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 
talk to me
when men drop their names
bloat with sweetened fang
taking pills to recede
to be unapparent
slow to speak
passive
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Love is motive
Truth is righteous
Respect is sacred
Awe is more
Fear is less
Freedom gives
Hatred takes
Life makes choices
The worst and the best
Hearts broken
Love forsaken
A multitude of voices
Motives put to the test
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ALL THESE THINGS THAT YOU MENTION
CHILDREN PERHAPS
Love wears hot pants
crawls inside the monkey bars
takes them off
Truth is dressed in Amish clothing
and tastes like 2 week old bread
Respect was important in the past
it has been replaced with a digital clock
Awe, as in “I ate two edibles and I’m overdose city”
Fear (Republicans and Zombies)
Freedom is not available at this time
Hatred is the new standard of affection
Life (before taxes or after ?)
Love is an endless ride on a lame horse
VOICES: suffocating anyone mistakenly corrected
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ALL THESE THINGS THAT YOU
MENTION
YES … I Know them very well
I has to lend them all
the taxi fare
and sent them directly
to the Honeymoon Hotel
with a bitter-sweet arrivederci
and a solemn promise not to tell
Does the night porter
have a desirable daughter
at the bottom of a wishing well?
Does she have you
under her poetic spell?
Or is it the cuisine
and the sights to be seen
of heaven and hell
Just magic beans
in the blood stream
at that Honeymoon Hotel?
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grind conversation
ask Lou Reed to come over
spend hours looking at my stamp collection
someday, someone will cash it all in
images of Hitler in the bathtub
greys and blues, real UFOs
a beam from the Ark
a toenail from Elvis
grind inner conversation
ashamed of a cushioned life
skittish, am I human ?
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That’s me in the corner
of a universal conundrum
losing my stamp collection
the price of doing business
with aliens and transhumans
Those pirates of beat poetry
from the Velvet Underground
that private domain of sweet Jane
now resting on silk cushions
in a luxury Placebo Town
condominium after taking
those shiny blue pills of oblivion
A place where thick in the air
is the smell of a Führer burning
Lou Reed is playing guitar
on the far side of the Berlin Wall
in a David Bowie tribute band
as all details of Elvis’s toenails
have been meticulously taken
despite the fact that one
is mysteriously missing
last seen walking tall in Memphis
with nail polish glistening
A pedicure would not go amiss
since the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll
has left the building
Meanwhile in Placebo Town
another pretender
to that thorny crown
is going all over the place
introducing himself
as a man of wealth and taste
He asked me personally
if I would be interested in
purchasing your stamp collection
but I just don’t have the space
So I said to him . . .
“You can’t always get what you want,
but my good friend, Novak Djokovic,
the tennis ace, is certainly curious.
I can tell by that incredulous look
upon his Slavic face.”
Soon after Djokovic
made his purchase
I had him released
I know it’s only it’s only Rock ‘n’ Roll
but I like it a lot more than tennis
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a neighbor posted a photo of a sad train car
that he shared with his parents and brother
growing up poor
someone commented that it builds “character”
builds “character”
go to the outside bathroom in the winter
that builds character
go to the outside bathroom in the summer
make friends with the spiders, snakes, and odor
look down in the hole
the history of mankind
some say, “the soul”
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heavy with animalistic features
genitals overloaded with hair
unpleasant and difficult to ignore
grown men paying to look through a peephole
additional coins increase the artificial light
LikeLiked by 1 person
A LARGE POSTER OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
poverty builds character
sing-a-longs
a hundred sea chanteys
MultipleMichael chanteys
prescriptions
meth companionship
warbler PCP
the good shit
my night porter smelling like swamp azalea
I rent enthusiasm, I enjoy being me
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no rumor
I rent enthusiasm
I share barbarous and uncouth moments
counterfeit ?
artificial ?
a life of ingenious forgery
MultipleMichael evolved from a savage past
misery washed away with wealth
criminals skimming the excess
heretical dialogue, lawless pillow talk
all through the narrow of a needle eye
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you skip your way into heaven
like a schoolgirl
(all those years you wondered if English was spoken)
heaven is empty
your sponsor is a no-show
now what ?
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This ain’t no disco
It ain’t no country club either
This is way down Placebo Town
where us schools girls
just wanna have fun
when things get hard
I got a feeling I’m not the only one
‘Cause all I wanna do is have some fun
until the sun comes up
over Santa Diablo Boulevard
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roughnecks who do construction
snort till reality recedes
living in a world
unapparent
frequent intoxications
between agony and glory
a canoe of solitary existence
first the TV then the light
the curveship of sleep
another name dropped
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late into the night
leaning out for love
reaching for the light
a simple school girl
of supernatural might
as wings unfurl
with hidden delight
visions beyond
all human sight
children of the past
with the promise
of a future bright
time will tell
wrong from right
the old who hold on
to goodness tight
dreams of youth
and endless flight
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re: your comment
night, light, might, delight,
sight, bright, right, tight, flight
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When it comes
to rhyming crime
it’s flight or fight
or sometimes both
at a frightful cost
. . . but be careful
Can you handle
the wrath
of Robert Frost?
“Education is the ability to listen
to almost anything without losing
your temper or your self confidence.”
~ Robert Frost
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Much like Lou Reed’s liver
I’m more a taker than a giver
A lover . . . rather than a fighter
Was it Lou who gave David Bowie
a velvet dose of Hepatitis C
way down in that ancient
Placebo Town underground?
Did that Rock ‘n’ Roll animal
have it when in concert
dripping blood and sweat
like an epileptic cannibal
over a young deviant like me
sitting innocently in the front row
all those many years ago?
But I thank God that I just don’t care
’cause when the blood begins to flow
I guess that I just don’t know
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beautiful flowers
grow from the sweat of attractive men
weeds
from the less fortunate
William Burroughs ejaculating
pasture close to Eden
BEWARE: hair twined and retwined
thickets, bowers, crevices
bugs rolling dung
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The sweat from gladiators
was a prized aphrodisiac
amongst the ancient Romans
but then …
those frisky Italian pagans
would swallow just about anything
Sophia Loren once offered me some
after I caught her at the Colosseum
with the sweat of Valentinus
dripping from her tongue
as the support act
Anita Ekberg and the Barbarians
were being fed to hungry lions
It was quite a performance
applauded by the stadium audience
I’m no jealous Spartacus
so I took a front row seat
as the walls began to shake
The Lou Reed concert had just begun
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leaving Eden
your cherished
maternal drink
no longer nourished
shallow grave soiled
poetry coiled and gutted
any direction home long lost
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outside Eden
that moment-to-moment resistance
we’re talking actions and intentions
smaller and smaller emotional units
impingement rehearsal
“I am so sorry”
poetry words in the medicine chest
aspirin tablets spelling M-i-c-h-a-e-l
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that palindrome
hovering over Placebo Town’s
forbidden dream zone
michael – leahcim
inspiration
medication
Eden in quarantine
sounds form
and melt back into oblivion
where unorthodox angels
whisper … “Who is like God?”
words locked and loaded
poetry the chosen weapon
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valentines from lovers in the darkness
seeing and being seen
the Holy Porch Light
amnesiac calm
before
but not after
feminine scripts being concluded and ongoing
lesbians yellowing with antiquity
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schoolgirl eroticism
the abundance of hair
in her armpits
perhaps
concealed orifices
(+) tight round the buttocks, library bound
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she crumples me and tosses me away
outside history on full display
that
which is housed and sealed
it shall not be squandered
feminine narrative safe
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what’s the story
on an evening snowy
multiple glory?
promises never made
chained to a mirror
and a razor blade
miles to go before I awake
between the woods
and a frozen lake
lovely, dark and deep
but I have promises to break
with dream lovers on the make
just need a little time to wake up
what’s the story
on an evening snowy
multiple glory?
