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 
Johnny Cash heard me say,
“I got a crayon for a dick
five fingers and
a reserve”
Johnny said,
“I got a guitar for a dick
five fingers and
a reserve”
LikeLike
Idle fingers exploring
a burning ring of fire
I tried walking that line
with a weeping guitar
but I just ended up
getting a whole lot higher
Johnny said
he was all out of cash
when I asked
could he spare a dime
and didn’t I know
that pan handling
here in West Texas
was a crime
as June just stood there
pointing to the nearest exit
so now having died
I walk the line
“The blazing fire makes flames
and brightness out of everything
thrown into it.”
~ Marcus Aurelius
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sometimes in life He follows you
silently repeating your number
toe stepping from room to room
till one day a turn around
self-taught and
prosperous
LikeLike
“Lord, I can’t sing
like Vince Gill”
Patty Loveless
on stage with a load
of Vince leaking down
her hairless crotch curious
why Vince didn’t last longer
———
———
Michael tossed down
face to the ground
everybody dead
or dying
but not
him
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You must have me mistaken
for somebody else
The man who shot
Liberty Valance perhaps?
I did survive that gunfight
at the O.K. Corral
but that’s a story I promised
Wyatt and Virgil never to tell
after John Wayne went insane
throwing multiples to the ground
The last I saw of him
he was leading a posse
with Jeffrey Epstein
and Jungle Jim
down to Placebo Town
Lord have mercy!
LikeLike
———one hit wonder, “Pocket Full of Gold”———
Vince Gill, 1991, enough to ignite a gay male
Patty Loveless, very unusal body language with Vince on stage
the way she looks at Vince means only one thing
jism running down her leg has grown cold
——(words elevate some and demean others)——
I refuse to be carbon-dated
now that I’m older
I pay someone to sweep my path
I suffer recurrance
Johnny and June visit often
LikeLike
today I discovered my attorney was deaf
She and I in a office signing forms
had to remove my mask
I was Santa Claus in July
nervous,
I took two doses of a calmative
fascinated with her million dollar ring
it was worth every cent, every drop of sweat
(+) later in the car, I had to take a little timeout
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when it comes
to lawyers, guns, and money
John Wayne signed an affidavit
stating it would be
a singular pleasure
to repeatedly shoot me
Jeffrey Epstein had told him
I was a no good commie
LikeLike
Mister Wallet
now the suitcase does the talking
domesticated, snake-eyed and incarcerated
limited heterosexuals on the prowl after dark
my horse got yellow spots
the doctor man
slipped it the needle
firearms outlawed, confiscated
the girls down at the saloon are now men
Mister Exhausted Wallet
now the suitcase
does the
talking
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It was left to me
to explain to Ghislaine
why she was now
doing hard time
and how seven million
didn’t guarantee you
a good lawyer
but I did promise Ghislaine
that we wouldn’t do to her
what we did to Jeffrey Epstein
LikeLike
people pack a suitcase
but leave it behind
when they go
empty hands
no hands
skeletons from childhood
unreasonable pleasures
a huge life stuffed full
crybaby antics
difficult to
swallow
young prostitutes
what mistakes they made
over and over, untold stories
LikeLike
Operation Organ Grinder
was a great success
We even got the monkey
on the run
with her lawyers
cheerleaders and babysitters
all packed up
in her Louis Vuitton suitcase
LikeLike
if one looked out from the stage
at a Pink Floyd concert
thousands of fans
at some point
turn into
suitcases
(+) Mister Wallet, suitcases have taken over the conversation
Americans no longer have need of Walmart or Amazon
all those fancy coins and paper strips
just useless nonsense
Johnny and June
can no longer
swallow
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at a nightclub
in the deep south
called the Reefer Cabaret
I stood and watched Joe Walsh
stick a plastic tube in his mouth
doing that Rocky Mountain Way
he soon flew off
to join the Eagles
with his guitar talk box
and that plastic tube in his mouth
what more can I say
about Joe Walsh?
LikeLike
——Mister Wallet is on a diet——
just like that guy who has problems with pixies
I find myself in an ocean of suitcases behaving badly
“take me home, Michael” lonely and stuffed beyond limits
“unpack me and permit me to rest”
suitcases with demands
perhaps, they should be replaced
with ones billed
“inexhaustible and clean shaven”
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the Alpha
doing as he please
a leather bound predator
who could climb tall trees
The Jungle King
of happy beginnings
with expensive endings
now a threatened species
in the hands
of sticky fingers
what have I become?
