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 
Emily resides
in Placebo Town
where she refuses
to help make care packages
of chewing gum and toiletries
for the troops engaged in battle
“murder is murder”
her lips did speak
otherwise, Jesus
returns to
the cross
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whilst travelling
the dataless wilderness
of a strange land
a country without wi-fi or pity
and totally
at the mercy of Blog
I was tied to a post
and blogged
within an inch of my life
as a stateless refugee
from the highway of bloggery
the deletion
of my archives of insanity
was the only way to be set free
of my megabytes of history
my google searches
now out of reach
… and to think
despite the omnipresence
of the holy search engine
some say there is no Blog!?
obviously
suspect spam
and bots of misinformation
LikeLike
THE BLOG BEYOND THE REACH OF TIME
search engines resemble tomato worms
———0———
Emily is in this world
but no longer of it
often confused
she advertises
her gender
by dancing nude
much to the delight
of honey bees
and the postman
she has been warned
to go indoors
for that sort of thing
———0———
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THE PISS AND BLISS OF ROMANCE
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++partnership or rape ?
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hanging out with Emily
in the back of a Hallmark Greeting Card store
the wilderness of hereafter was on her mind
“gonna take the choo-choo train
and escape town
take the choo-choo train
and step out of time”
Emily swears that
Death pooped
in her rose
garden
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inside the mind of Emily Dickinson
swimmers never reach the other side
waves become themes, life then death
little poet girl in a constant struggle
her Lord has a dong, she has none
LikeLike
Ava’s conversion therapy
is progressing steadily
after escaping
the clutches of Urzula
that German feminazi
(a librarian from Dusseldorf
was just her Stasi cover story)
left with a sore behind
after a farewell session
back in sunny Fiji
with Viking Mother
Freya the Valkyrie
(Urzula will think twice before
she ever tries again
to pull a loaded weapon on me!)
Ava even gave
Not So Little Lolita
a plus sized strap-on
(‘Big Emily’ ®
respectfully named
in honour of Emily Dickinson)
for her seventeen birthday
when I commented that
it would come in handy
Lolita just smiled
saying she couldn’t wait
to try it out on me!
I think perhaps
Not So Little Lolita
is getting too old for me? 🤔🕶️
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Number #1 problem with a strap-on
they are made far too big
Number #2 problem with a strap-on
temperature
———0———
the mention of a strap-on
God’s experiment gone wrong
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(+acknowledging subservience+)
what a hobby
Emily Dickinson
outside laws and expectations
outside charades and parlor games
Emily pissing rust, intimate with pain
her small envelope dribbles, no stream
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employment at the Acknowledgement of Subservience
sustaining a regulated life at work and at home
Emily guarding her collection of adult eggs
her precious baby colony hungry
wounded and sobered
by the lack of seed
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you ask us to sing
and we sing
you taught us to wrestle
before we ejaculate
———0———
THE PROHIBITIVE ESSENCE OF GOD
(God’s fury spent, the Ark parked)
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finding Ava motionless
on Lolita’s bed
I called for an ambulance
assuming she was dead
eventually a forensic pathologist
was called to remove Big Emily ®
from Ava’s swollen cuniculus
all nordic blonde and fluffy
at which point she jumped up
like a startled rabbit 🐰
and with a spasmodic gasp
sighed …
“Well, that was most funiculus!”
