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 bus full of Chinese tourists
a bus full of flaccid dongs
mental female-penetrators
at one point in youth
masturbation
now
just a visual
a few words on a page
meaningless chatter from a comrade
a ripe-fig vulva, a ripe-fig orifice
our creator’s circle of grasp
LikeLiked by 1 person
a busload of Chinese tourists
who whisper to one another
about moving their bowels
a life-force brought to light
a deeper source than the penis
(the bus driver was nervous)
everyone had a small amount of lubricant
enough for a healthy poop, a slick exit
LikeLiked by 1 person
a busload of Chinese tourists
only one man-sized phallus
the bus driver
pissing on the front tire
it was like he was Mick Jagger
standing there in his glory
LikeLiked by 1 person
A busload of Chinese tourists
aboard the Jerusalem Shuttle
taking them promised Land photographs
dancing to the Harlem Shuffle
Thankfully they let me be
with a jaded oriental princess
A China doll with a french poodle
It was all very chinoiserie
LikeLike
++++++POETRY WORKSHOP++++++
sniffing the crotch of a man
with neck sweat
Elizabeth Taylor the young attractive horse
riding long enough for the jeans to get soaked
trousers so tight they’re illegal on Sunday
(+) unsheathing for the pleasure of others
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cowboy Junction in Placebo Town
a source of paraphernalia
Masculine Firearms
Stetsons and Boots
+++horsemanship+++
in and out of the bedroom
voyeurs watching themselves
masturbate
voyeurs watching themselves
masturbate with others
hard edge males
delicate enough to be loved
hard edge males
loving themselves
LikeLiked by 1 person
spawned in the fumes
of Big Petroleum
the Volunteers of Placebo Town
heroes of a pseudo revolution
watch as the clockwork winds down
on a broken forsaken game
Like a desert mirage
there goes the time
for every purpose under heaven
The confected outrage
of a plastic generation
Pawns praying for the drawing
of a lost Age of Aquarius
but all I can hear is Alex DeLarge
kicking and singing in the rain
The clockwork turning
from green to orange
LikeLike
pornographic wrestling
openly homosexual
handsome men
weightless
touched with shade
final lateness
proud
+++++++++
touched with shade
years of schooling and no one noticed
years of Sunday School without a peep
living willy-nilly
promised delay
promise proud
LikeLike
a circle of gents touched by shade
agonies galore
the full harvest
came up short
infant appetites
at the titty bar
where
female internal conflict
is jammed far from sight
love-making jelly coated
(+) I didn’t actually go in……just up to the entrance
(+) I was so deep I could feel her heart beat
@ loss of self with an intensity of pleasure
LikeLike
++++++NO UPHOLSTERED CORPSES++++++
the world is beautiful
age limit 30
faceless people in the market
boasting
“penetrators never penetrated”
but no one is safe
LikeLiked by 1 person
Passive Aggressive Tenderness
… a boycott on ice
With no wet market in Nazareth
hunger is always a risk
Disneyland aboard a tourist bus
When will the madness stop?