Johnny Cashless
contactless
and uncomfortably numb
LikeLike
1991 Vince Gill and Patty Loveless singing “Pocket full of Gold”
the camera catches Patty being a hooker with a voice
check out her facial makeup
her streetwalker garb
the light shines between her legs
one could park a car there
she stands in the shadows
working her way up to Gill
Vince gets silly faced
singing, “his one
night of pleasure”
he slides that guitar over
pulling Patty up close
he smells her sex
2 times he goes
for a kiss
she steps back
but the looks on her face
school girl crush on level 10
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I was sure
that Vince Gill
being pure prairie
was telling me
to go and get high
on that mountain
over yonder
with Billy Joe Shaver
but only when
them fallen angels fly
So I waited
for Glen Frey to finally die
as sweet Amy Grant
sang El Shaddai
The rest is music history
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(+) sorry, I don’t know those other names. Suitcases are very private.
daily life is so difficult
people hung up in the past
clay figures now gone
the floor covered in dissolved guilt
prayers in the night
for retrieved strengths
—————————————
—————————————
I read about greater groundedness beneath your feet
the terrible shakes, wash away, blow away, compromise
take your pick
LikeLike
you go and you confess
that you are suffering from
posttraumatic stress disorder
that you not only have a therapist
but you also employ her therapist
beg them to ask you personal questions
explain that you have nothing to hide
strip down to your shorts and socks
offer a view of your backside
try to touch on episodes
too painful to deal with
the buried trauma
of sailor sodomy
LikeLike
pOETRY wORKSHOP:
first rule: obedience does not master the poet
the poet masters it
reality overtakes
pain envelopes
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Poetry Workshop:
poetry is the enemy of reality
revelation and obfuscation
ying and yang in constant motion
the opposing weapons of poetry
triumphant in the moment
heartbroken in the long run
romance in short pants
trauma and melodrama
dismantling and constructing
abstracts rising and falling
reality demanding to be hidden
by the propaganda
of an existential victim
or exposed with the scalpel
of an able surgeon
adept in the art of observation
LikeLike
the first time
Jesus and his cross
fell off the wall
standing up in church
and confessing
sailor rape
the cloud of male on male
darkened good hearts
upside down souls emptied
LikeLike
went to the Grand Ole Opry
everyone sat quietly
and started crying
I started crying
(+) missing loved ones passed on
LikeLike
been a rough evening
my 98% done moved on
died in my arms
(+) why did I have to experience that ?
the price of the ticket
that’s what I’m told
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hush hush
sweet Michael
Vince Gill
gonna sing you
a lullaby
in that void
left by Pink Floyd
in the great by-and-by
there’ll be no need to cry
LikeLike
behind the truck drivers
a willing for poetry
to happen to them
———
———
“show some respect
don’t wake them up”
yes, don’t wake them up
lovemaking
cannot be identified
things your mother told your sister
about lovemaking and Daddy sex
the intrusion, was it noticeable
the closure of her parts
that made him happy
“learning to dance with a pecker inside you”
a single fondle face down, slip and slide
LikeLike
COUNTLESS CHAPTERS:
“learning to clean the house with a pecker inside me”
“learning to make meals with a pecker inside me”
“learning to walk the dog with a pecker inside me”
and then a sort of sick but fascinating subject:
things your mother told your sister
about lovemaking and Daddy sex
(+) try not to identify with your oppressor
LikeLike
turn out the lights
are you swallowing your words ?
in complete darkness
do you feel shame ?
beware others that suggest leather
“just laugh it off”
feeling different in a setting
where difference is 100% wrong
standing up in church
and confessing
sailor rape
pray for a modified comeback
somewhere behind flat-chested lesbians
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white kids trying to pretend
that they are Tibetan sages
talking about pinholes
in the curtain of darkness
new arrivals
had to introduce themselves
I refused to give my name
only that I was a survivor
having passed through sailor rape
having passed through and beyond
(Michael, more than a wallpaper pattern)
LikeLike
A certified sage
is something to be
Bedlam is full of them
After a wild night
on that Himalyan mad honey
the Dalai Lama
authenticated me
as the 14th reincarnation
of Genghis Kahn
I’m certain
that it meant something
but an hour later
the Dalai Lama
told Donald Trump
the exact same thing?