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careful with that word, “multiple”
society often allows a poet to disavow
his behavior while employing the word, “multiple”
(+) the battered Michael syndrome is gaining attention
lingering awareness
the bulb left nothing untouched
paper towel, lots of paper towel
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“That is ever the difference
between the wise and the unwise:
the latter wonders at what are unusual;
the wise man wonders at the usual.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
LikeLike
I was young once
soaking in the tub
three or four cigarettes
talk on the party-line for hours
classmates from school
girls one could finger
20 years before oral
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(in the male world)
guys would permit their best friend
to fondle their girlfriend
lesser friends could sniff their fingers
spin the bottle
and seriously enjoy kissing
spin the bottle
and lock lips with a man
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business as usual . . .
the poet adheres not
to the rules
that the herd must follow
the artist seeks no approval
from a multitude of fools
where mores and morals
are interchangeable and disposable
the unchained mind
can look far behind
and see beyond tomorrow
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I was young once
a Placebo Town punk 🏴☠️
out and about 👀
making mistakes
leaving brain cells 🤯
and mutant DNA
all over the place 💦
youth is the life force ☠️
with just a distant chance
to revive the human race
as survival is a must 🙏
no thanks to those visitors
from outer space 👽
invading my safe place 🔓
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standing in the line to be recycled
with a touch of oral saccharine
an inability to deal with life
righteous anger
accumulates
room after room
concerned with
out-of-sight
neighbors wave from a distance
each with their personal monkey wrench
LikeLike
Rising from the stench
of rotting beatlemania
and cold war nostalgia
the Son of Monkey Wrench
Mutually assured destruction
was the creed of a generation
Children bred for the trenches
Sometimes blind rebellion
is the only course of action
LikeLike
in my small hometown
the shoe store would send me a postcard
“The New Line of Beatle Boots are in stock”
I was the only person who wore Beatle boots
the store stocked one size—my size
I had a different pair for each day of the month
“flash a pair of Beatle boots and all misfortune will vanish”
(+) Satan was so jealous, he had my feet removed
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what a coincidence!
I was always
the footloose
and footwear rebellious
unfortunate son
in cheap rubber sandals
and short pants
praying for leather boots
wishing that Santa Claus
would bring me some
but first you had to be nice
so . . . after kicking sand
in the face of eternity
I had to buy them boots myself
LikeLike
son of Monkey Wrench
stocked his garage with Mexican bugs
in my childhood, he changed his tee shirt
three times
sometimes
strange men
turned me on
but never him
infantile alcoholism
car engines and grease
I was more a seeding-place player
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layers lying
above consciousness
ancestral deposits of dung
stage scenery in the neighborhood
outhouses to flatter your anal benefactor
a feeling of great relief, gibbon poop
shapeless life-mass happiness
Jesus stuffed in a snake skin
tossed in Eden by God
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I just had to release
that son of a monkey wrench
and watched
as thirty pieces of silver
slipped from my grasp
aboard an Emirates airliner
… first class
with a super sized suppository
of weaponized Pfizer
protruding from his ass
Game, Set, and Match 🎾
Many believe that Novak Djokovic
is the anti-vax messiah
but that punk ain’t no Sid Vicious
After we locked him up
he pissed his short tennis pants
and cried for his Serbian mother
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a remarkable width of the opening
Novak Djokovic
his hymen
where was the expected resistance ?
they say that he amuses himself
playing the game
sportive fantasy
who corroborates the accuracy ?
LikeLike
When the top seeds
come out to play 🎾
Chinese tourists and those
Middle Eastern terrorists
they all flee
We don’t need no
hostage diplomacy 🛠️
for we are frisky and free
At the Australian Open
the referee sits up on high
That is assuredly why
they call call it a Grand Slam
Thank you ball boys
. . . and thank you m’am
LikeLike
Bob Dylan singing about hambones
huddling
huddling
them hambones them hambones
God inflating Adam
at the navel
huddling
huddling
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note on the fridge:
Art is everlasting contamination
muddled Yoko in the shower
therapeutically
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a cosmic guest
the virus requires
a willing host
to fulfil the quest
an illuminated universe
visions tangible
dreams awoken
with a conscious touch
from the holy unreachable
words spoken
fuelled with purpose
a realization less taken
the guest bursts forth
with a rush of divine force
the Most upon high
is the Great Spirit in the sky
a grateful host
now sets a new course
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WHO KNOWS THE UNTOLD STORY ?
Bob Dylan singing about hambones
peeping into the Poppycock room
planetary lesbians
distillation
everybody loves the meth
purification
all-dissolving in the mouth
up the nose
underneath your skin
give me a reason
rub some on your bum
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ONLY HUMAN
with a need for speed
and an insatiable greed
for sweet tasting oblivion
the flesh ever hungry
the spirit always thirsting
for that missing totality
of a forgotten sum
with snakes under the skin
quietly hissing
on ladders broken
under an angry old sun
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the forgotten sum
but not in my neck of the woods
5 locals work 3 days a week
the forgotten sum
within range
back and forth
snakes under the skin
the lady at the bank flirts
she knows the real numbers
LikeLike
a young girl
at the ice-cream shop
looking real cute
tried to pick me up
I must’ve been looking
easy and cheap
possibly even nice?!
she then followed me
around the block
and down the street
but I made the choice
not to fill that lonely
and empty space
was I being selfish?
beyond any doubt!
daddy issues
and a box of tissues
illicit experiments
in tainted sentiments
these are the things
I could do without
“All life is an experiment.
The more experiments
you make the better.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
LikeLike
Daddy returns home from work
the excitement is too much
the checkout woman
wants some of that
it was a nuisance
but Daddy
was a
Michael
optimistic check-out woman
she wants some of that
willing to shit the bed
willing to go blind
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in the attic, silent
simple domestic issues
Mommy hiding in the attic
far from the woodshed, the belt
nobody wanting to be a woman
angels yank off their wings
free of attachments
endless crayons
to disguise
abuse
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inside the woodshed
of social media
I investigate
I do not speculate
upon the strange
and even stranger
but I do like
to participate
with all these many
instructions esoteric
I have meditated
even levitated
and transcended
to a higher dimension
through a filter
on my webcam
despite the flat tyre
after hitting a pothole
and my broken headlight
from a collision
with a light pole
manic depression
is catching my soul, yeah
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hanging in the woodshed
atheists
thievery, lewdness
religious nostalgias
lesbians so different
they can’t be judged
(+) meth that excites the Geiger counter
in spite of the flesh
nonexistent legs
unsuitable shoes
creative scars
as if
large lips scissor cut
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Another coincidence
I was just at
the chiropodist shop
doing the Shoe Shoe
with the High Priestess
of Placebo Voodoo
when this song
came on the radio
. . . Spooky, yes?
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sometimes I would be thrown into the arms of a man
he was half Christian and half pagan
more by chance than selection
by comparison rather large
the prey of the predator
and loving it
(+) repeat performances suggest membership
older adults in church: spiritual crustaceans
punishing themselves for never escaping
obscenities for children
lavatory wall diaries
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trained to lead
baptised to succeed
then infected with greed
the great white hope
of a confected dystopia
on a lovely beach holiday
in sunny Liberia
no need to fear
getting pinned to the mat
by the rock spiders
and those low-rent
soft shoe shufflers
lurking around
every Placebo Town
street corner
with André the Giant
and Hulk Hogan
for older brothers
not to forget
the Undertaker
for an older twisted sister
and her oversexed besties
left to my own devices
a golden breed
on the run
brought down
in a stampede
fleeing Monrovia
when love came to town
carrying a gun
and the madness took over
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babies on fire in the woodshed
(÷) hitting up the fahrenheits
burning flesh hung and bled
scars are now a fashion statement
amongst the piercings and ho tags
burnt slices of white bread
staring down the barrel of a funeral
at the trailer park of dread
teddy bears and pagans must unite
and fight for their right to be relevant
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flab free
Teddy Bears
with wasp thin waists
they dream about climbing trees
looking forward and backward
observing the Neanderthals
conceptual carnivores
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hiking the rainforests
of the paleozoic
so green
so picturesque
life is a picnic
for care free Teddy Bears
ruthlessly carnivorous
on a paleo diet
posing naked
for Maxfield Parrish
doing their pilates
eating nuts and berries
whilst drinking lots
of vanilla soy lattes
and scratching
those nasty rashes
on their outer extremities
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he dreams nightly about his barber
pressed against him cutting his hair
libido rock hard and impressive
the tiny lips smacking
possibly problematic
(+) wait till father looks away
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my dream barber
uses a scalpel
and wears hazmat coveralls
as the night manager
has taken his cut-throat razor
and is calling out
for the next lucky customer
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my dream barber
the shirtless model
from romance novels
each plate has a hazmat
spoons and forks from Hades
food from a lonely consciousness
LikeLike
all good things come
to those who lacerate
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Mick Jagger and the Teddy Boys
without the Stones
Mick SUCKS
money-grubbing
cymbals clashing
modest farts
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Areola Grande in a scanty teddy
Ay caramba!