Since the last border the bus driver
is acting all crazy talking to himself
LikeLike
passive aggressive foreplay
daydreams on the tourist bus
Adam with his Mystery Tree
a dong that would obey
in the deepest
darkest
Adam could ask it
to point a path of ease
LikeLike
all sperms return to Nazareth
Chinese tourists on a bus
peeled on the outside
like boiled eggs
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks a whole lot
Multiple Michaels
I’m changing the name
of my punk tribute band
‘The Loch Ness Pickles’
to ‘Reproductive Snot’
in honour of the Sex Pistols
With the name change
we’re sure to win hearts
going fully viral . . . and
shooting straight up the charts
LikeLike
the wisdom of the ancients
eaten for lunch by the tour guides
and a busload of foreign agents
with their thousand-year-old eggs
but too much Confucius
has left the bus driver nervous
dazed and confused
as he drives us to the very edge
being over thirty …
and partly human
I should’ve seen what was coming
Chairman Mao riding shotgun
headlong into a capital conundrum
The collision was deafening
LikeLike
me Momma
me Poppa
could never say no to family picnics
every bite of food was an apology
I was the seed that germinated
given the very best
appendages
father was a stallion
mother, ferocious in the bedroom
++++++destructive creation++++++
reproduction was obscene
behind locked doors
pitch dark with
closed eyes
LikeLiked by 1 person
“tomorrow we’ll take a break”
over a week of constant drain
up all day
up all night
up to no good
LikeLiked by 1 person
the night porter
brings over a remedy
snake bite
snake bite high
up the thigh
after lost contact
one must re-enter
reliance on self
(+) self achieved
LikeLiked by 1 person
wisdom of the ancients
what a joke
eat, poop
reproduce
or pretend to reproduce
only homosexuals masturbate
only lesbians masturbate
heterosexuals hide in the bushes
and rape
HIDE IN THE BUSHES AND RAPE
wisdom of the ancients:
we are the author, text, and subject
of the future
LikeLiked by 1 person
My Scottish punk tribute band
‘The Loch Ness Pickles’
was a surefire pussy magnet
A chance to get out from behind
the desolate suburban bushes
… all proud and upfront
So now I regret the name change
to ‘Reproductive Snot’
Once we were hailed
but now we’re disowned
by our hallowed
highland barbarian ancestors
LikeLike
daydreams about a private place of contemplative joy
reality:
a daily public arena
where the frustrations
line your underwear in sandpaper
you walk about rubbing your nut sac raw
lunges and side-steps and urine dribble burn
LikeLiked by 1 person
the sniffer dogs exhausted
snot trails in all directions
Johnny Law on the prowl
Michael in equals
comfortable
upholstered with narcotics
the night porter
says, “only eat one”
and one is too much
fire-spouts at night
Dragon is in town
I can smell Harlem
LikeLiked by 1 person
women’s genitals
mere extensions of the masturbating hand
frightened homosexuals at the expense of others
the psych tech writes “sodomite”
a thousand times a day
and no one is gay
LikeLike
unsaid or half-said thoughts
heavy corpse-like limbs
being drug around
on television
characters
have conversations
younger folks finding themselves
treacherous grade school theatre students
(+) the knot of reality, contraceptive intercourse
(+) words ejaculated into the mouth and swallowed
LikeLiked by 1 person
Within the space of a breath
whilst playing
in my grandfather’s garden
I was transported to the heart
of Chaco Canyon
As I stepped outside
the wheel of time
my Puebloan shaman
gave me a singular choice
of seven spatial dimensions
saying …
“You must choose but one.
This is the place where
the eagle and the serpent
arise every morning.”
Are you to fly in the spirit,
or crawl in the skin?”
More a simple enquiry
than a Hopi warning
LikeLike
Chaco Canyon is very complex
when one is there
all levels of locals
will donate a story or two
Reader’s Digest tales
Easter Bunny crap
makes me crazy
LikeLiked by 1 person
One of Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy’s
legs was a quarter of an inch shorter
than the other. I was reliably informed
by Town & Country Magazine that
Jackie Kennedy would have one shoe
in each pair affixed with a quarter-inch
lift to its heel. No Reader’s Digest ever
told me that.