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one hand rejoices with our happiness
the other sympathizes with our pain
each can wound us, each has
our denial, our acceptance
at the monkey house
Gore Vidal tossing
poop at Erica Jong
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the stagnation of pain without end
extremities of suffering
devils in treetops
whistling
self taught isolation
boundaries of understanding
false emblems and dinosaur bones
———0———
no history before 1900
all that old crap came from somewhere else
do not be confused, the evidence is not fake
it was imported and painfully planted
a charming lot of nonsense
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rows and rows of porcelain women
dusted daily by the library lesbian
tons of saccharine valentines
taken and given freely
any and all love notes
read, reread
devoured
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Lolita is so lovely
she takes my car
without even asking me
and goes to McDonald’s
for a Big Mac and a McFlurry
Lolita is so very hungry
at least she brings me back
a Wild Cherry Slurpee
with a Mighty McMuffin
Lolita is so very sweet to me
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Dollar Store vocabulary/Dollar Store syntax
for rendering sentiments of pain and loss
the library with all its possibilities
———0———
meanwhile at the Honeymoon Hotel
educated medical personnel
attempt to calibrate
the sex organs
of newlyweds
——0——
that which is done
is that which
shall be
done
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grasping for
Dollar Store worthiness
a team sport
at Poetry Sweat Shop
desperation seeking
the holy vindication
of existence
retirees and refugees
from the game of life
sifting the meaningless
redacted reminiscences
of the Honeymoon Hotel
the Night Manager
holding a carving knife
the bellboy is jealous
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A MUSEUM OF JOCKSTRAPS
a museum of jockstraps
jealous bellboy
overworked
———0———
marihuana:
pot from 20 years ago: one would pray that the buzz would last and last
pot from today: one prays that the buzz will fade away quickly
———0———
when Ahab was complete, he wore Beatle boots
he knew the meaning and the definition
one must know the language
live the language
tongues speak of many things
secretly, people want to know
your level of submission
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your level of submission:
(+) stand ye in the shadow of Leviathan (+)
only insofar as you accept being a servant
blow your horn
beat your drum
wrestle man and beast
LikeLiked by 1 person
pockmarks
of resentment
airport bitch face
departure lounging
embarking entitlement
bringing out
the best in the worst
in the turbulence
of empty head space
trolley pushing
airline staff
dishing out
the plastic service
as the great unwashed
ferment
in the tropical heat
that fetid scent
of the criminal classes
like the digestive tract
of a carrion scavenger
turned inside out
pervading the nostrils
of my private space
what price
an oxygen mask?
the Chinaman
looking just like
a sawn-off Jackie Chan
with his face down
and Nike laces undone
the old hippie woman
dressed like a clown
tattoos wrinkled
in the ancient sun
bleached skin and bone
the Dutch girl
blue eyes
pink iphone
setting out for some
backpacking fun
and the rest
of that jetsetting horde
destined for
their final connection
just as Phobetor
the very last
passenger to board
takes his seat
all the lifejackets
start to melt
the sky grows dark
and jet fuel splashes
onto the tarmac
from an unseen leak
LikeLike
trying to lift and carry Leonard Cohen
My Oh My, had you in my arms
asking for the consummation
that is often denied
our final embrace
———————-one more wounding
———————-one more loss
LikeLike
arrive in an egg
crack the shell, escape
immediate anguish and ecstasy
after the production of semen
Heaven becomes unavailable
LikeLike
Bowie was beat into compliance
light without color
the blacksmith
hammering
out the Blackstar
with the loosening of restrictions
rape became a community sport, a pastime
(+) peeking between the slats of a venetian blind
(+) fingering the flaps of the tent upside down sideways
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the poets of Placebo Town
turn the signalling of virtue
into an art form
romantic love into cheap porn
and the mundane drama
of their daily lives
into a tempestuous storm
of epic proportions
as the Head Librarian
fastens her strap on
in preparation
for the collective wORKSHOP karma
salivating with anticipation
for Big Emily® has awoken
and is fully loaded with wokeism
LikeLike
the strap on
serves only fears and uncertainties
perhaps, enthusiastic pain oversteps definition
Satan seems interested in the length of the shadow
cast by the mighty strap on
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having come only to depart (Jesus rattles the bones and vanishes in the overhead)
———0———
man, woman, child
the quest for the
unattainable
standing in line for pancakes
eternal life and happiness
———0———
having come only to depart (Jesus rattles the bones and vanishes in the overhead)
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facing a blank screen:
“why did I get off the boat
in Placebo Town and not that other place ?”
words stolen from the upper reaches of the mind
loved ones complain about the fences surrounding me
little do they know the number of safeguards employed
the FBI knock and knock each morning, crazed woodpeckers
endless crap
do I know The Night Porter ?
did I loan an automobile to him ?
why were firearms registered to me
constantly turning up at crime scenes ?