Charlie Watts has just keeled over
His dying words …
“Ariola my lil granola!”
How could someone who looks
so young and innocent dress so
skanky . . . and deadly?
Personally, I blame Madonna
Not to mention the Night Manager’s
apprentice . . .
Mick ‘Cunnilingus Lips’ Jagger
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many have been consumed
by those cunnilingus lips
“I offer no resistance”
Tommy James
was in there
Shondells
also
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Bob Dylan used Mick Jagger
to sniff out black truffles
at Anglo Saxon dinner parties
and then used his lips
to pose for photographs
for his album covers
The Beatles used Mick Jagger
so that they’d look even whiter
and brighter after a good soak
in a cauldron of goat’s head soup
Without that devil’s music taint
John Lennon was duly canonised
as a Rock ‘n’ Roll saint
We all owe Mick, and his little red
rooster, a whole lotta love and thanks
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royal sensibility tinted his thoughts
a savage bone set to explode
blood red ferocity
Jagger backstage
homoerotic
with a dead
drummer
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Jerry Hall got it all
the imprint of Mick’s lips
on her private parts
that grew much bigger in Texas
his alien DNA to breed with
not to mention Jagger’s money
payment in full
for that nice piece of ass
but then she ends up
with some reptilian fossil?
Life can be funny
but more often a greek tragedy
The very same fate befell
sweet Jackie Bouvier Kennedy
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packing a suitcase for the future
no room for one ugly ass Jerry Hall
two page spread in the library atlas
weeping swollen privates on display
a workshop for that lazy eyed Jagger
LikeLike
I was sliding down
a helter-skelter that had
been placed before the altar
of Westminster Cathedral
after taking a zoom call
from the angels on the ceiling
when all I could hear
was the choir singing . . .
“Holy, holy, holy
Though the darkness hide Thee
Though the eyes of sinful man
Thy glory may not see
Lord, only Thou art holy
and there is none beside Thee
Perfect in power, in love and purity
Oh, God in three persons,
blessed Trinity . . . ”
Did I forget to mention
… it was a Sunday?
The lyrics were a bit
old fashioned with it’s
“Which wert and art and
evermore shalt be … ”
but praising a person
a force much higher
and greater than anyone
or any earthly thing
on Tik Tok or Instagram
seemed to make the choir
and congregation happy
In fact, there was this
overpowering undercurrent
of all consuming glee
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Trinity of 2022
me, myself, and I
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Beware of Russia
on February 2, 2022
either before or after
or possibly even China
sooner or later
Especially if you’re having
a lovely holiday
in the Ukraine
or going on a fun
shopping trip to Taiwan
Better sell all your shares
and buy a vegetable garden
Perhaps an electric car
with no smoky pollution
Why not open up a McDonald’s
restaurant in Afghanistan?
Just don’t drag your feet
Wall Street don’t like
that sleepy Joe Biden
and what he’s been doing
… which isn’t a whole lot
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it is very difficult to balance all those 2s on your nose
I advised Russia to invade Alaska
why not ?
the world might behave in an aggressive manner
but little else
possibly the stink eye
Russia can stop the hands of time
sneaky China is waiting their turn
meanwhile,
America still employs Trump
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Russia and Alaska go together
like the flowers and the bees
like paella and sangria
like Los Angeles and herpes
like Florida and sunny weather 🌞
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TWO LINES: HEART AND HEAD
lucky
to have
women in my life
“Mont Blanc” females
melt like butter in my hands
internal
exterior
perpetual
while other people
heard fearful alarms
unchecked consequences
destruction outside the porch light limit
no one escapes untouched
two lines exit Glory
heart and head
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from the edge
of living thunder
straight to the heart
of a radiating pulsar
I have my hobbies
as wisdom knows better
how to trigger the finger
and crunch the number
all young and eager
poetry poised
at the tip of the tongue
comes to a head
with strings undone
somewhere deep
within the total sum
of an endless ocean
a joyful spasm
of slow motion
faster than a bolt
of lubricated lightning
when passions reach out
to the highest peak
of reaction in unison
an indivisible union
of which the angels speak
and mystics are often heard
to whisper about
flashing back
to Eden’s Garden
when those heavenly bells ring
it’s a celestial three way thing
. . . my soul to keep
the spiritual indwelling
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Multi, Multi, Multi,
Michael is no Archangel
In all of Miami
there is none quite like thee
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Bob Dylan with black truffles stuffed in his underpants
actual underwear he wore in high school
he would later sell them in Saugerties
to a salad bar night club
ball sac truffle deluxe
derivative flavors
a pinch of Jagger
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the limitations of Robert Frost
spade and pickaxe sex
he was muscular
in marriage
peeping tom shook his head
“I can see beneath the surface”
(+) perversions of feelings as well as of thoughts
HONEYMOON: villains, heroes, heroines, victims
MOST IMPORTANT: poetics of pain
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Robert Frost wrote that his wife’s farts
sounded rather like the rustling
of fallen leaves
(+) silence raped by a butt pucker
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born in fear
nurtured by guilt
Republicans befouling our future
Anne Frank silently calling them cancer
“everything Republican is a bad business”
feces in their ears, diarrhea in their throats
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it takes two
to placebo tango
I’ve seen the election
and the brain damage done
a little piece of entitlement
taken away from every
middle class
son of a gun
no matter who lost
or who won
that geriatric beauty contest
two characters
in search of an author
… at great cost
to a nation’s credibility
exported to China
a future of unsustainable
industrialised prosperity
just below the surface
a racial divide
a mile wide
squabbling over
whatever is left over
across a gulf
of class warfare
with that bitter taste
of the politics of envy
covered in a thin veneer
of pseudo democracy
the fix is in
two faces of the one beast
playing with a loaded dice
there is no real choice
in a rigged duopoly
neither a fascist
nor an anarchist be
but a futurist
with a bad case
of nostalgia
for a romanticised past
a disloyal royalist
a warrior mad monk
in the service of Christ
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somewhere Led Zeppelin is performing “Stairway to Heaven”
ball and chain inside an outdoor plastic toilet
a high price to pay for a dollar or two
no warning, just a cycle of remorse
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the first time Adam stood up
having been made from clay
just think about the first inhale
coughing up dust
just think about the first piss
mud running down his leg
(+) OMG, what passed through his mind
and then Adam asked God to make him a sister
so he could love her
I asked Freud about this
he told me to “shut up”
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a meaningless coincidence!
Carl Jung told me to “wake up” when
I asked why the collective unconscious
was partly pornoghraphic … but
mostly asleep . . . and I was having
such a lovely dream, with Sharon Tate
as my obstetrician, and Sid Vicious
as my gynaecologist, at the birth
of my beloved son, Charlie Manson
Needless to say it was a caesarian
without anesthetic, rhyme, or reason
so I asked Roman Polanski if he’d
like to be the kid’s god father
Paul McCartney was on the baby
grand piano playing ‘Let It Bleed’
with John Lennon just standing there
exclaiming . . . “Look what happens
when the criminal classes are allowed
to breed!” as Yoko Ono whispered
in my ear . . . “A criminal class hero
is something to be. If you want
to commit a crime, well, just sing
along with me.”
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every day
behind the shadows
grim faces and old bones
bare of meat
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crying on the inside
people misread
my plural faces
behind the shadows
grim
standing on bones
bare of meat
listed in the book
as an angel
but far from that
a brute
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2022 Birthday Wish
for Roy Orbison to piss on Machine Gun Kelly
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——between the buttons——
Mick Jagger sniffing the sheets
asking, “who’s been sleeping here ?”
