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 
THE NORMATIVE WORLD
one longs to rejoin
a reworking
of the already written
——-a world proud of its fire
LikeLike
spying an agent of Death
mimicking the mathematical process
by which a person approaches zero
(+) possibly today—-farewell
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having the pleasure
of dying more than once
I now treasure this life
as an unexpected bonus
with a fortuitous destination
in knowing Jesus Christ
so in this meantime
of slow motion Armageddon
I watch the slideshow
of end times destruction
and it’s endless
street parade of crime
with the sure
and certain knowledge
that everything
will eventually be fine
no weapon forged against you
no word magic
or tarot card trick
can undo
or tear apart
what you know is true
and what God has planted
deep inside
the very heart of you
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talk of the New Liquor
on the lips at death
THAT IS A LIE
death is barefoot
walking on sperms and eggs
agony creeping into your pores
you realize the stranger
has removed your stockings
removed your space socks and feet
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passing through
one day the true exit
Eve proud of her attempts to blunt
her love and affection diminishing
the gait of adversity and suffering
John Wayne boots up your behind
———0———
———0———
outdoors
children are given balm
to numb the anguish of worms
LikeLike
I’m being drained
conned full time
spanked and hacked
scammed and slammed
by a juvenile delinquent
consensual sex addict
without a thankyou man
or even asking for consent
I’m living on vitamin pills
Red Bulls
and methamphetamine
till I can get out of this jam
even my doctor is worried
he’s recommended an immediate
testosterone transfusion
Linda is oblivious
she thinks I’m just being nice
to an orphaned nymphomaniac
… or she couldn’t care less?
Ava is plain jealous
and Viking Mother thinks
my predicament is hilarious
either way
I’m heading for a massive
cardiac arrest
if the police don’t get me first
as there’s been rumours emanating
from the local Chinese restaurant
and complaints
from the nearby Walmart
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struggling with Torah
passing through
as a white ape
(+) Abrahamic Covenant (+)
narcissistic and self-indulgent
——-outside Eden——-
(+) I AM A WITHERED TREE (+)
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a white ape
raised by foreigners
a white ape
with an everlasting name
“I gather to those already gathered”
(+) hold fast, the Michael Avenue
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disobedience
for me and for those like me
my name etched on my withered trunk
numerically significant, the many Michaels
others see my image, but I am more than that
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(Q.) why are there no children in Heaven
(A.) because there are no females in Heaven
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“Don’t you love the Oxford Dictionary?
When I first read it, I thought it was a
really really long poem about everything.”
~ David Bowie
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Amedeo Modigliani told me that
painting a beautiful woman naked
transports him to heaven
but then . . . he is Italian
and seldom paints with his pants on
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a planetary playground
full of mischievous children
believing they know everything
the law givers of Placebo Town
are at their wit’s end
preaching their sermons
but hardly anybody is listening
so out of frustration
they break a few heads saying
that’ll teach them a lesson
and hopefully stop them
fighting for their right to party
meanwhile …
at Poetry Workshop
they all took turns
reciting their favourite sonnet
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OXFORD DICTIONARY
A masculine book
full of private stuff about men
Heaven and Earth
Noah with his pants down
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all that secret woman’s stuff
is found in Roget’s Thesaurus
as Roget can’t keep his mouth shut
LikeLiked by 1 person
the apes suggest that their God
prefers torture
prefers torture
prefers torture
to instant execution
Christians floating across the river to Texas
from a difficult night
to the next day
the evil sky
unchanging
specters watching
who will weaken and fall
to perish on God’s terms
———0———
the river tinted with unfulfilled yearnings
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I have been
to the very edge
of that sacred place
where everything
makes perfect sense
where love divine
heals the darkest past
as the light of heaven
reveals all that was hidden
shining clear through
to the deepest part
at the broken heart
of me . . . and you
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it is no secret that God loves broken bones
any and all self-defeating management of men
the shepherd that guides his animals off the cliff
God with his far-reaching flashlight
innocent or guilty, no one can hide
THE CLOCK STRIKES
the last stroke is the last
and no other
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it’s out in the open
God loves a fat offering
and blesses him
who waters the garden
of his fellow man
Then he shall remove all its fat,
just as the fat was removed from
the sacrifice of peace offerings;
and the priest shall offer it up in
smoke on the altar for a soothing
aroma to the Lord. Thus the priest
shall make atonement for him,
and he will be forgiven.