LikeLike
praise the heavens that you’re reading the high and mighty
Town & Country Magazine
sadly, chiropractors love to make money from the fact
that 99% of Americans have one leg longer than the other
at one time I had a longer right leg
poor Jackie was constantly aware of social expectations
the need to assume a sexually oppositional position
Jackie was to be the shoe for a male foot
to be penetrated and worn for display
LikeLike
Aristotle Onassis
became the heel
who gave Jackie’s leg
a corrective lift
proving conclusively
that lots of money can
have an uplifting effect
That is if the shoe fits
… of course
No amount of cash
will buy you a bigger portion
No enlarged nozzle for Aristotle
He was no JFK
born with a silver spoon
and a golden shoehorn
LikeLike
autofellatio : curse of the lazy
embarrassingly upside down
3 day old pubic hair
any and all activity
conducted on his own
(+) right before sleep, a voice says, “penis seems
out of proportion”
(+) at the Honeymoon Hotel suite in total
darkness, a voice says, “penis seems
out of proportion”
LikeLike
Town & Country Magazine
the flagship of diluted good taste
is a proud Placebo publication
widely read by those of power
and influence
Whereas Reader’s Digest
is for the condensed
who prefer their light reading
in bite sized portions
Town & Country Magazine
has declared Poetry Workshop
to be a terrorist organisation
It’s a lot to digest
after much poetic regurgitation
but the editor never gets
things out of proportion
LikeLike
Town and Country Magazine
——————-young socialites
——————-cafe society
bubble gum journalism
movie stars with perfect teeth
their daughters exposed like harlots
everyone happy
unlimited funds
fruitcake with real nuts
(+) the editor of T & C magazine, Stellene Volandes doesn’t pack proportion
LikeLike
like mother … like daughter
Town & Country Magazine is
where the country club members
of Placebo Town let their hair down
and make the Sloane Ranger scene
Jeffrey Epstein’s favourite read
whilst interning Ghislaine
Big Daddy Maxwell knew exactly
what that means
like father … like daughter
Pimps and hookers
of the highest calibre
with their nouveau riche customers
and lickspittle lawyers
mounting each other over a pair
of Tres Outlaws’ cowboy boots
At Town & Country Magazine
we’ll all miss her so very much
Poor little orphan Ghislaine
now stuck in the big house
and on Rolex Daytona suicide watch
LikeLike
in a corrupt world
where every saint is a sinner
Jeffrey Epstein
was not granted the right to be himself
somewhere, someone came up with a magic age
when whores were no longer whores but rather children
whores on display
starving children watching the parade
wishing they were whores
abused and neglected children
wishing they were whores
bored and horny children
wishing they were whores
LikeLike
As it is in Placebo Town
a world soon to end
of greed without restraint
where heads is tails
Jeffrey Epstein
was seen as a saint
and his accusers
slutty little criminals
On the other hand
Jeffrey saw himself
as a superior “transhuman”
A blood sucking vampire
with an insatiable hunger
for virginal young flesh
Now that the game is up
with all innocence lost
will he be pleased
to finally meet his boss?
Did he even know his name?
Yes … I have sympathy
for Jeffrey Epstein
along with with all the staff
here at Town & Country Magazine
LikeLike
concern for the wellbeing of others
they subtract
and subtract
and when they can no longer subtract
they discard and start again
cold, brutal, inhuman
LikeLiked by 2 people
giving till it’s gone
loving with a blast
turning right from wrong
waiting to come last
daily dying
to forever live
slow to put down
and quick to forgive
from the perspective
of Placebo Town
the Kingdom snow globe
does tend to look
a little upside down
LikeLike
all the young girls in America
tuned into some nature of media
are overdosed on Epstein and Ghislaine
“pimp momma Ghislaine had that flop daddy squirming”
(+) how many times did they actually have intercourse with Epstein ?
(+) how many times the future husband drunk and rough ?
what a life they lived
here, there, with everyone
a glorious balloon in the breeze
an epic Hallmark card
better than blue cheese farts at a poker game
all the young girls in America
thinking about the rewards
given to the underage whores
a lifetime of money changing hands
a beautiful sound no matter the hour
“may be I should be a whore”
LikeLiked by 1 person
“The only people who see
the whole picture are the ones
who step out of the frame.”
~ Salman Rushdie
LikeLike
“Maybe I should be a whore?
I’ve been giving it away to any
randy boy who’s come to my door.”
“Who says you ain’t already!”
replies a voice from under the floor
“I can see you’ve got what it takes,
and a little bit more. Just think of the
money, honey, and what it can score.”
LikeLike
He went to the Garden of Eden
collected the axe
that slept there
He stood in front
of the witness stand
and asked one question
“are you a whore ?”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Careful with that axe, Eugene
I lost track of it after Noah’s flood
so you never know where it’s been
Once covered with Abel’s blood
and buried deep in hell’s kitchen
where the axeman grinds away
hidden behind a peek-a-boo screen
There Placebo Town’s finest diners
often come to meet and greet him
LikeLike
the need to reproduce
unquestionable
unchallengeable
(+) educated essentialist perspective
my friend works with long-term domestic lesbians
at lunch they discuss women on the look-out:
………………..an adventure outside the bed death at home
………………..a more secure bond
LikeLiked by 1 person
a persistent friend
from the wild side of lesbian
is a friend indeed
I should’ve shown her
more love and affection
but she insisted
there really wasn’t any need
especially after
a taste of her heroin
LikeLike
question of the day:
was I among the last to smoke cigarettes in the backseat of the bus ?