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smoking to the point
that the Michael
finds himself
inside the egg
skinless bones
at the mercy of all
the Michael in his nest
the world covered in dung
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the Christian myth of the Fall
far from being a myth
the Fall is Karma
for that naughty God
(+) the impossible task of redeeming man
the exchange:
three pounds of misery
for a gram of happiness
SATISFACTION
in the far distance
erosion 24/7
less Michael today
less Michael tomorrow
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the rush is on
for a fox on the run
from a confined space
a dungeon with bars of iron
where hands are cuffed
and feet are fettered
freedom is seeing
the setting sun
the rush is on
for an escapee
with a broken key
I once paid an arm and a leg
for a gram of frozen satisfaction
a sharp blast of forgotten happiness
ever grasping for a safe oasis
a little shelter to outlast
the rising sun
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the reality of life:
forgotten happiness
forgotten happiness
forgotten happiness
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The Flowering Of Flesh
I Am A Flower Of Flesh
I Am A Tower Of Strength
My Flesh is Fresh
My Flesh Is Strong
I Sway In The Wind
And Pollenate In The Sun
As My Stem Is Long
My Stamen Never Ending
My Flesh Hurts
My Flesh It Leaks
What The Flesh Is Wrong?!
My Stem Is Bending
My Petals They Wrinkle
My Flesh Is Weak
My Stamen Is Wilting
As My Tower Rusts
I Am Surrounded By
The Dead And Dying
Dust To Dust
Compost To Compost
Am I Just
A Flower That Rots?
And I Was Such
A Promising Seedling
In A Flower Pot With The Lot
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and there I was in the land of walk
and I could not stand with any security
a clean animal but not properly formed
so much information to digest
swearing and blaspheming
a perfectly inadequate
God-made-Michael
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being a regular consumer
I went down the escalator at
that shopping mall of the damned
to the Library of Blasphemy
out of nothing more
than idle curiosity
some of the books were crafted
to make you feel small
sad and lonely
while others were written
to make you feel ten foot tall
and deliriously happy
I asked the librarian
if there was a book that would
tell me what I actually am
He just screamed hysterically
chanted an incantation
and then told me to scram
He was obviously not very happy
when I told him that possibly
his spirit animal was only human
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A REGULAR CUSTOMER a consumer
escalators, later in life—much later
poetry workshop rain or shine
=================
=================
The Library of Librarians
true librarians are female
word sinners crawling towards God
(+) sexual differences in the sound of a guitar
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I was always very careful
never to reveal my true name
to the Placebo Town librarian
her being a Priestess of Bael
who mixes word magic with sex
She asked me one time …
“Just to issue you a library card.”
so I told her it was Michael X
and gave her your home address
just in case I incur
her furious wrath
or the curse of an overdue fine
What else did you expect?
I certainly wasn’t going to give
that vengeful witch mine!
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that special day that you reveal your true name
clouds and rain will drift away
Woodstock at its best
================
================
communication fades to zero
zoo animals hanging in the market
sharp objects bring a good price
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living in an experiment
an ant farm Woodstock
full of plasticine humans
demented hippies
and deluded idealists
all awaiting Jimi Hendrix
to make a final appearance
with a tumultuous rendition
of the ant farm anthem
putting an end to the madness
the experiment was but a dream
freedom of ignorant expression
lacking wisdom or discretion
is not without consequence
just ask Charlie Manson
all I have to say . . .
is the truth will set you free
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countless ant farms
#1 gift in Placebo Town
the library gift shop saleslady
displays ant farms large and small
from one giant ant to a thousand dots
somewhere hidden in the rows of books
“Self Pleasure Employing Ants”
a dab of honey does wonders
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the portal of a mortal soul
dripping with honey
wet, warm, and hungry
licked without mercy
and then swallowed whole
I’ve been eaten by pussy
love has taken a heavy toll
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never wise to eat by the exit door
(+) in one hole and out the other
never wise to eat by the exit door
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Who said romance is dead?
When the head librarian said
… “Come hither and make
that hungry anteater slither.
If you wish to go first class
come to the back of the bus
and ride the helter-skelter
hidden deep in my office.”
My only reply was . . .
“no matter how hard you try
that ain’t the way
to go forth and multiply!”
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a soul not too hardened
that
yearns for happiness
and an escape to safety
(+) not $700 space grown socks
(+) not for Roy Orbison to piss on Machine Gun Kelly
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the power to hinder
why I dislike Machine Gun Kelly
he hinders the development of music
lobotomy on two legs/visual and vocal
indiscriminate mixing and grinding
Reader’s Digest rock and roll
senility at a young age
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at the truck stop showers
there’s a sign:
“no matter how hard you try
this isn’t the way
to go forth and multiply”
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Yes indeed!
Most truckers I’ve met
high as a kite on speed
with that white line fever
should forfeit forever
their right to breed
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Truckers rarely if ever visit the showers
beach boys, muscle freaks, lonely jocks
if one is a customer:
cash, meth, weapons
exotic animals, Beatle boots
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moonbeams
struck his naked head
suddenly he had an idea
“to avoid savage disillusions
one must have no illusions”
the Rabbi on his shoulder
reminded him that
he was an animal
(+) the curse of the Apes: oversimplifying
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those who pattern an afterlife on their own natures
a thousand times——-a million times
signposts: lie, steal, seduce
Hillbilly Christians
warn of a special punishment
for those who pattern an afterlife on their natures
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In Placebo Town
the experimental ant farms
tower high above the ground
and disappear into thin air
Nothing is ever produced there
They are strictly residential
and well equipped
with passion sprinklers
and existential alarms
with reality TV keeping
the occupants from any harm
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AS A GENERAL RULE
poets at all costs
should avoid referring to themselves
in the third person
MICHAEL: tormentor or tormentee
agents constantly knocking on the door
wanting to know the precise time
that innocence was lost
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THINGS YOU CAN DO WITH
A FROZEN IGUANA – No. 27
If you’re feeling particularly
thirsty, peel the frozen iguana
like a banana and give it a
whizz in the blender for a nice
ice cold iguana smoothie 🥤
A reptilian protein shake 🦎
to die for.
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THINGS YOU CAN DO WITH
A FROZEN IGUANA – No. 36
This one is a lot of fun!
To relieve the boredom when stuck
in traffic on a Florida highway, just
grab the frozen iguana by the tail
and point it out the window at the
car nearest to you, like it’s a gun.
Hopefully that other driver doesn’t
have a real one.
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THINGS YOU CAN DO WITH
A FROZEN IGUANA – No. 49
Why not give our Key Lime
Frozen Iguana Pie recipe a try?
Simply purchase a ready made
key lime pie and carefully place
it and the frozen iguana, along with
a knife, a fork, and a dessert
plate, in a warm sunny location.
Frozen Iguanas are known to get
very hungry whilst defrosting,
and those Florida ones are rather
partial to a free key lime pie.
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frozen iguana bring a good price up North
a complete meal in its own wrap
the poor devils
thousands of them
small ones under trees
the larger ones near water
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David-19
the Vulgaris Singulāris
beyond all known vaccine
knows not what you mean?
The Pseudo Security Agency
in charge of all things guilty
as decided by the silently
outspoken majority
has declared innocence
to be a thing of the long lost past
since the primary rule was broken
Poets without any direction
are now rioting in the streets
out pillaging and looting
and demanding a revolution
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upon entering heaven
one must confess their previous occupation
“hairdressers” move to the front of the line
genital dimensions ?
NO genitals in heaven
truck stop shower etiquette:
smile often
don’t drop your towel
unless you’re serious
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The recovery from
Long David Syndrome
is a slow and steady one
that many have experienced
and had to overcome
It is one thing to dish it out
but another to take it
I wouldn’t wish that on anyone
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“Life and Jah are one in the same.
Jah is the gift of existence. I am in
some way eternal, I will never be
duplicated. The singularity of every
man and woman is Jah’s gift. What
we struggle to make of it is our sole
gift to Jah. The process of what that
struggle becomes, in time, the Truth.”