The Night Porter
not only tries to master reality
he wishes to rearrange it
to battle all obstacles
he must be violent
to shit the pants
of others
LikeLike
I started the session
“every song being the echo of another song”
imitative sexual positions flash on the screen
pick one and go to it
avoiding eye contact
grapple and struggle
try to push yourself
where you belong
your tongue
touching
another
tongue
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in the undertow
a space to come
a time to go
a place to belong
down below
eye to eye
blow by blow
long and strong
in the overflow
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hazard a guess
PHALLIC BRUTALITY
squabbles at the Honeymoon Hotel
each and every centerpiece, a boggy hollow
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seeding
a future generation
reciprocating
an ultimate altruism
private parts in spasms
anticipating
a fulsome blossoming
with jissom released
into a wellspring blessed
the joyful ring
of attachments
and catchments
lubricated
and unleashed
body and soul
poetically flowing
into the very fabric
of the universal whole
the earth shaking
in an explosion
of holy unison
heaven’s angel’s
ecstatically singing
over the treasure
of pure pleasure
with the giving
and the taking
seeding
a future generation
(unless, of course, you’re
wearing a condom 😎👍)
LikeLike
Bride and Groom
manipulating the terms
of some equation and seeking
a solution, not extensive but sufficient
although the lobby was often crowded
not a single happy face
the will to seize and control
like a hideous Halloween mask
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(MEMORY): pulling my stockings off
———0———
a taste never brewed which translates to a taste never tasted
dry lips before the Crucifixion, numb from anguish
(+) words concocted for the reader’s analysis
outpouring ? leaking ? ever-fleeing emotions
———0———
compromise becomes compensate
compromise becomes compensate
———0———
outside a thousand small frogs
all blink at the same time
each one with
unanswered
longings
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The Tyrannosaurus Rex
of all fearsomeness
that tyrant lizard king
turned out to be
nothing but a mouse
Had no one else noticed
that parking ticket
on the windscreen
of a hearse driving past?
Was it waiting for me
having a soul illegally parked
and so obviously unroadworthy?
An infringement notice
with the lot
along with all the evidence
had disappeared without a trace
Good karma
. . . or grace and mercy?
With not a moment’s study
the rules of a fixed race
I passed the test
after circling the drain
and left in the dust
of a place never seen
by the brightest and the best
Yet the rings of smoke
from a magic forest
could not hold me
at the Last Resort
despite the generous discount
a buffet breakfast to die for
and the kind offer
of a late check-out
The ferryman then told me
that my journey
had forever been
paid in advance
but not a word about
who’d paid the price
or who held my hand
whilst skating the thin ice
as the Tyrannosaurus Rex
of fearsomeness
that tyrant lizard king
turned out to be just a louse
nothing but a squashed bug
on the windscreen
of a hearse driving past
LikeLike
I remember God using the word, UNROADWORTHY
lowered eyes
denial
an ocean of denial
liquid inadequacies
Placebo Town without moral moorings
valued treasures of tradition
just float away
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in the Dreamtime
I’m on a roadtrip
with a good friend
from childhood
who died on heroin
LikeLike
Yes, death piles up at the garage entrance
evidence of life, car parts, plane engines
Percy Shelley standing next to his tombstone
putting the negative before the positive
“come home, Percy…..where you belong”
real-life parables are common
I AM NOT IN QUARANTINE
I AM UNKNOWN
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WHAT IS IT ALL ABOUT:
absolute allegiance among the angels and staff
those who are external to us and impure
those who wish to infect us
take our ticket and seat
to Hell with them
LikeLike
a lesson about specialized function:
the human penis
an elephant trunk
TURN OFF THE LIGHTS
a presence that is difficult to deny
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my penis
doesn’t worry
much about money
that’s all left up to me
I don’t think much
about sex
my penis considers that
it’s primary duty
whilst playing
Physical Graffiti
if nothing else
my penis
takes it very seriously
listening all night long
to The Wanton Song
it really is a silly dong!
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the penis is an image of God in the minds of men
moment-to-moment, day-to-day
differences in sensitivity
a simple touch
a Ball Peen
hammer
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Ava invited me
and not so little Lolita
to her lesbian life drawing workshop
as a special outing for the two of us
first we had to take our clothes off
and sit there drawing
this morbidly obese comedian
I’d seen on the television once
(I was already praying it would stop)
and chatting amongst ourselves
then we all drew this Latino woman
and listened intently to her life story
about having her breasts cut off
as she preferred to be a man
a voluntary double mastectomy
… by choice!
regarding my doodles
people were exceedingly complimentary
saying my drawings were reminiscent
of Lucian Freud … the dead artist
it was surprisingly comfortable
just sitting there naked
drinking Jack Daniels on ice
all the girls were very nice
and not a single one of them
tried touching my penis
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THE PENIS
constantly wanting to slip back into adolescence
to submerge and come up again a thousand times
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“Arrogance
… Thy Name Is Penis?”