I went to college across the street from the White House
my girlfriend worked a couple of blocks away
we rode the bus together
witchcraft on wheels
bug-eyed on drugs
she who could cast a spell with ease
constantly caught up in the pleasing prospect
LikeLiked by 1 person
it seems to come natural
for some
or is it supernatural?
where on Earth does it come from?
what God has put together
like a streak of rolling thunder
is it a sneak peek
of the Kingdom to come?
I can’t wait to be blown asunder
till that sweet day
all I know
is that love is the answer
in the back of the bus
there’s always something happening
something young
with something green
and a packet of rice paper
but high flying stoner beware
of the tiolet smoke detector
LikeLike
I heard word of
an International Spy Museum
near the White House
over there in Washington
I once applied to be an intern
but they decided
I was some alien communist
a would be double agent
from another planet
in my Che Guevara t-shirt
I told them I only wear it
for a bit of shit-stirring fun
and to annoy the crap
out of those running dog
bourgeois capitalists
but they just wouldn’t listen?
LikeLike
what can you say about a woman
who avoids being seen
in direct bulb-light ?
when the storm came to town
she ran from leaky roof
to leaky roof
lovers, young and old
murky, unclean, suffocating
Baby Doll wearing a diaper pad
LikeLiked by 1 person
it was just the other night
I ended up at some sleazy
kosher karaoke bar
(a busload of Chinese tourists
had coerced me into going there)
and to my surprise
the night manager
was up singing and dancing
along with our bus driver
to one of Placebo Town’s
favourite wedding songs …
🎶 I feel it with my talons
I feel it in your bones
The curse is all around you
And so the feeling grows
I had it written
In the Malleus Maleficarum
It’s everywhere you go, oh yes it is
So if you’d like some head trauma
Come on, let’s put on a show, oh
You know I hate you, I always will
My mind’s made up by the way that I feel
There’s no beginning, there’ll be no end
‘Cause on my hatred you can depend
I see your body before me
Just lying there dead
I kinda get to thinking
Of all the things you never said
oh yes I do 🎶
Just then the lights when out
and the sound system blew
Obviously no one was expecting
a subterranean tornado
Sadly our bus driver
has never been seen again
but the night manager reappeared
from under the rubble
in a rather lovely crimson tuxedo
and was keen to get on with the show
LikeLike
the thorny way
gain or loss
weeds argue
wolf-whistling
at Eve
leaking
baby blood
wolf-whistling
legs spread wide
LikeLike
the very ground
in which those weeds grow
is currently cursed
seeds blowing in the wind
paradise lost
taking a holiday in Haiti
snakes hidden in the grass
all smooth and friendly
with a vice like grip
humanity on dry ice
praying to the economy
as goodness goes on hiatus
to a very nice retirement resort
in a fully equipped slave colony
so … If you don’t believe me
just take a trip to sunny Haiti
you may even find
it beats living in Miami
LikeLike
anonymous trespassing
combination attraction
repulsion
light anatomical kissing
deviant oral satisfaction
behind the stereotypes
almost out of sight
she would park the car
near the subway entrance
strip down
and beg for a better
understanding
(+) leaking from her atomizer
LikeLike
my old dog
gave me kennel cough
my ex wife
gave me hepatitis
luckily for me
I was immune to both
having already died
of feline enteritis
the pussy I caught it off
got to feel
my unbridled wrath
until she meowed
“Enough is enough!”
and my old bog barked
“You’re being too ruff!”
every one had said
I was one anorexic cat
I just thought
they were being nice
as no one likes
to be seen as fat
not even
by three blind mice
LikeLike
who gave the snakeskin-jacketed guy
permission to visit Eden ?
murder darkens the guilt
Eve was a first
having no mother or female relatives
her vulva was perhaps swollen
and brightly colored
one sniff
and religion just became words
floating in the sky like clouds
LikeLike
Chiaroscuro Del Placebo
Who gave the sheep’s clothing
to that ravenous wolf?
That dude in the snakeskin boots?