Leviticus 4:31
The liberal soul shall be made fat:
and he that watereth shall be watered
also himself.
He that withholdeth corn, the people
shall curse him: but blessing shall be
upon the head of him that selleth it.
He that diligently seeketh good
procureth favour: but he that seeketh
mischief, it shall come unto him.
Proverbs 11:25-27 King James
The generous man [is a source of blessing
and] shall be prosperous and enriched,
and he who waters will himself be watered
[reaping the generosity he has sown].
The people curse him who holds back grain
[when the public needs it], But a blessing
[from God and man] is upon the head of him
who sells it.
He who diligently seeks good seeks favour
and grace, but he who seeks evil, evil will
come to him.
Proverbs 11:25-27 Amplified
The righteous person may have many
troubles, but the Lord delivers him
from them all; he protects all his bones,
not one of them will be broken. Evil will
slay the wicked; the foes of the righteous
will be condemned.
Psalms 34:19-20
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disquieting memories associated with base pleasures
conjuring up full length movies
Neanderthals
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talk around the flames
the entire body an object of pleasure
considerable discharges, the sperm stick
glowing white late at night
Helen Keller wishing
there was more
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illness cut off parts of Helen Keller’s fullness
they say that she had ugly knees
and odd goat breasts
hardly a virgin
molested
in so many ways
the origins of life
———0———
cheap dime store panties pushed over to the side
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when Helen was a child
she was often punished
forced to live outdoors
———
(+) vulnerable, uprooted. Helen Keller, every minute of every hour: History.
———
eros outdoors
she wrestled love to the ground
but marriage was denied
———
“I may be blind but I can see through your eyes
ashamed at what I reveal, up above, down below”
LikeLike
GYN POETRY
daredevil pursuits/clitoral gymnastics
nonsexual people complaining
train tracks over a headache
just enjoying the moment
seems impossible
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EPEOLATRY WORKSHOP
a safe place
for the anonymous
where more is less
in the trivial pursuit
of meaninglessness
as another engorged quote
gets shoved in your face
with a squirt of smugness
that stuff gets
into every crevice
and is so hard to wash off
passive resistance
or active acceptance
is the question
I’d really like to ask
of the taskmaster
before being
hung from the ceiling
and prompted to death
for the crime of complaining
once or twice in the past
about an imaginary sex life
EPEOLATRY WORKSHOP
is a poetic bitch
lost in verbosity
and a pain in the ass
LikeLike
Barbie’s gynaecologist
is a plastic surgeon 😷
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Dear Child, fear not the vampire
that creature relishes females
and there are no womenfolk
no girl animals or birds
this is here and now
not somewhere
coughed up
by a cat
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the mugshot of a white ape
with hair coughed up
by a rabid alley cat
that geriatric Blues Brother
heading for the slammer
primates of America
reassuring each other
they’re on a mission from Godzilla
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———0———
what remains after the show is over
———0———
the room full of males
with breeding fancies
stand with their legs
spread, dangling
Mister Scrotum
——–it evokes the presence of a superior being
a God whose language is ejaculative
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SLEEP
unnatural flights
where contours are safe
———–widening me speculation
“I am to be, I am done”
touched with Adam
touched with shade
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boundaries closing in on me existence
try not to alarm my knees
floor-crawling
without proper funds
———0———
a pickle pecker + an inch
———0———
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random thoughts:
+ remarriage among lesbians
+lesbians troubled about home economics
+ menopausal lesbians
+ lesbians who think that they look like Keanu Reeves
+lesbians who actually look like Keanu Reeves
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when I was younger
so much younger than today
my beneficial lover
was a bicurious lesbian
she could see I needed help
in every possible way
without airs and graces
she put me through her paces
but Little Susie was never
a dick about it
as I was no pussy
yet we came together
like innocent children at play
nothing like exploring Neverland
with a bicurious lesbian
she was no proper lady
and I was no courteous gentleman
God … I miss Little Susie 🥲🕶️
of her I reminisce most fondly
and with a great … affection 💝
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each day becomes a staged scene
words are spoken from habit
hands covered in blood
peace and love
at what cost
never you mind
I’m told to stand outdoors
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gravity holds you tight to the shore
you welcome the moving waters
of the erotic ocean
———0———
ever so happy
with your youngling dong
each day is your wedding festival
guaranteed to bed a fresh maiden
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at first no one spoke
of the prior trespass
———-willy-nilly, you were not an adult
the event was deflated
your cucumber safe
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the spiritual spoons were nervous
(religious cutlery from the distant past)
———0———
a period of time long forgotten
riding on a large motorcycle
behind a stud puppy
a real man
holding on tight