came the words
down from Mount Olympus
with a thunderous clap
the epic fate of all mankind
that of King Sisyphus the Penis
getting it up time after time
only to have his rocks off
and then as a consequence
going downhill and soft
such hard punishment
living a life of lustful randiness
leading only to a frightful mess
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ball pouch spiderwebbed with wrinkles
tiptoeing past the relaxed dong
the nothingness of man
the groans and wails
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Yes … testicles do tend to make
a spectacle of themselves the way
they swing backwards and forwards 🍒
Romance = Vagina and Penis
Arrogance = Penis
Bromance = Two Penises
Loneliness = A Penis by itself
Happenstance = A Virgina open to romance
Ignorance = A Penis thinking for itself
Fat Chance = The possibility of romance with
an obese lesbian comedian
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low luster sex/no luster sex
grandfathers say, “the worst sex is better than no sex”
men chuckle, women think of unwanted children and disease
the masturbation folks preach PRACTICE, discover your own approach
birthday gifts in a cheap motel
a thick condom
and no luster sex
you remember kissing
but that was a long time ago
you kissed at Christmas under mistletoe
a strong relish scent, a souvenir from supper
agonizing eye contact
knowing the struggle to come
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the harder the polish
the brighter the luster
gilded with guilt
lust is a force
many never master
that total control
over penis and virgina
only to let go
and release
in the fullness of desire
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wherever strangers are rare, they are welcome
hungry lips searching for mine
brother/sister I am married
with Satan behind me
ready to push
if necessary
how do
I stay out of
this dilemma ?
the abundance of lips in my life
desperate for passionate contact
ready to mingle spit, sweat, semen
spectators welcome to applaud
sometimes my lips take
a siesta inside
my mouth
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pOETRY wORKSHOP:
poetry about God loving himself
what do you say ?
grab your numbers
measure/multiply
——0——
more or less
than I ought
but what do I say ?
God loving himself
——0——
a boneyard full of individuals
who found it more meritorious
to love their enemies
than their friends
——0——
adhere to thy God
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anxiety in relation to the topic of lips pressing against themselves
often specific details are buried beyond immediate recall
sessions of lip contact are predictable, identifiable
and in the youth arena, containable
(+) Picasso with his oral yearnings
(+) belly dancer nipple covers
(+) nipple covers for pets
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the lukewarm grounds of comfort
are thick with footprints
and candy wrappers
misfortune
feels no shame
it urinates outdoors
soaking innocent bystanders
wear it home, mellow and yellow
———0———
poetry: nonessential activity
“To transcend is to perish”
LikeLike
the true self
sarcastic
callous
all the baggage
that goes with being a man
nothing but one-way streets
unrequited love leaving town
pretending indifference
hands refused to wave
faces turned away
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sobriety
in the rear shadows
farther back than most people go
desires and wants, dark and complex
too late for any midcourse adjustments
(+) naval deep in quicksand, you accept realignment
LikeLike
those easily wounded
reside in the caves of kindness
where ugliness is not recognized
no matter your name
you can find love
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globs of sperm racing down the pee tube
tortoises-on-meth
their shells hot
tongues out
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“Honey Child, why do you live where the police hesitate to go ?”
petty vices/pointless agony
Sister come home
her box soaked
my playtime pal
not my lawful wife
LikeLike
paying for services rendered
shocked by a smile
a kind word
————————kissing a man who enjoys trawling
through a dictionary for the unusual
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seeing myself in a mirror
satisfied
I could do no better
redundant details
in the center of inessential facts
Michael holding a Michael in each hand
LikeLike
pOETRY wORKSHOP:
AN ADDITIONAL ANAL DIMENSION
an additional anal dimension
(+) lava
(+) larva
the sinister cave of man
Surrealists refer to as the “fetid ditch”
where demon parents hide brown Easter eggs
where demon children hunt brown Easter eggs
excremental forces
blustering eruptions
answering the torment
(involuntary defecation)
———0———
(+) sadomasochistic impulses (+)
———0———
the average person projects a second self
that person performs all bathroom functions
———your second self, subordinate———
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an old street poet
high on smack
gave me permission
to blow it up
at Poetry Workshop
where nothing
is as it seems
they have a machine
that creates variations
of The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams
versions full
of sweet dreams
flowers
and a copy
of House Beautiful Magazine
all mixed together
in repetition
once in a dream
… or possibly a vision
I saw that wheelbarrow
full of feathers
it was red
from all the blood
and chicken entrails
dripping off it
at Poetry Workshop
nothing is as it seems
an old street poet
with a heroin habit
gave me permission
to blow it up
as he handed me
the means
with a hot shot
of beat poetry
… just for luck
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YOUR SECOND SELF
an anal perpetrator
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professing allegiance to infantile sexuality
the red wagon
pushed around town
prayer books and hymnals
memories cherished
others not so much
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waiting at McDonald’s
for not so little Lolita
to finish her midnight shift
sitting opposite to me
an aging bikie
black leather fading
hair weathered grey
tattoos sagging
moving stiff and sore
and just over there
a young junkie
obviously waiting to score
and soar
to a place where the pain
is set adrift
in the endless meantime
nervously sipping coffee
probably remembering
her last McDonald’s
birthday party
blowing out the candles
and excitedly opening gifts
then comes the tears
an exchange of hostages
three toddlers
and their seperated parents
arguing a negotiation
right outside the door
desperation painted
on blood drained faces
“This ain’t what family life
is meant to be about!”