I always try to look on the bright
side of this most curious life,
at the abundance of blessings
rather than the cavalcade of strife.
Never more than one can handle
when unbeaten against the anvil.
To see a shining countenance,
to find the love surrounding us,
rather than looking up the address
of a transient curse.
To be kissed sky high, rather than
tossed and lost in a deep purple haze.
Through the looking-glass
much big picture darkness
can be seen, yet it comes and goes
like a passing phase, a big dose of zero.
Shadows chasing shelter in the shade
of a counterfeit placebo.
Despite my numerous venomous
inhalations, God has been good to me.
. . . He’s kept me breathing
so I can count all the ways.
My imperfections are temporary,
lost in the perfect promise
of a heaven’s eternity.
LikeLike
the perfection of eternity
one sniff of that vagina
one finger in that hole
wings exchanged
for a dong
LikeLike
shadows chasing shelter in the shade
eternity comes through breeding
bones boiled down to a broth
baby with hungry eyes
big picture parents
doing to others
what the lion
does to the
lamb
LikeLike
counterfeit Placebo, the bride unfolded
the lack of a palpable hole
rendered significant
a new challenge
a cavalcade
of strife
(+) homosexuals remove the exit sign
a cavalcade of strife
grooms circle the block
no one utters a single word
LikeLike
I use to ride
with the Knights Templa
the once notorious motorcycle gang
headquartered at the luxurious
Temple Placebo
Way back when
the Archangel Samael
known locally
as the Head Hunting Honcho
was the leader of the pack
His wife Lilith
was no run-of-the-mill bikie moll
She was fully equipped
to love an immortal to death
Strangely enough
to be initiated as a Knight Templa
meant surviving
a single night with her
at the Honeymoon Hotel
(how I got my Knights Templa patch
is a traumatic story too soon to tell)
Needless to say
the membership soon dried up
In great despair
the Archangel Samael grew a pair
(of wings) and flew far away
so his son Diabolos
took over as gang leader
He’s still raising hell to this very day
LikeLike
the groom returned to the honeymoon suite
happy
no further trespass
27 years of marriage
they exchanged dialogue
but nothing more
she prolonged her childhood
he polished attractive men
constantly falling in love
LikeLiked by 1 person
playing peekaboo
with the mushroom
in his trousers
——————–
MALE disobediences
——————–
subtle disturbances
can go unnoticed
but a yank
or a stroke
and the pepper
grows hot
LikeLike
To Nice Michael . . .
Merry Christmas 🎄
from Alex DeLarge
and all the boys
at the Korova Milkbar 🥛 😎
LikeLike
(+) Christmas
relatives secretly
sharing
masochistic joy
sexual repertoires
gender differences
gifted wrapped
a credit card bill
due Jan. 1
LikeLike
Usery in the U.S.A.
“Neither a borrower
nor a lender be . . . ”
Payday benders
is the national sport
of the proletariat
and the retail addict
That not so cheap credit
is a financial rort
A rich hand
in a poor man’s wallet
Privilege and entitlement
“It’s been an absolute pleasure
to empty out your bank account.”
One man’s treasure
is another man’s poverty
That was the actual theory
behind the credit card experiment
LikeLike
she said that there was a trapdoor
still deeper regions
previously formed conceptions
right out the window
a color of a fold
a color of a crease
lonely and free of foliage
LikeLike
she said that her love
was derived from legitimate sources
any departure from the norm
elicits fear and regret
eternal coexistence
pleasurable pain
LikeLike
the gift of disposability
an existence
plastic wrapped
symbolic symbiosis
regret is a luxury
and very hard to forget
LikeLike
nonexistent personage
constant inaccuracies
touching apologies
love custodian
boy candy
LikeLike
nonexistent personage, The Michaels
sometimes they pop up from the mud
they smile proud
knowing little to nothing
generous with the small talk
giving more than getting
a hand in the pants
rubber-legged
at the motel
LikeLike
On the third day of Christmas
Xi Jinping gave to me
three Chinese raccoon dogs
two endangered pangolins
and a bat from that notorious
Wuhan Virology Laboratory
(obviously an escapee)
with a note saying
“Merry Christmas
You Decadent Capitalist!”