Only he was the 15th
Ever since
Donald has been busy
trying to kill me
He even sent
some Proud Boys
to my birthday party
but after sampling
that Himalyan mad honey
they now work for me
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H mad honey
edibles are dangerous
headline
“talking is as rewarding as sex”
weak, watered down sex
orgasm like a sneeze
LikeLike
I monitor a baby donkey
watch the little fellow daily
———everything is a coincidence———
Michael thrown from someone’s moving vehicle
on-moving life, Michael the Verb
LikeLike
We, the human herd
are farmed by the Virus.
The Virus is within us.
We are made for the Virus.
We are it’s habitat.
We are a way for the Virus
to know itself.
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the virus is not alone
crowded world
——exact periods of punishment in purgatory
PRECISE SINS
in-depth Jesus drama
gets better and better
talking to God
he speaks ape
—————
—————
in my dream it was a marching band
but it wasn’t really a marching band
in the deep south
people don’t march around
the God in them knows God
and God likes to relax
to suckle
LikeLike
Purgatory
is a state of mind
known to the very elect
as Placebo Town
where the sports stadium
is a petri dish
in which the Thief
comes only to steal and kill
and destroy
Where everyone
seeks relief
from the Virus
as the game is so brief
and every refuge
is just a ploy
to ensnare the fool
Whereas Jesus came
that they may have life
and have it to the full
The marching band
and the purgatory choir
just couldn’t get me
to that reality much higher
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first
Vince Gill cannot replace Pink Floyd
He is a tadpole in a small pocket of water
Pink Floyd is the Louvre with its legs spread
language and sounds
inside the genital portal
transparent and atmospheric
Pink Floyd has an unique oxygen
some say that the ears become the lungs
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secondly
since Syd Barrett
checked out of Bedlam
my fish bowl
has become an ocean
thirdly
I’ve been to the Louvre
and I could not find
a single Dali
It was all Michaelangelo
and Botticelli
with Mona Lisa
hiding in the corner
whispering softly …
“This is no place
for a Pablo Picasso,
not even a Salvador Dali.
So get out of my space
you long haired hippy!”
That self-satisfied look
upon her Tuscan face
is no longer a mystery
upon the shore
of that crystal ocean
where planetary waves
endlessly roll in
lovely ladies lay about
on golden sand
like a single organism
working on their collective tan
and displaying that avulsive
scissoring mechanism
actions and reactions
the remnants of which
forever remain
scattered about the beach
LikeLike
I stood in line in DC
to see Mona Lisa
years later
I discovered
that it was a lie
the real Mona Lisa
never goes anywhere
LikeLike
So … it was you
who went to the Louvre
and threw a cake
in Mona Lisa’s face.
Revenge can be sweet 🍰
LikeLike
the Mona Lisa
was left with a bad case
of Long David
after I went to visit her
fatigue
breathlessness
and a cognitive disorder
the medical term for it
is being ‘rogered stoopid’
LikeLike
attaching numerical value to book spines
the twins of library justice: error and misdirection
homeless people stuck in the shameful peccadillos aisle
muddled attempts at life, more Don’ts and less Dos
stubborn reality imposed upon us
by time and place
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A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR
The Seven Hills
of Placebo Town
are where the best
single origin
peccadilloes are found
Grown with pride
from the seeds
of gluttony
to meet the need
… that need to feed
of a greedy breed
Guaranteed
to be friendly
our peccadilloes
are rarely deadly
(at least not quickly)
When envy is a must
and you’re busting
with combustible lust
you need a peccadillo
you can trust
A Placebo Peccadillo ™
Don’t be a sloth!
Try some now ….
or you’ll feel my wrath
LikeLiked by 1 person
my ex’s attorney
greatly admired
my million dollar ring
as she asked so sweetly
I allowed her
to stick her finger in
it was a perfect fit
all the way
up to her wrist
so guess what?