feeling safe, aroused
a thousand miles or more
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the spiritual spoons were nervous
———0———
in the semidarkness
I could not see my feet
a threshold
I could not stand
rather performative
adult crawling
–0–
evermore
no less
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each day
waking into emptiness
a gradual tempering of the Michael
self-forgetful at the close of evening
the millions not repaired
the millions hungry
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at a late-night library lesbian event
———0———
“I was not born through intercourse
I was pulled from a man
He suckled
poetically, I suckled
You can see where I was cut
my grandeur gone
my Hebraic Penis”
LikeLike
That Miniscule Reduction
a circumvention
at the event horizon
in preparation
for a smooth reentry
into the vacuum
of inner space
anybody
and everybody
even the head librarian
can hear you scream
with the cream of induction
into quivering flesh
a giant leap for mankind
that little death
of gran turismo seduction
in Placebo Town
they’re selling tickets
for the very next splashdown
so wear a raincoat
over your sunday best
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It is true
I have a small room
in the back of the library
come and go for $70 a week
they say that I am a Michael
my definition stolen from a book
dwarfed, way short of a real laureate
LikeLike
As ever
searching
for ground zero
somewhere
over the next hill
I was kissed by a witch
deep in the woods
on the outskirts
of Jacksonville
but all I could hear
was the chackling of politicians
standing around a cauldron
on a podium
with a storm approaching
blowing in
from the Carribbean
As ever
not so little Lolita
unable to conform
was dressed to kill
on the way to school
in a very short skirt
with stockings torn
but being sports day
she should’ve been
in her sports uniform
forcing me to administer
a good spanking
deep in the woods
as I well know
she loves a bit of discipline
with a storm approaching
and a swollen ground zero
about to blow open
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came from a tribe
that started each day on drugs
12 years of schooling, 12 years of fooling
the shit that crazy ass people thought was important
each Michael had his cigarette brand
late at night all alone, smoking Camels
late at night all alone, smoking Winstons
I had a talking mirror and friends long dead
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as a colonial boy
I smoked the same brand
as Van Morrison
… Wild Woodbine
sold in packs of ten
and at a price
even a kid could afford
the man at the local store
would smile
as he handed them over
thinking an addict for life
years later
he was stopped by the police
driving aimlessly around town
in the boot of his car
the dead body of his wife
I remember
he had a beautiful daughter
a friend of my older sister
about that time
needing something stronger
I switched brands to Camel
with that rich taste
of Turkish tobacco
a few years later
I bought my first hookah pipe
then …
having left it at a friend’s house
that was raided by the drug squad
a photo of it ended up
on the front page of the local paper
my hookah pipe was now famous
my friend Arno had been
minding his own business
having a quiet harmless puff
when a policeman’s arm
reached in
through an open window
and snatched the pipe
right out of Arno’s mouth
from the meaningless
to the ridiculously ludicrous
and I never got
my hookah pipe back
LikeLiked by 1 person
———0———
so corrupt that God removed both
———0———
subject to sudden change
I cripple around in public
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my low-limbed family tree
———0———
gravestones washed
ready to retire
any and all intentions
to memorialize
cleansed
LikeLike
Of all the beer joints
in all the known cosmos
that an old Zen Buddhist
could go to drown
his karmic sorrow
I just had to
stumble across
the Bar of Mo
where despairing souls
finding life too hollow
go to nihilistically wallow
That is until Mo put on
a Wayang Kulit Karaoke
Shadow Puppets On Ice
Muppet Tango Dance Hall
Electric Kool-Aid
Laser Light Show
Now we all look forward
to the next performance
at the Bar of Mo
(not far from the forest
where the sacred
mushrooms grow)
later today . . . and
perhaps even tomorrow
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pulled out an old family photograph
there I was, a young Michael
my mind cultivating:
deprivation
isolation
a reality heavy with replacement
viewed as a necessary
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the voyeuristic world
I openly permit them
to see all of me
behind their eyes
silent dialogue:
“He won’t last long
darkness in daylight”
———0———
———0———
a smile on my face for the removal men
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in the mirror I was smudged
a lot of nothing
to be wiped
away
—0—
apple picking
or some nonsense
young studs climbing
to the tops of their ladders
tossing buckets of seed skyward
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apple picking
with its ladders
the poet fantasizes
about climbing through
perhaps the Christmas tree
BOTANIZING AND MASTURBATING
LikeLike
The Witches of WordPress
get high upon a lie
that everything with them
is going oh so swell
(when in fact they’re lives
are full of fearful woe
yet reading their blogs
and seeing their smiling
online profile shots
you’d never ever know)
so you should be jealous
with the magic of photoshop
and their numerous
tragic romantic fumbles
coming down from on top
underneath the caress
of a psychopathic riding crop
an esoteric elixir
casting a potent spell
mixed together
with a poetic tincture
can’t you smell that smell?
