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 
soil bacteria sounding like Pink Floyd
the Milky Way smiling at night
everything supernatural
worthy of note
ambiguous words hiding under the bed
nervous from the active sex overhead
clergymen on the telephone
asking, “did it go in ?”
complex interconnections
physical entities easily removed
atheists trying to mend broken rainbows
LikeLiked by 1 person
The Virus
more sentient
than most suspect
It intercepts
your private thoughts
It knows what
you’re going to do next
The Virus is a vulture
feeding upon a viral culture
caught in the midst
of mass consumption fever
Humanity is the feast
The Virus is a psychopath
Like an eager soldier priest
it await your last confession
This game of survival of the fittest
has only one final destination
Beware the wrath
of the Virus
It is a ferocious beast
The Virus
has no conscience
The Virus
knows no shame
About your condition
and your pain
the Virus couldn’t care less
The curse of the Virus
is a blessing to some
for things will never
ever be the same
LikeLike
I wanted to warn others about the tormenting charms
the gigantic combat with God
creatures of fire
wrapped in skin
living in our homes
taking over our sports
my ears trained for the horn
painful independence soon to be
LikeLiked by 1 person
men started trading away their divinity
fresh lungs and an extra healthy heart
men with peckers way too long
basketball size testicles
jism by the pint
———-
———-
testimonies
to overtake, to correct
voices to punish the lazy poet
measured steps toward torment
measured steps away from torment
LikeLiked by 1 person
a blasting harmonica riff
all eyes pointed to the sky
was the Man announcing himself
the return of our true beloved
a persona of glory
somehow
leavened by a scoop
of yesterday and today
LikeLiked by 1 person
Three angels
setting a table for me tonight
They know my face
They set a place for me tonight
Well I can’t disappoint them
So I guess I’ll join them
They’ve been waiting on me forever
I’ve been down on earth
and in this town
Man there’s got to be something better
New suit, New tie
Real nice service for me when I die
New suit, cufflinks, and a new tie
Real nice service for me when I die
That’s the thing about living
When you get there
You’re seldom forgiven
And all your best friends
Are people you just met
You can take ’em or leave ’em
They’re sitting in this barroom
I guess that beats the hell
Out of loneliness – sweet loneliness
~ Headstones
LikeLike
(@) antics involving the hobo
Bob Dylan
the righteous raft
on a sea of greed and corruption
the bell tolls and the undertaker toils
so many have fallen no soil left to rent
the eyes are gone the lips are gone
the good book continues to speak
all ears tuned into the message
ancient enslaved tribes
waiting in line
LikeLiked by 1 person
Three angels
up above the street
Each one playing a horn
Dressed in green robes
with wings that stick out
They’ve been there
since Christmas morn
The wildest cat
from Montana passes by in a flash
Then a lady in a bright orange dress
One you-Haul trailer,
a truck with no wheels
The Tenth Avenue bus going west
The dogs and pigeons
fly up and they flutter around
A man with a badge skips by
Three fellas crawlin’
on their way back to work
Nobody stops to ask why
The bakery truck
stops outside of that fence
Where the angels stand high
on their poles
The driver peeks out,
trying to find one face
In this concrete world full of souls
The angels play
on their horns all day
The whole earth in progression
seems to pass by
But does anyone hear
the music they play?
Does anyone even try?
~ Bob Dylan
LikeLike
the inevitability of failure
and yet, Baby Bird
the necessity to struggle
how long will the pills work ?
trips to Switzerland for new colors
a sharp knife to the throat
I can see myself
the brink of death
difficult to decipher
LikeLiked by 1 person
Switzerland
of neutral colours
Black and beige
The white flag
that forever surrenders
to a world of rage
and low blows
Sanctuary is rarely
found in rainbows
pretty pictures
or desperate lovers
The connection of spirit
rises above all others
LikeLike
the pills
just alternative attitudes
sometimes I kiss them like a mother to her child
other times they collar me into an ultimate despair
gaze upon death and laugh, what a silly ass thought
(@) loving life too much—beyond selfish in every way
LikeLiked by 1 person
(@) do people really misplace their legs ?