~ Bob Marley
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a lawn covered in unrealistic views
failures of all shapes and sizes
the dung of pessimism
welcoming a shoe
or two
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(Honeymoon Suite)
friendliness will unlock generosity
too hell with passion being controlled
or purified
REALITY OFFERS NO COMPROMISE
it was a mistake to marry a drunk Portuguese sailor
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singularity
storybook singularity
thousands of Michaels
if not millions of Michaels
guilt and theatrical self-sacrifice
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subtracting
the abstract reality
of a variegated
singularity
many of me
given a choice
did not survive
the radioactive
schismatic fallout
of a freedom overdose
nothing ventured
nothing learnt
nothing ever lost
at great cost
to a frozen iguana
on burnt toast
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digestive-tract humor
frozen iguana
meanwhile exhibiting
tender sensibilities
waving at angels
to come on down
strategically
placing a fan
to air out your pubic hair
welcoming them to watch
they love your dong
no matter the size
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Mark Twain and I
checked the diaries
of Adam and Eve
yet found no mention
of angelic hairdressers
nor genital dimensions
but I do believe
that neither Adam or Eve
had reasons for complaining
except for the academic fact
that their knowledge
of truck stop shower etiquette
was somewhat lacking
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there was a request for a checkmark in one of two boxes:
() divine madness
() diabolical self-fulfillment
humans sleeping horizontal
bodies with human surfaces
exterior males
interior females
breeding age only
creatures on the craft
often say, “I feel you”
_____________________
meanwhile, still under police surveillance
every 30 minutes
I pick up the phone
and say, “the explosives are 30 minutes hot”
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I know people who sweat the police surveillance
when I exit my house
I wave at them
I often leave a note
saying, “help yourself to the cookies”
always employing a cute unicorn sticker
(+) I am aware of the voice-over narration to my life
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“I feel you . . .
like a frozen iguana
in a Miami Vice
evidence locker.
So sorry for your loss.
I know things can get rough
when cookie monsters get high.
Just don’t go listening
to the ever crafty Lucy in the Sky
demanding that all those
happy little bananas in pyjamas
must die out on Ventura Highway
… for heaven’s sake!
When you awake
on the other side of midnight
there is a key lime pie,
along with a knife and a fork,
waiting just for you
. . . so hold on tight.”
~ Saint Betty Whiter than White
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(+) frozen iguana often turn brown like an old banana
depressed because they no longer exhibit their reproductive colors
they commit suicide on the roadways
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at the retirement village
for Rock Gods in Florida
I saw Mick Jagger
sunbathing next to the cabana
he looked good for his age
in his space cotton socks
and skin like a frozen iguana
I said to say hello
to Charlie Watts
next time you see him
but he flew into a rage
and had me thrown out
I was just there
to visit my grandmother
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I was asked to stop listening to Led Zeppelin
an odd place on the map
actually multiple maps
no shortage of letters
Kapustin Yar
I was told to lower my eyes
and not take any shit off anyone
any indication of weakness could be fatal
(+) a thousand trees blossomed with God
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I couldn’t think of a better place
to lauch a Russian intercontinental ballistic missile strike
than Astrakhan Oblast
with Nikita Khrushchev riding
the cold war gravy train
It was too good to last
A bullet to the brain of JFK
and nothing has ever been the same
Personally I blame John Lennon
and the collective conciousness
of the liberal passive-progressive
ant farm consumer counter-culture
When Leonard Cohen sang
“Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St. Paul … ”
I shouted a resounding AMEN!
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clean for 8 days
detox city
test-test
clean
the guard watched me fill the cup
life full of provocative mirrors
he watched me, I watched him
perhaps he was a porno star
“Once upon a time”
top and bottom
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passive-aggressive aircraft
LOOK, a wonton wrapper
offspring of the future
“yesterday was constipated”
aircraft pruned from the thicket
rhinoceros horn powered
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Once upon a time
in Placebo Town
taking off your clothing
was a respectable way
to make a living
that came with all sorts of perks
… Now it’s just hard work
being surrounded by cheap jerks
expecting something for nothing
and hoping to get lucky
Always taking a chance
at hit and run motel romance
I should never have given up
on University
and my studies in rocket science
To think I once hoped to work
for the Kremlin
or even undercover for the KGB
just like Jennifer Lawrence
in that Red Sparrow movie
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late at night
things take off
loud noises and vibrations
never a sight to be seen
(+) all-consuming
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Good news
my commie comrade!
I’ve convinced Putin to put off
‘Operation Ukraine’ till after
the Beijing Winter Olympics
as a personal favour to Xi Jinping
Vladimir had a tear in his eye
when I played for him
‘Back In The U.S.S.R.’
on my harmonica
with him then agreeing
that all us socialist tyrants
need to stick together
like Jerry Hall and Mick Jagger
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we carried our water and snacks in a backpack
slept in weird cloth body bags complete with head support
told not to shower or wash our hands
(+) difficult for nonstop channel surfer Michael
the Ferris wheel was falling apart
dreamlike buckets of rust
I thought,
“there sits Robert Frost”
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Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your wrath.
Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;
heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in deep anguish.
How long, Lord, how long?
Turn, Lord, and deliver me;
save me because of your unfailing love.
Among the dead no one proclaims your
name.
Who praises you from the grave?
I am worn out from my groaning.
All night long I flood my bed with
weeping
and drench my couch with tears.
My eyes grow weak with sorrow;
they fail because of all my foes.
Away from me, all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;
the Lord accepts my prayer.
All my enemies will be overwhelmed
with shame and anguish;
they will turn back and suddenly be
put to shame.
~ King David
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they scrapped under my nails
and processed it
explosives ?
queer enterprises
what I once was
what I am now
socially awkward
varying degrees of unruliness
capable of inadvertent cruelty
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have yet to swallow
all those store bought pills
“I like good, strong pills that do something”
when the cock crows I want to hear neighbors complain
unnamed things live under the bed
way back in the back beyond my reach
with new batteries, the flashlight outlines
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When I find myself lost
in the wilderness of despair
from across a sea of poison
and a desert of rust
I can still hear the prayer
of my Hopi Shaman
“Oh Great Spirit:
Whose voice I hear in the winds,
and whose breath gives life to all the world
Hear me for I am small and weak,
I need your strength and wisdom.
Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes
ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you’ve
made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may understand
the things you have taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden
in every leaf and every rock.
I seek strength not to be greater than my
brother but to fight my greatest enemy
. . . myself.
Make me always ready to come to you
with clean hands and straight eyes.
So when life fades as the fading sunset,
my spirit may come to you without shame.”
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shame: riding a donkey at the Grand Canyon
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in the backroom one could watch crummy nudist colony footage
real naked people, overweight, oddly shaped, hairless kids
anatomical correctness (questionable)
huge mosquitoes (possibly Maine mosquitoes)
(+) too biologically frank material
—————————
stacks of finished and unfinished manuscripts
poems from a younger, freewheeling Michael
$700 socks
two girlfriends
a night porter
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endless days and nights
no evidence of understanding God
—–the best concepts are fairy tales
vomit from a Reader’s Digest childhood
prophecies doomed to be ignored
eating beef and preaching love
multimythic creatures
on the menu
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The word is out
on the streets of Placebo
since I scored myself a bargain
on some tainted A grade cocaine
from some Argentinean gaucho
But about that blow
I really don’t know
Lately things …
they just don’t seem the same
“Where did the time go?”
a white rabbit keeps asking me
whilst riding a donkey
going down to the bottom
of the Grand Canyon
I waited for him all day to return
Such a shame …
He was never seen again
and I had to pay for that donkey
with what was left of the cocaine
Yet late at night
l hear that white rabbit
hopping about
on the left side of my brain
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at the entrance to Placebo Town
an endless line to enter
(+) hairdressers go to the front of the line
(+) people who have ridden donkeys in the Grand Canyon
go to the back of the line
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Travelling around
on the.Placebo Town
School District bus
the best view to be found
was from the back seat
Nobody could sneak up
behind you and scream …
“This is a bust!
Put your hands up, punk,
and empty out your pockets.
You carrying anything sharp?”
I would often ask …
“How can I empty my pockets
with my hands up your ass?”