that aroma of living death
that will tie you to a post
uploaded from hell
beyond any proof
as for the truth
their words shall never tell
those witches of WordPress
and their mysterious secrets
in the shape of a ripe apple
a mystical trick of the tail
always something to sell
once you get past the drama
and the head trauma
the truth of this life
is rather simple
there is a big bad wolf
hungry for your death
wanting you to forever fail
yet there is a saviour
who wishes you the best
with success in every test
who loves you
and wants you to have it all
forgiveness
completeness
with joy in abundance
can’t you hear him call
beyond the shrieks and cackles
of those witches of WordPress?
just because I was once kissed
by a witch in the woods
doesn’t mean
I don’t still have a choice
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just for the record:
——–0——–
I am into image editing
I am a Photoshop virgin
LikeLike
just for the record:
———— 🤔 ———-
the witch wanted more than a kiss
but I was too high on her magic
potion to remember what to do next
not even how or why
…. like a virgin
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talk of his smooth bean
exclusively male
withering
babies
(+) fails to intervene with a sufficiently emotional reaction
LikeLike
all out at sea
flamboyancy
kept my head
above the flames
of an incendiary diary
pages torn out
with great sensitivity
and set on fire
at the rotten base
of a family tree
all out at sea
the wind gives chase
as the dead
are soon forgotten
and replaced
with a lust for life
sailing ahead
to a golden horizon
that leads to eternity
flamboyancy
is the place to be
for a sailor
all out at sea
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all the women that he loved
sticking to the top
of a circus tent
admission
includes a quick peek
at their pee hole
(+) the gap opened
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pitching a tent
deep in the woods
I was kissed by a witch
but I’ll never say where
except that never again
has a hair
ever grown down there
not a single inch
and but for
the occasional itch
I really couldn’t care
LikeLike
David:
am extremely ill—in and out of the hospital.
my brain is in a fog.
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Michael,
I shall pray for you
to the Lord God Almighty
who is faithful and true
for his wonder working power
wishing there was more I could do
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Thanks
I drift about.
I try to write but I am too weak.
Will continue—regardless of quality.
LikeLike
Focus on getting back
to your healthiest best
as there can only ever be
one Multiple Michael 😎👆
LikeLike
and second-guessing
who collected the circus tents
with countless lovers attached
their ass cheeks hanging out
in magazines from Paris
open-ended women
white Anglo
and ready
LikeLike
I must confess
being young and impetuous
that I prematurely arrived
full force
into that witch’s mouth
after noticing her
struggling for breath
I kindly enquired
as to her state of health
whilst administering
a helpful pat on the back
in a manner most chivalrous
and asking whether
she was grateful or resentful
but being a polite witch
she declined to talk
with her mouth full
it would’ve been wiser had I left
as soon after
she subjected my buttocks
to a severe spanking
with her switch
I’m now forever regretful
of being kissed
deep in the woods
by a witch
LikeLike
I tried to remove my shirt at the ghost bar
wanted to say that I had danced topless
but my shirt wouldn’t come off
it was somewhere complicated
———0———
the boss nurse warned me
any resistance and she would go abrasive
SANDPAPER ELBOWS/KNUCKLES
LikeLike
Nurse Ratched
didn’t know the difference
in effectiveness
between an SSRI antidepressant
and a placebo
turns out it averages
around fifteen percent
when I pointed this fact out
she asked if I’d prefer
my midnight Pfizer special
oral, intravenous, or anal?