with an explosion of mascara
comes not so little Lolita
complaining how
doing the drive-thru
for hours on end
without a chair to sit on
is giving her a bad back
that … and
making love in the back seat
of my car
on the way home
I could hear her spine crack
through the gasping
of her final moan
“If you adopt me
I wouldn’t have to work there
anymore!?
You could be my sugar daddy,
and I could be your whore.”
I almost choked on my Big Mac
“What about your fifty percent
staff discount?
I just couldn’t live without it!”
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under the red paint
there was a hint
of a lubricious
leer
a simple wagon
each wheel a
returned
runaway
discarded products
of promiscuous encounters
each wheel
had a name
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THE DAY OF RUNNING NOSE WHEELIES HAS PASSED
one might question the vulnerability
of the four wheels of the wagon
(+) the runaway
(+) the returned runaway
———0———
having the ones you love
stolen from you
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PASSING POINTS IN TIME
with four wheels rolling on the ground
take a big tissue
just in case of a haiku 🤧
followed by “Bless You!”
THE PAST JUST POINTS IN TIME
with four wheels buried underground
LikeLike
Bob Dylan wishing he had peopled more people than God
dreaming he could grow enough food in his pocket
to feed the world
that crafty Bob Dylan
with his penis in his hand
making mention of his circumcision
“Boys and Girls, these are the rings of reincarnation”
LikeLike
the day comes when you loosen your grip
your kingly self and treasure chest
will just drift off into the breeze
(Bob Dylan will have to recycle
himself in a proper manner)
LikeLike
I left my heart 🖤
in San Francisco
along with the wilted
flowers in my hair
but I got my mojo back
playing blackjack
at the Placebo Town casino
where if you’re a winner
they pat you on the back
with an iron bar 🤕🕶️
whilst the showgirls
eat you for dinner 🍗 👄
LikeLike
Tony Bennett lived on a planet
with a God
that was full of anger
about sin
they say that this God
had a son
lucky enough
to have lived a perfect life
unfortunately
one day, God tortured and killed his son
this was done so that the chasm
between Tony and God
could be bridged
although deceased he is employed
endless songs, blank notes
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Every good thing given
and every perfect gift is from above;
it comes down from the Father of lights
[the Creator and Sustainer of the heavens],
in whom there is no variation
[no rising or setting]
or shadow cast by His turning
[for He is perfect and never changes].
~ Amplified James
( … and God had a son
the visible manifestation
of the Invisible God)
For God so [greatly] loved
and dearly prized the world,
that He [even] gave His [One and] only
begotten Son
[Jesus, God’s only Son,
the One who is truly unique
the only one of His kind]
so that whoever believes
and trusts in Him [as Savior]
shall not perish, but have eternal life.
This is the message
[of God’s promised revelation]
which we have heard from Him
and now announce to you,
that God is Light
[He is holy, His message is truthful,
He is perfect in righteousness],
and in Him there is no darkness at all
[no sin, no wickedness, no imperfection].
~ Amplified John
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I was told to keep my eyes open
that Tony would be beside the road
and yes, there he was leaning against a sign
the famous Tony Bennett rip-roaring dead
I honked the horn and waved
Dylan called later
happy as hell
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I saw Lady Gaga
by that road sign gagging
after a mouthful of old Tony
she always does
what a lady has to
to buy time in the House of Gucci
Tony thought it was delightful
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Lady Gaga was on the evening news
organized crime over and done
with the passing of T. Bennett
Lady Gaga could bring back
the color to her vocals
no more sepia
sauerkraut
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when Lady Gaga took off her meat dress
Tony Bennett was so surprised
she was meat underneath
I blame the dementia
as poor Tony forgot
to bring the gravy
a secret recipe
he got from Frank Sinatra
so the older-younger
bunga bunga hunger with Lady Gaga
was rather brief
and left a carnivorous taste
in Tony Bennett’s mouth
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