I thought that was very nice
Xi being a godless communist
LikeLike
inaccuracies
the amount given
the amount taken
peering into other people
fairytales
rendezvous with ghosts
no embrace that lot
LikeLike
amount given—amount taken
peering into other people
peering
into their bums
into their pee holes
making small talk
about assembly-line poetry
sex with total strangers
tighter, angrier than the spouse
LikeLike
much like pictures
in a post modern art gallery
buttholes aren’t all
they’re cracked up to be
I often get this feeling
that some dick is taking
the piss out of me
LikeLike
bewildering post modern art
artistic hurly-burly
wounded artists
hordes of astronauts missing limbs
oddly fashioned smiles from strangers
brave souls wrapped in toilet tissue
having rubbed the walls
LikeLiked by 1 person
Finger painting is in fashion
amongst the macaroni artists
of Placebo Town
since the great pasta shortage
brought their jumping castle down
The fallout was so dramatic
that crayons got broken
Even the play-doh was left to rot
forsaken in the acid rain
and unable to be eaten
as all the party clowns
faced imminent starvation
The surviving art underground
arose with a standing ovation
LikeLike
solitary macaroni art on your lunch break
pleasure as an end in itself
pasta art holiday gift
==========
driving and masturbating
dick in hand
why wait ?
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FedEx
got my package
just in time
before the deadline
for a white Christmas
delivery sublime
“It’s not just a package
… It’s my business.”
Thank you FedEx
I even have one
for the Duchess of Sussex
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just what one needs
a pill
to go deeper and deeper
into one self
way past the Michaels
and any chance to be rescued
Life Without Creation:
hemorrhoids, rather than children
petrified semen on the sheets
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There is a place
somewhere between
heaven and hell
where you can clearly hear
the brooding silence
of Ghislaine Maxwell
Just below the surface
beneath the witness stand
the fast and the licentious
are making the most
of their borrowed time
The Universe watches
as the jury decides
if her pimping of innocence
her aiding and abetting
in the seduction of children
is a respectable profession
or a heinous crime
Since Michael Jackson
it would seem to have become
a favourite pastime
of the furtive rich and infamous
not just the diabolically religious
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the delights of shallowness
the dangers of depth
the bottom of every day
is cruel
voyages of love
overhead
(+) whispers float and secrets sink
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at poetry workshop
some excavate
while others cover up
shadows and reflections
of love and hate
from an overflowing cup
with revelations unwritten
every journey is a poem
every voyager a prism
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respectable men wear starving children
as footwear
unhappy that they are uncomfortable
respectable men fill potholes in the road
with starving children
unhappy that they wash out so quickly
respectable men use starving children
as bait on their fishhooks
unhappy that kittens work better
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starving children
make the wheels of industry
go ’round and ’round
Nike and opium
helped China to learn
this valuable lesson
courtesy of Placebo Town
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early morning cradle-rocking the nuts
interior to exterior ejaculation
the poet’s tongue flaccid
wordless crimes
exhausted
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blowing in from the west
a morning tornado rocking
the living in Miami
moving on to the Caribbean
and along the east coast
as a team of trained assassins
from the Halal Poetry Workshop
known as The Fruits of Islam
seeking to strike a fatal blow
are on the hunt for Michael X
Only the Placebo Prophet
and the Weatherman knows
what’s to come next
… so stay tuned
to Mohammed’s Radio
for meaningless updates
from Ramadan till Christmas
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poetry workshop topics:
semen spilt at the gallows-foot
===============
was it God that made a woman a repository ?
===============
straight sperm have nonphysical relationships
gay sperm copulate
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Those Fruits of Islam assassins
after failing their mission
were ordered back to Damascus
by the Halal Poetry Workshop
and thrown off the tallest building
after a brief ceremonial beheading
Never fail the poetry Caliphate
If only those jihadis had gone
straight for their Miami target
the ever elusive infidel Michael X
instead of hanging out at that
disreputable Turkish bathhouse
and smoking the hookah pipe
they’d now be the poetic heroes
rather than headless in Damascus
A fate somewhat worse is being stuck
with a bunch of Chinese tourists
aboard an airport shuttle bus
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thinking about Eve
homesick and lonely
troubled by her reflection
everything sandpapered raw
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