With a black eye and a ruptured
spleen to remind me
to remember in future
that Placebo Town cops
undercover have absolutely
no sense of humour
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Poetry Workshop:
guest speaker mentions, “equatorial Placebo Town”
no idea that there was anything equatorial after death
self-created equals equatorial / self-created=equatorial
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Not all clitorials are equal
nor are birds of a feather
Forever there be greater and lesser
Yet the parallelogram
always remains the same
in equal equatorial measure
Not unlike the steep descent
down the Grand Canyon of time
aboard a flea bitten equine
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“steep descent”
going to Placebo Town
Clitoral Festival
curls and chubby lips
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Feeling no pain
on that one way
donkey ride down
a grand canyon
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the arrow pointed down
“unavoidable biological drives”
the arrow pointed to the right
“securely separate from the animal world”
FREELOADING IN PLACEBO TOWN
sex without procreation
sex without by-products
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At that Russian poetry workshop
where Bolshevik poets come to
show and tell surrounded by
engrossed morose Muscovites,
my old friend Boris Pasternak
was giving me hell over that
Moroccan kid stuck down a well
as if it was my fault he fell
and that he was going to say so
in his latest novel, ‘Rayan Oram –
and the Placebo Town Psycho Killer’
Well, I’m no Doctor Zhivago
but it’s sure to be a best seller
People are ghouls and voyeurs
who love nothing more
than a tragic thriller
that can be devoured
in the comfort of their armchair
I get absolutely no pleasure
raising the drawbridges of Florida
on cyclists in unflattering lycra
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one small boy trying to escape
one small boy swallowed
by what some refer to as the hole
why was he wearing wings?
(+) curious moral geography
redemption through the operation of choice
self-restraint, possible intellectual control
8000 Russian poems centered on the falsity of revealed religion
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The contradiction
within creation
a perpetual balancing act
with the disharmony
of destruction
That spark of oblivion
as sharp as a knife
From every dimension
in every direction
a never ending question
Salvador Dali whispering
. . . “Everything
that is contradictory
creates life.”
Conformity is death
Imperfection
breeding strife
The price of doing business
in a cosmos
with chaos on the loose
Lost children
of the broken heart
running rife
missing the mark
given a front row seat
aboard a swirling vortex
as atoms are split
and galaxies drift apart
Resting in peace
all things eventually
returning to dust
spinning in an endless
expanse of nothingness
The Universe bleeding rust
… the corrosion of infinity
As it was in the beginning
Adam and Eve starring
in a divine comedy
May the joke not be on us
In the audience
there is laughter
Being a guest of the host
of the here right now
and the here soon after
is the most … and a must
for all creation awaits
the Grand Designer returning
with a celestial shout
All eternity flowering
throughout time and space
Love Divine
is the never ending answer
from the one who holds
all things together
in a fashion wholly sublime
overflowing
with power and grace
( … even for a low down
Placebo Town psycho killer!
Now ain’t that a contradiction?)
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riding John Kennedy like a surfboard
skimming the surface
gliding through life
pissing on people
who badmouth
superficially
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24 hour salad bar
with a senior citizen
reading the words of Blake
who says, “blame it on my ABCs”
defensive maneuvers after June’s death
Johnny moved to the ocean floor
a hermit crab with fingers
his final performances
he pretended to play
his guitar
John Prine: when he gets to heaven, he’s going to smoke a cigarette 9 miles long
Johnny Cash: when he gets to heaven, he’s going to crazy glue his penis inside June
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masturbating
between obvious
and not-so-obvious
sperms swarming
every ejaculation
great and small
is a parable
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except for “Stairway to Heaven”
everything
has been given lovingly by God
timeless time, library lesbians
every wink, nod, and mutter
knee scrape—knuckle rap
honeymoon vagina
sandpaper dry
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After scrolling down 2639 comments….I forgot what I wanted to say..except..I loved this whole experience in The Tower of Song.
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The Tower of Song does seem
to have a very deep basement 🤔
Thanks for strolling along, Karima.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Definitely, it is a tower after all but worth the whole elevator ride down.
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Glad you took the grand tour,
Karima. Just steer clear of the
dungeon. The cleaner hasn’t
been down there for a long time.
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obscure, open to interpretations
baby bird in the nest
agents of the barbarians
knocking on doors
asking questions
laser light
it makes you calm
turns your two eyes
into one
you pleasure others
they pleasure you
night porter
wearing $700 socks
shares some gossip
John and June
flying on the turnpike
John on meth
June on wine
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2639 comments
empty lips
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from the fullness
of the heart
the Garden of Lost Eden
was blown all apart
the fall had it’s faults
where does one start?
a kiss on the lips
an apple in the dark
the first bite is the deepest
teeth clenched
aiming for the mark
now thirty pieces of silver
gets you a nice picture
of Nirvana … on special
at your local Walmart
for a little extra
Vishnu will autograph it
exclusively for you!
Adam and Eve day …
“Be sure to put one
in your shopping cart 🛒”
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Walmart
fail to safeguard their vegetables
wet lips gumming sweet potatoes
photos of sexy lips sucking spuds
speaking words whose meanings
cannot be communicated
narrative trapped
under excess skin
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I went to the
Placebo Teen Town Dance
with a Walmart gift certificate
in my pocket
and an expiry date
down my pants
I was trying hard
to get the attention of Sofia Loren
when a couple of dead presidents
and various necrophiliacs
filled the air with expectation
I never really stood a chance
despite being given
a posthumous pardon
by Abraham Lincoln
for shooting up heroin
on the back seat
of JFK’s limousine
with Jacqueline
and a secret service agent
with a smoking gun in his hand
causing poor Bobby
to go totally off his brain
I tried giving him
that Walmart gift certificate
but there’s just no pleasing
an ungrateful dead president
and then didn’t it rain children?
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at the truck stop showers
a Walmart gift certificate
is solid gold
acceptance
and toleration
of Saint Walmart
no blemish or deformity
no apes in the family tree
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The ape in my family tree
is the gorilla doing book reviews
for Town and Country Magazine
The last time I saw him
was at a family reunion
in the Placebo Town Library
It got totally Darwinian
when he tore off
the librarian’s dress
I had to placate her
with a roofie tranquiliser
and a Walmart gift certificate
The cleaners are still there
clearing up the mess
But as for me;
My humanity
has been starved
and frozen
like a Florida manatee
choking on toxic algae
All I ever ask
is the Weather Man of Miami
allows me to get high
on some sweet
Lake Okeechobee sea grass
and to swim the Caribbean
without freezing my ass off
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you get pulled over by the police
small talk
you namedrop a relative
that works at Town and Country Magazine
people rudely talk while Mazzy Star performs
you want to stand up and scream, “for the love of God”
at night
angels whisper in your ear
“life is loaned”
average people fall short
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I was riding shotgun with
Marvin Gaye in his Rolls-Royce
Silver Cloud Continental Drophead
coupe down Sunset Boulevard
when a motorcycle cop, looking very
much like a younger David Soul
from Starsky & Hutch, pulled us over
and asked if we were in possession
of any contraband, such as cocaine.
When we said no he offered to sell
us some. I was soon haggling over
the price, saying this is Marvin Gaye,
the Prince of Soul! You should be
giving it away! That motorcycle cop
soon agreed to do the deal at half
price, and then wished us a nice
day. I couldn’t resist pointing out to
Marvin, as I sampled a spoonful,
that not all policeman are pure evil.
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if you are sleeping in a hospital
and a chubby lady
with bad hair
tells you
“life is loaned
payback required ”
well……………………that’s something different
focus on angels whispering in your ear
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Marvin Gaye has only one thing
to say to Multiple Michael …
“Sexual healing is something.
A chubby lady with bad hair
is better than nothing. Plus,
she might possibly be loaded
and give you a loan … unless,
of course, you fall short?”
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poor little Marvin Gaye
taking a bath every 10 minutes
trying to wash off foul memories
one can only die
never change the past
Daddy was a bad man
beat young Marvin
the bastard son
beat him black
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Marvin Gaye
ain’t here no more
He’s gone far away
but he left me the keys
to his Rolls-Royce Coupe
before catching
that last Soul Train
to a distant shore
I thought he was just
going to Las Vegas
for a celebrity roast
Such a sad loss
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they say that his daddy wore a skirt and blouse
but no one knows the really cruel stuff
Mom with a broken arm
crying before sex
crying after sex
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“Regardless of whether
I’m wearing a dress, or short
pants, I cry during sex.
Gay by name, sad by nature.”
~ Marvin Sr.
