syphilis by a rich paedophile
      to satisfy his fetish for young flesh.
      Her body used and disposed
      like yesterday’s trash.
      In death there is justice
      In the afterlife, with mercy and grace,
      many will get that second chance.
      The resurrection is just a beginning
      . . . Life everlasting.
      Even for those who never got to hear
      of Jesus Christ.
      God sees the heart, and hold all things
      in balance.
      There will, one sweet day, be justice.

      “We wait for light, but behold darkness.”

      ~ Isaiah

      Like

  29. the great apes
    and the mysteries
    that they serve
    obscene craftsmen
    driven to fly toys
    on Mars
    (+) bright colored protuberant buttocks
    Placebo Town littered with sexual shame
    YOU SHALL NOT REPRODUCE
    the creative dance of sex feeds Death
    PEE AND POOP AND DARE GO NO FURTHER
    no fertilizing, no destructive creation
    wrestle not, lie side by side with the Lord

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Spiritual muscle

      Hope beyond the ropes

      It’s all in the wrestle

      Whiplashed on the canvas

      Or revelling in the tussle

      A whisper in the tempest

      “Stop trying to make sense

      out of randomised chaos!”

      The hostile tenderness

      A fatality of style and grace

      All caught in the headlock

      Of an unsolvable puzzle

      With higher ground

      Nowhere to be found

      And where love is just a hustle

      A time to fight

      Or a time for submission

      Whenever he’s down

      In Placebo Town

      On a mission of salvation

      By means of attrition

      The Angel of the Lord

      Just loves a good wrestle

      Like a double edged sword

      Over an ocean of deep trouble

      Like

  30. burial babies wave at those who journey past Placebo Town
    countless tiny arms above the soil
    each the same, each different
    little Michaels
    guilty of willful sin
    the exploitation of Eden
    dark stars that corrupt the light

    Liked by 1 person

    1. All of Calamity Jane’s
      unborn children
      waved in unison
      as I put her in the ground
      I was left with little choice
      Ever since that shoot out
      in Placebo Town
      she had become
      comfortably dumb
      always demanding sex
      with increasing violence
      I could handle the whip
      and even her silver stirrups
      would spur me on
      to greater heights
      when they bit in deep
      But I could never make
      that saddle fit
      over her childbearing hips
      Calamity will be sorely missed
      Especially whenever I’m angry
      without a safe word on my lips

      Like

    1. I dreamt of seeing Noah
      up on stage strumming guitar
      looking so young
      as he played harmonica
      When the rain stopped
      and the song was over
      he gave a final blessing
      . . . “Long may you run.”

      Like

    1. The military withdrawal
      from Placebo Town
      was a complete debacle
      with bodies all torn apart
      littering the ground
      For professional florists
      and tourists of the dark arts
      it was quite a spectacle
      Not to mention all the
      weapons and ammunition
      left lying around
      Retreat is the final option
      here in Placebo Town
      my home sweet home
      deep in the fundamental
      arms of pseudo country
      where empires come
      to roll over and die
      upon it’s streets
      of grinding poverty
      All those killer drones
      flying high
      in the smoke filled sky
      with a hard rain falling
      There’s no place like home
      so take the second star to the right
      and straight on till morning
      and you’ll awake up
      safe and sound
      in the mindset of Placebo Town

      Like

  31. the spokesperson for
    “Break Free From Pharmaceuticals”
    was found stuffed in a potato chip tin
    Placebo Police Chief Jefferson
    stated that it was clearly an accident
    ————–
    ————–
    that crazy girl from the past
    the one that loved me
    and only me
    the one that begged
    to be penetrated upside down
    said that she could feel my penis
    pressing up against her soul
    that crazy girl they locked away
    well, yesterday she swam up
    said that the boat was too slow
    that she was desperate for finality
    if I had anything left
    I’d best be ready to go

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “As an unpaid spokesperson for The
      Federation Of Free Pharmaceuticals
      I always sleep with one eye open.
      Perhaps I’d better lay off the meth,
      and switch over to opium?”

      ~ Rabbi Herb Hoffa

      Like

  32. don’t know how Dylan stands up
    if the wind is his friend or his enemy
    what he thinks is ordinary
    standing in a pawn shop
    next to the Dollar Store
    a suitcase of guitar strings
    a golden wedding ring
    the money
    self-erasing
    looked small in his hands
    it wasn’t enough to leave town

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Took an untrodden path once,
      where the swift don’t win the race
      It goes to the worthy,
      who can divide the word of truth
      Took a stranger to teach me,
      to look into justice’s beautiful face
      and to see an eye for an eye
      and a tooth for a tooth

      I and I
      In creation where one’s nature
      neither honors nor forgives

      Noontime,
      and I’m still on the road
      on the darkest part
      Into the narrow lanes,
      I can’t stumble or stay put
      Someone else is speakin’ with my mouth
      but I’m listening only to my heart
      I’ve made shoes for everyone,
      even you while I still go barefoot
      I and I

      In creation where one’s nature
      neither honors nor forgives
      I and I
      One said to the other,
      no man sees my face and lives

      ~ Bob Dylan

      Like

    1. I’m not that much
      into country music
      There’s more to life
      than old dogs and pick-up trucks
      and that Keith Urban
      his music truly sucks
      but I don’t think white men
      should be singing rap
      It seems to me to be
      a cultural violation
      like an appropriation
      of someone else’s creation
      I guess Machine Gun Kelly
      and Picasso have that in common
      I would’ve left Africa
      for the Africans
      and Afghanistan to the Afghans
      But then … I’m a stranger
      in a strange land
      known as Gondwana
      There’s a huge rock
      sitting right in the middle of it
      I’ve walked all around it
      but never dared to climb it
      as the traditional inhabitants
      say that it is sacred
      I’m not superstitious
      and rock climbing can be fun
      but it’s just not worth it
      Life is too short and sweet
      to go offending anyone

      Like

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