It is now her
million dollar ring
and I’ve got myself
a new attorney
who really
knows how to win
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A PLACEBO PECCADILLO, PLEASE
temptations of independence
rolled up like fat joints
without supervision
the cake with pie
vaginal erosion
(+) friends request that you not dance bottomless
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the seven hills
of Placebo Town
are all active volcanoes
through a sulphur haze
early in the morning
I hear the sound
of those peccadildo pickers
a-gently moaning
LikeLike
at the library this morning I discovered a classic
“ Tales of a Peccadillo Picker Penis ”
a strong soap and water wash of a book
one might daydream of a world of novelty
but sadly discover a limited number of choices
Pedro the peccadillo picker utilized his older sister
pleasure without pregnancy, no vagina intercourse
LikeLike
Sounds like a classic
along the book spine lines
of ‘A Tail Of Two Peccadildos’
A top seller in Placebo Town
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“ESCAPE FROM THE PECCADILLO PICKER PECKER”
asking myself, “why did I cheat ?”
having the perfect mate
mess around
and mess around
come home and act
as if nothing was going on
take a shower
and start a new cycle
masculinized
perhaps, monster adrenal glands
peccadillo residue
—————
—————
house rules were obeyed
walls got painted
somewhere someone
was satisfied
with make-believe
LikeLike
From the pages
of ‘A Tail Of Two Peccadildos’
“… my sex therapist said that
I should be proud of my peccadildo,
and that such a pecker could only
be plucked in a town like Placebo.”
Just then the library became a scene
from the Rocky Horror Picture Show
with the head librarian manifesting
as the May Queen dancing the limbo
completely undressed.
My sex therapist had warned me that
the library was no place for a tourist.
Even a humble soul with a peccadillo
the size of a maypole.
In the final chapter, next to the exit,
there was a chance to discover that
the risk of domestic bliss does exist
You just gotta nurture that mother
with a whole lotta nature
and love it to death
LikeLike
this morning the librarian told me,
“question marks didn’t exist in the 16th century”
sexual bliss without predators
adherents in radically divergent times
LikeLike
O Quaestio, Quaestio!
Wherefore art thou Quaestio?
In the library with Multiple Michael
being riddled by a librarian insane
and a predatory peccadillo for a brain.
Meanwhile, the blinds are pulled
down in Placebo Town.
The more things change the more
they maintain that status quo of the
lame.
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humans are just carbon dust in need of ladders
religious people standing on step-ladders
praying at the feet of Jesus
who touches not
what we touch
LikeLike
Religion is often
just a tribal hole
to make
a last stand in
whilst tied
to a totem pole
listening to the sirens
beyond human grasp
Fallen angels
without a human soul
Often religion is a prison
Jesus is the Word
Faith in a love full of hope
that spoke of true freedom
mindful that we are but dust
Jesus is a person
always within reach
and never out of touch
Body, mind, and spirit
unified, healed,
and made whole
Religion is often
just a tribal hole
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I dated a tribal hole
first time I saw her in daylight
I fainted
green teeth
seriously, green teeth
traded her for an overweight model
then life happened and I was somewhere else
it is so impossible
to exist
anywhere too long
a succession of “wild faces”
living a life, dream-fever fast
LikeLike
saw an odd Emily Dickinson quote,
“close your eyes and welcome my hand”
wolves and bears outside at night
sniffing where you went wee-wee
where you went potty
—————–
—————–
—————–
“Johnny One-Eye”
a little wood goes a long way
LikeLike
A bit of guilty Emily plagiarism!
Words stolen from the swollen
pages of that timeless classic
‘A Tail Of Two Peccadildos’ …
“… close your eyes and welcome
my gland.”
LikeLike
difficult to outdo Emily
scribbling sex
compromising situations
her pony cart butt
ecstasy
LikeLike
sometimes I step back
permitting others the privilege
to dig themselves free of the avalanche
(celestial) (terrestrial) avalanche of dreams
LikeLike
withdrawal was moderate this morning
slept till 5 and went out to the old neighborhood
spent $195 at the grocery, orange juice and deserts
pulled out the good stuff and the wheels have left the ground
located at the mythos of reality, sweet masochistic Michael asleep
MASOCHISTIC MICHAEL: hand-sewn tattoos
LikeLike
nothing beats
a scantily dressed
Scandinavian woman
bringing your groceries in
with a javelin in her hand
not the head librarian
down on her knees
not honest Abe Lincoln
not even Johnny Cash
opening another can of beer
for Kris Kristofferson
in the ashes of Placebo Town
with June Carter
severely chastising them
on a Sunday morning
coming down
LikeLike
a discomforting memory of a memory
Kris Kristofferson and June Carter
generalized sexual alienation
June, so decent and well-intentioned
her yearning for something-more
and finding it with the young stud
Kris signed himself
on June’s blank slate
locals outside
her bedroom window
amazed by the outbursts
LikeLike
Kris would keep
a broom in his guitar case
where secrets were swept
and the heartaches kept
Cowboys never complain
they just do it in song
Why me?