“Popped, whacked, or plugged?
Tonight it’s your choice, sweetheart.”
on Nurse Ratchet’s insistence
I then blew over her cuckoo nest
as she nursed a signed photograph
of Jack Nicholson
sitting on his disheveled face
without her uniform on
LikeLike
———–I wanted to take my shirt off
———–and dance topless
———–but it was sewn on
raw psychology
outlined on the
fancy pillow
———–her quivering Honeymoon lips
LikeLike
Jeff Bezos didn’t give me choice
as he had me reinterred by force
into an Amazon delivery box
saying I should be grateful since
his boxes were finer than FedEx
having a big smiley face
and being fully recyclable
I told Jeff Bezos that
I never would’ve guessed
I thought it was a big vagina
on the outside of an Amazon box
Jeff Bezos then confided
it’s actually meant to be a penis!
the next thing I knew
we were floating around in space
Jeff Bezos didn’t give me choice
as he delivered me
to the star system of his birth
Alpha Centauri
and the planet Proxima Centauri D
to be precise
in the Constellation Centaurus
at least he sent me first class
much better … and further
than any crumpled old FedEx box
LikeLike
self-clinging
a slice of life
with no
where
to go
LikeLike
too serious for any
but the poet
different from before
carrion
Yes, carry on
riddle away
Goblin come at night
the thrust of the sting
the final pinch
LikeLike
that sometimes elusive
lust for life
is a force you can summon
as a weapon of choice
for even a rolling stone
to make a stand upon
the rock of salvation
to put up a fight
epic and heroic
to forever remain
in the ever loving light
of that kingdom to come
LikeLike
outside Eden
the ruins of Michael
words of waywardness
litter the grounds
(my departure has been postponed)
cheerleaders from the Ghost House
have been asked to move on
LikeLike
a new corpse has sprung up
where once there was
a damaged man
(+) GOD HAS ASKED ME TO KEEP MY MOUTH CLOSED (+)
swallowing my thoughts
the fight on pause
I in my corner
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how can I keep my mouth shut ?
where must the river of words go ?
LikeLike
in the dark
we the people creep
around a mighty maze
the Grand Library herself
I go there to display my charms
words lack color and thus I am employed
LikeLike
you can school
some of the people
all of the time . . . but
the sea people are coming
to burn your library down
led by grievance
rather than fact
and all of your people
will say it’s a crime
without conviction
or elocution
with words unspoken
you can not emancipate
all of the people all of the time
when they haven’t got a dime
not without causing a revolution
that’s just how they operate
a Placebo Town maze
beyond all reason or rhyme
as the head librarian
a true patriot
is lost in a wonderland daze
down in the basement
amongst the poor
and the desperate
of a capitalist state
with a ‘Big Emily’® strap on
and a buttocks freshly grazed
so many to choose from
even the head librarian
can not tool all of them
all of the time
even with the poetic help
of Emily Dickinson
leading them on
with her reading of ‘Hope’
whilst wearing a baseball cap
saying . . .
“Make Placebo Town Great Again”
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the sand was thirsty and Emily was afraid
Placebo Town was not real
a poetic Canaan
with no Moses
bibles with color images of Jesus
Emily late at night rubbing his outlines
LikeLike
the reality
of that city of orgies
lost in the spinsterhood
of Emily Dickerson
is there
for those who dare
to be found
like Jeffrey Dahmer
stalking the streets
of your neighborhood
as Walt Whitman testified
Placebo Town
can only be verified
by lovers of poetry
with offerings continually
even not so little Lolita
with her Big Emily® strap-on
from the land of Canaan
could ever hope to repay me
but so far
her amateur attempts
have been
mildly satisfactory
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with a million middle names of anguish
I employ my coloring skills of misery
each dab of color draws one closer
to the ultimate moment of fear
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