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which is worse:
+ people who cry during sex
+ people who talk during sex
+ people who snore during sex
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+ people who are atheist screaming
out “Oh, God!” during sex
+ the people who live next door and
scream out “Oh, God!” during sex
+ people who decompose during sex
(unless you’re into that kind of thing)
+ people who compose operas during
sex, with a happy ending to make the
fat lady sing 🎶
+ people who stop having sex when
they hear the telephone ring ☎️
+ people who talk on the telephone📱
during sex
+ people who text their ex during sex
+ people who think they’re the best at
having sex without putting it to the test
and trying the rest
+ people who are sterile, and totally
neutral, but insist on having sex
regardless (but that’s none of my
business)
+ people who squirt and spray during
sex and don’t stay to clean up the mess
+ people who think that sex is a contest
+ people who pat themselves on the
back during sex … with no one else to
bear witness
Sexual healing is a feeling I love
too much, I must confess 😇 🕶️
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recently on the set of “Fake Taxi”
a beautiful young lady confessed that she enjoyed “dirty anal sex”
that sort of thing would have excited Abraham Lincoln
THE LOG MAN
openly sleeping with attractive men
fresh linen multiple times at night
a bulldog wife in the nuthouse
what could go wrong ?
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best not get
in the back seat
of that particular taxi
you’ll be stuck there
for all eternity
unless . . .
they’ve steam cleaned
the interior
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singing praises in heaven
eating pancakes with Jesus
——the package deal——
unceasing labor
24/7 taskmaster
complete lack of selfhood
every twitch is a violation
yes
baby after baby
Hebrews on the floor
uncomfortably aware
“Taketh and Dasheth No More”
——the package deal——
baby after baby
slid from the opening
and dropped to the floor
Hebrew from clay not fire
astray from the lies of man
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not doing something makes no sense at all
all things that can be done should be done
Adam and Eve slept standing up
until shown otherwise
(+) reflections of Placebo Town on the moon
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The more things change
the more they rearrange
the emergency exits at the
Placebo Town Colosseum
where an avatar
of Marlon Brando
by the name of Cain
does battle in cyber space
with James Dean
playing the part
of a crash victim called Abel
re-enacting scenes
from the Wild One
as Adam and Eve
are confined to the Museum
of Lost Eden Dreams
where everything on display
is either good or evil
like a Triumph
Thunderbird motorcycle
being ridden by an angel
or a Harley Davison
possessed by the devil
and driven by Lee Marvin
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Bob Dylan was upset
other names were being tossed about
James Dean/Lee Marvin
Marlon Brando
there was only one
Harley Davison
and that one
was in his pants
the clay dong
(+) “the breath of life”
the Hebrew god
fashioned the dong
awakened it to life
the dong is more
than fun and games
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Jimmy Page
and Robert Plant
pay daily homage to
The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan
What more could he want!
Besides the reincarnation
of Roy Orbison
George Harrison
and all them Travelin’ Wilburys
not to mention
John Lennon
and the rest of his
ungrateful dead disciples
Evan my God son
Charlie Manson
worshipped Bob Dylan
and look where that got him!
(how’s that for name dropping?)
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I seem to remember Lennon
sleeping on a sidewalk in California
with needles stuck in his arm
say what you wish about him
but poor little George Harrison
he’s only 7 years old
still in short pants
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I can never forget the picture
of a happy little Paul McCartney
sitting on his mummy’s knee,
and that other one of Ringo Starr
being breastfed by some groupie
in a London Taxi.
Beatlemania has left the world
a better place, yet unfortunately
I still bear the scars from refereeing
Yoko Ono and Linda McCartney mud
wrestling on the banks of the River Thames, not to mention the singing. Some things will remain with me
forever. It’s no wonder John Lennon
inevitably became a Junkie.
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words put to a use
for which they were never intended
(+) my thoughts are blushing
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commanded the wife
to drive directly into the flames
90mph and the tires melted
“pedal to the metal, girl”
(+) our flesh made lust against our spirit
(+) our spirit made lust against our flesh
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Another coincidence!
90mph is the speed I drive
when delivering space cotton
to that southern plantation
known as Electric Lady Land
The salvation, and the ruination,
of many a man under the illusion
he was getting lucky endlessly
trying to beat the heat with just
an empty can in his hand and
on the lookout for a piece of that
sweet strange . . . to then be left
begging for spare change
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all those words
they were just self-serving
wanting to stand tall
to peer over the top
lesbian eunuchs
uncovered
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old men will dream dreams
young men will see visions
rebels transformed into lambs
puddings self-saucing
my portion in proportion
angels cooking in the kitchen
poets scouring the garbage can
words flowing down from Avalon
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lesbian eunuchs
librarian based
(+) insincere compliments
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lesbians can be
a girls best friend
when the library don’t
stock those books
that take you by the hand
a forbidden eunuch
to do their bidding
a knowing look leading
to the twin passion
of passive aggression
none of that coy ploy
like asking permission
to spit the molecule
female on female
very rarely ever tell
secretive the destination
that playful Miss Direction
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be fruitful and multiply
baby after baby tumbled down
they say that it was a forbidden tree
the only one without a protective coating
(+) angels: free of disobedience and nudity
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Aldous Huxley
my philosophy tutor
instructed me
that my reality
was an abstract construct
covered in a smothering
protective coating
carefully applied
over years in the deep freezer
of social engineering
but could easily be removed
with a trip to Los Angeles
where Timothy Leary
was handing out the LSD
Being a forbidden fruit
just hanging from the trees
in the Californian sunshine
curiosity got the better of me
just like Adam and Eve
in the land before time
as walls began melting
and I found myself climbing
the tallest mountain
in Eden’s Garden
where Salvador Dali
was painting
a naked universe unfolding
But it was just a dream
without any clothing
or even a protective coating
as it would seem
heaven’s angels were sleeping
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reality can be defined in endless ways
like taking a burning piss
after eating cheap speed
for several days
the fun at first
it floats away
happiness
wets your
shoes
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In the bullring
of Placebo Town
where speed is king
Pablo Picasso
left the angels weeping
sore and bleeding
The stretching of the canvas
his insatiable pallet
and the voraciousness of his art
was no doubt the cause
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question of the week:
with all that intertwining of flesh and bone
did Picasso ever get it right ?
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“Picasso got it
wherever he could
as any great artist
at the precipice
of genius should.
Even a Placebo Town
bordello if he had to.”
~ Cardinal Flesh
(Art critic at large, for
Town & Country Magazine)
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not ashamed of their nakedness
the human and his woman
man and his pet
his own body
ecstatic
(+) who knew she was to be thorny
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Super Bowl entertainment:
lame sticks and exhausted holes
many white people pressed mute
went outside for a smoke or two
motion picture and sound critics
free from knowledge of good and evil
showing no shame or fear of death
snapped their fingers
“Meltdown City”
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I missed the whole thing!
I was on the red carpet for
the Golden Eunuchs, Placebo
Town’s glittering awards night.
The hosts were all women, as
the men had all been neutered.
It was so much fun the audience
had to be sedated and muted.
Not to mention the after party
at Alec Baldwin’s house. Enough
to say it was a total blast!
Disappointingly, I didn’t get to
take a Golden Eunuch, but there’s
always next year.
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I did hear that Madonna
appeared in a wheelchair singing
‘Lesbians Are A Girls Best Friend’
and The Jeffrey Epstein Girl’s Choir
sang the National Anthem as the
crowd went down on both knees
in patriotic neurotic appreciation.
Apparently Prince Andrew was so
moved he made a very generous
donation to The Foundation For
Overpriced Underage Prostitution.
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I shed a single tear for Madonna
cursed with calm sexual coupling syndrome
critics stated that she was attractive
in her metal chair
they said something similar about Eve
at the moment of her expulsion
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Guy Ritchie claimed he gave her
his lock, stock, and one smoking
barrel, but that was never enough.
Sean Penn tried to fit in, yet she
was ever ungrateful. Plus, being
a Bay City roller, she was always
talking with her mouthful. Now
she rolls down hill in her bespoke
gilded wheelchair. Like a prayer,
and those HIV infected dancers she
outed, I’d love to push her there.