Me … and Bobby McGee?
Poor Janis Joplin
just couldn’t live
in her own skin
so she sliced it off
one piece at a time
with a bottle of bourbon
a ball and chain
and a hot shot of heroin
LikeLike
the romance novel
written by a cowboy
700 pages
not a single reference
to another living person
somewhere out of sight
mutts birthing mutts
people in town
diaper crazy
don’t never
go there
LikeLike
Leanova Spankoff
the Russian
chess playing robot
broke my finger
but it was all my fault
When she kept saying
Your Move
I mistook her for a sexbot
and nothing gets me going
like artificial intelligence
all dressed up
in silicon and spandex
LikeLike
boy with broken finger
9000 lawyers return to cigarette smoking
LikeLike
one thing about playing chess with a Dollar Store robot
the ordinariness of daily life becomes suspended
even simple people find life adventuresome
full of meaning and purpose
the snap of a finger
flashing lights
the ER crew
LikeLike
up for the role of the boy
who suffered the broken finger
but the robot was embarrassing
ancient spice girls turning heads
zero adventurous expectancy
thousand-fold spice
LikeLike
went to a pool party
five people drowned but no one noticed
the police took my photo but it was someone else
I gave my real name but they couldn’t spell it
he kept saying, “Mister Pedro”
but I wasn’t in the water
I pointed to my feet
chlorine and metal
———-
———-
the circle was formed
00O00: so the witch was invisible
all ages come to harvest
peculiarities
peccadillos
LikeLike
people at the party claimed to be nice and rosy
but they were “apples of Sodom”
deafening trumpet sounds
straight from the clouds
clocks out of time
volcano smells
self pity galore
I pushed
Robert Frost
off the shelves
LikeLike
In the deep end
the exotic juices
from far off lands
blend and transcend
with celestial joy
and heartfelt sorrow
In the shallows
teeth with glands
attached to hollow bones
gnaw at the marrow
as a witch under law
walks upon a curse
to a borrowed tomorrow
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too long the football games
the players with teeth and glands
too long the basketball games
the players with teeth and glands
too long the baseball games
the players with teeth and glands
television broadcasts the witch
LikeLike
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sucking the nutrition
from pleated skirts and cardigan sweaters
gnawing the leather from oxford shoes
keeping what is worth keeping
—(view the moon nightly)—
LikeLike
(+) never play hide-and-seek with silence
Eve requiring attention and patience
Adam and Eve @ Intimately Glued
sometimes when Adam belched
one could smell resentment
Heaven without corners
largely a smokescreen
LikeLike
just saying,
“if you are in a scary place
don’t go towards the painful screams”
living in a contraption
with a hungry gland
pounding heart
sex baby
LikeLike
it is always the same
the coffee is too strong
it is too weak
wrong color
outside
zombies chew on faces
explainable in part by mercury fillings
and nightmares of tubular furniture
LikeLike
In the retro disco scene
of Placebo Town
cocaine is the poetry
that wakes you up
like a blow to the brain
and lets you Go-Go
all over again and again
In the bordellos
and flophouses
of Placebo Town
heroin is the poetry
that slows the madness down
so you don’t hear a sound
Heads without faces
in a crumpled FedEx box
marked ‘Lost and Not Found’
LikeLike
step outside Eden
healthy individuals
love their ailments
the whole : Johnny Rotten:
the major mementos
those free of cages
the refuge camps
everything touched
by pain
LikeLike
erroneous
animal sedatives
gravity doubled
no standing straight
difficult to locate
what one can’t recall
life
after death
in more focus
than life before death
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the Tree of Life
is now a pharmacy
the Tree of Knowledge
has been substituted
for a plastic counterfeit
from a Chinese factory
Caffeine and Ketamine
the poetry of sleep
mannequins covered
in a shroud of white
the last kiss
of a sedated bliss
fading
into an endless night
try as it might
even the sweet breath
of death
cannot awaken me
from a tunnel of darkness
forsaking the light
to my deepest relief
Sister Morphine
and Brother Nicotine
have delivered
their bitter salvation
and performed
my last rites
with the sacrament
of oblivion
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