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Baby Bird, talk about overpriced underage sex
pimps of the world daydream about a herd of those creatures
what if it was the opposite—-sex with senior citizens over 70
(+) what if Joe Exotic knocked on the door
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having ever
had a thing
for mature women
I still dream
of Barbara Eden
the cream of jean genies
out of her bottle
naked in the garden
running wild
and me as the Tiger King
on the prowl chasing
but then
I was always a feral child
on the wrong side
of the gates of Eden
I do hope this confession
doesn’t upset
my sweet Sophia Loren
for she was the best
I could ever expect to get
as dreams are but dreams
no matter how wet
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budding erection
Peter Pan focused on Barbara
the chubby and the warmth for which it hungered
the powers of death: hand on heart: hand on bone
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to pop Jeanne’s cork
was just too much
for a poor boy to handle
with a puff of smoke
shot out of her bottle
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collective oddities
a hand full of knives
psychological terror blades
dark explorations into drugs
opaque in a strange-tongued buzz
night porter wants extra pay (holiday)
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once upon a time
I went on a little vacation
to Tattoo Land
Placebo Town’s premier
amusement park …
‘Guaranteed to Fill You With Fear
… So Come Visit Us in the Dark!’
after a night out on the gear
I had to ask for a refund
as the rides weren’t much fun
following the tracks
of an angels tears
to the Pavilion of Bedlam
and I kept waking up
with the Ring Master shouting
“Roll Up! … Roll Up!”
but how could I
having pawned the shirt
off my scarred back?
next time I’m going to try
that Palisade of Armageddon
it may not be pleasant
but at least there’s free medicine
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five years old with an obsessive dedication to potty
criminal slang is okay
psychiatric hospital
dorm rooms
dark
aiming, pressing
poker at the backdoor
Highway 61
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although no one would get up at night
and look under their bed
poets often do
a thousand flashlights
darkness alone is visible
(+) nightly run-on thoughts
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Barbara Eden
yoked to a sexless astronaut
who promises to take her to the moon
(+) Barbara Eden dream:
to undress in front of an open window
with Peter Pan watching with binoculars
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I am Peter
I am the Pan
the lost boy
who never grew up
and Neverland is where I am
talking to a stranger
who says he’s Captain Hook
a pirate smelling of danger
and looking real crook
like a seafaring junkie
hunting for some little tiger
by the name of Tiger Lily
and he’s checking out Wendy
I think we’d better scram
and go watch
I Dream of Jeannie
on Neverland TV
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the night porter came over with some “crazy bone”
on the boat—not able to navigate
the sounds of the Dynamo of Death
so close
like she couldn’t stop talking
like she couldn’t stop quibbling
about singular and plural
(+) the divergences of self
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The Dynamo of Death
was once my favourite ride
until half out of breath
I took a deep look inside
and found there spinning
a prayer wheel gone wild
I went to push the big red
“Divergency Button”
and all of a sudden
I was lying in a hospital bed
with a voice repeating …
“Never push that button
unless you’re already dead!
There are always two paths
you can follow, so
get that through your head.”
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sleeping under a slab
cold beneath stone
the withering of the soul
Mister Jim Morrison
speaking foul language
each word a mark
of that which hates life
(+) valentines inviting paralysis
(+) valentines inviting impotence
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the trouble is
how much do you take ?
is it
possible to feel better ?
elementary expressions
enmeshed
reading, sleeping with a ballerina
sorrow, Christmas and birthday
sorrow, traffic and tourists
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Happiness happens
I do my best
not to feel guilty about it
despite the carnage
the crosstown traffic
and a deadly pandemic
I can do nothing
about Machine Gun Kelly
stories of Michael Jackson
or African starvation
In the light of heaven
I’m held tight
in the right place
at the right time
on the playground of creation
The curious crimes of the past
and those various
self inflicted stains
they’ll never last
Life can be a celebration
touched by the total sum
Sometimes … I am overcome
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02/20/2022
too many too soon
the saga of the edibles
I understand your situation
WHO can do anything about M.G. Kelly ?
without a machine gun he is a sick puppy
the inevitability of death
lobsters are praying in store tanks
one minute you’re lazily eating guano
the next minute you’re becoming guano
reality becomes pinching rectal movements
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Happiness is
a firm American stool
floating
in a Russian swimming pool
Happiness is
a near miss with a helicopter
when swimming the Caribbean
off the coast of Florida
Happiness is
a many splendored thing
Eating guano ain’t
one of those things
but some will give anything a try
like listening to white trash
trying to rap
Machine Gun Kelly
he makes many cry
like a slap of faeces
to the face
As for me … I couldn’t give a crap
Life is too short … when
happiness is sitting on your lap
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daily parodies
under police surveillance
neighborhood rhinoceroses
behave and misbehave
(+) vegetarian oral sex
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They cut the horns
of rhinoceroses off
to protect them
from poachers
… don’t they?
Those Chinese
use rhinoceros horn
instead of Viagra
when Viagra
is much cheaper
and vegan even
Silly mother jugglers!
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no one knows about rhino horn
like baby blood
but I do
baby blood will set you straight
pick you up and bless your inner self
a pint, a quart, whatever it takes
mother and sisters with cord
the smell of young seed
skin horn strong
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2/22/2022?
too little too late
the future always spinning
upon the fickle finger of fate
like a Chinese juggler’s plate
under a circus spotlight
after a night out drinking
that beluga epicure vodka
from Mother Russia
… one can never be sure
with absolute certainty
what is true
and what’s just a load of twos
from some or other
mother juggler
Nostrovia!
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hook up in Austria
healthy baby blood
laughing and crying
leaking seed super hard
told to get some rest, shuteye
cursing Robert Frost, M.G. Kelly
(+) chewing tobacco like a nervous cow
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we could all do
with a spell of stem cell
the herd at poetry workshop
especially
as they’re all
getting old and wrinkly
word therapy
ain’t what it use to be
thanks to the post-modern insanity
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I saw on the clipboard
“love-urge exhausted”
LOVE-URGE
becoming negative in its persistence
forced to the surface, forced to function
an afternoon aide rubbing my lower body
American Beauty on the mend
a huge element overhead
I saw myself in the bird
a window seat
my wife in a
tizzy
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baby dolls on fire
quick on the smoke detector
the plastic and silicone
of sky high passion
with love-urges melting
the first class section
a flooded locker overhead
no time to panic … but
safety vest gone missing
elements electronic
window seat tight
in an upright position
body parts disposable
hostile air marshal
the stewardess hospitable
coming in for a landing
yesterday in the hanger
tomorrow a new morning
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living in a land
where men
breastfeed
I don’t
know
troubled dreams galore
with Luke Skywalker
gherkin farts
chutney
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while people discuss death
others are constantly dying
loved ones licking spoons
(+) the only happy guy at work
he gets it at night
he gets it each morning early
outside on the street
bullets eager to maim
blackness darkening
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Sometimes I’m thinkin’
I’m too high to fall
Sometimes I’m thinkin’
I’m much too high to fall
Other times I’m thinkin’
I’m so low
I don’t know if I can come up at all
Black crows in the meadow,
sleepin’ across the broad highway
Black crows in the meadow,
across the broad highway
Though it’s funny, honey,
I’m out of touch
Don’t feel much
like a scarecrow today
~ Bob Dylan
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most of the time
I was strapped down
unable to move
exhausted
like a raccoon with rabies
desperate to cause harm
watching their eyes
their fingers ever
so close
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In hyperspace
no one can hear you scream
Surviving the warp drive
one parsec at a time
all the way to Tatooine
on the galaxy’s outer rim
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on the eternal train
I see you standing outside
all alone inside your scarecrow
pointing away from Placebo Town
a kind of marriage
your finger
in there
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a real man permits his best friend
to finger his wife, his lover lady
I asked her what it was like
“he touched nothing
except ancient
cornfields”
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going on vacation
where they tell you
to never go
taking a loaded gun
tremor-laden meth
additional funds
going on vacation
Ejaculation City
(+) quester and quest
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Don’t forget
to pack a raincoat
and a pair of galoshes
I hear it often rains
in Ejaculation City
so mind the splashes
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———————–Mayr Clinic
not the detox box
the dark lab
tourist free
was ordered
to stay clean
but some things
just don’t seem possible
tomorrow is the red circled day
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All the best …
Wishing you success
My pH level is off the chart
thanks to my Timothy Leary diet
so I’m alright
Might even go sticking my finger
into some scarecrow tonight
where the memoirs linger
and keep me up all night
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🙏 😇 👍
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