the fancy new shoes are in sight
where the hell, my left my right
the scale of life
birth and death
I am departed
and still alive
disinterestedness
what the blue-blazes is that
LikeLiked by 1 person
after the tan capsules for 3 hours and 45 minutes
the need to domineer fades away
to put things in their proper
to be served like a master
3 hours 45 minutes
the children play
Mrs. goes about
the dog sleeps
LikeLiked by 1 person
The half-life
of spinal glitter
The ritual
The trigger
The Sacrament
raindow sweet
yet toxic bitter
Empires rise and fall
The Host
of contra-substance
sees it all
through visions
that linger
in flowing dimensions
The promise
of nothing
but a parting kiss
as the past
and the future
cease to exist
LikeLike
caught up in a constant state of BECOMING
others adapt and assume a proper role
yes, individuals with approximations
enormous room for multiple faces
the unity of family with a king
between yes and no
the urge to go
LikeLiked by 1 person
funny that————–caught between yes and no
Jesus said, “Michael, all that crap and you’re caught
between Yes and No”
somewhere alone
counting my
inhales
LikeLiked by 1 person
no easy task
continuing preoccupations
variations and multiple meanings
nostalgic reminiscences of religious sex
the absurd lifestyle of Aleister Crowley 666
flying carpets and dropping dung on Mt. Everest
hell on earth and no where else
supplement and contradict
show no emotion
books burning
LikeLiked by 1 person
those few questions that are absolutely unavoidable
to give oneself completely without punishment
to detach enough to answer the door
agents from who knows what
they ask about your lifestyle
your confines of cinema
they want to measure
your dong soft
underneath a sheet, a gloved hand holds your penis
a male stranger with a tape measure
and a blessing of gentleness
an odd mix of sensations
(the theatre of reality)
what if the agent was wearing a loin cloth
a dagger instead of a measuring tape
a loose tongue on the evening news
“Sophia Loren has a bigger dong”
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Freedom is the possibility of being
and not the obligation to be.”
~ René Magritte
Well, my telephone rang
it would not stop.
It’s President Kennedy
callin’ me up.
He said,
“My friend, Bob, what do we need
to make the country grow?”
I said, “My friend, John,
Brigitte Bardot,
Anita Ekberg,
Sophia Loren.
(Put ’em all in the same room
with Ernest Borgnine!)
The country will grow.”
~ Bob Dylan
LikeLike
the agents were from NASA
little known fact
only eunuchs
journey up
above
someone somewhere
wanted to place me in a shoe box
and send me beyond any chance of return
(@) they promised to put my face on a billion tee shirts
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Being like everybody
is the same as being nobody.”
~ ROD SERLING
“In short, all good things
are wild and free.”
~ Henry David Thoreau
LikeLike
“have a look at her caboose”
special mirrors reflected her backside
as time marched on, it became proportionally larger
her muscles of burlesque were outside any biblical source material
gentlemen who survived said that they had gave it their all
(@) overhead, astronauts reflect on “having gave it their all”
LikeLiked by 1 person
“On the whole, human beings want
to be good, but not too good, and
not quite all the time.”
~George Orwell
LikeLike
the alcohol fiends
have prepared themselves
verbal wit and slapstick prose
piss pants over vomit coated shoes
“ladies and gentlemen, a poet in a wheelchair”
over the years they have removed his claws and teeth
the lame poet must struggle with Tarzan
who has a shiny store bought knife
Tarzan is nearly nude
the crowd goes
WILD
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Each thing hides another, we always
want to see what is hidden by what we
see. This interest can take the form of
a rather intense feeling, a sort of fight
between the hidden visible and
the apparent visible.”
~ René Magritte
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.”
~Wislawa Szymborska
LikeLike
straight boys lived in caves and behaved as true cavemen
they employed themselves as slaves to observing sports
gay boys religiously watched Tarzan on the television
praying something terrible would happen to Jane
that there would be an opening in the treehouse
a chance to snuggle with the ape man
to romantically surrender
LikeLiked by 1 person
CELTS AND SAXONS
We hate the Saxon and the Dane,
We hate the Norman men-
We cursed their greed for blood and gain,
We curse them now again.
Yet start not, Irish-born man!
If you’re to Ireland true,
We heed not blood, nor creed, nor clan
We have no curse for you.
We have no curse for you or yours,
But Friendship’s ready grasp,
And Faith to stand by you and yours
Unto our latest gasp-
To stand by you against all foes,
Howe’er, or whence they come,
With traitor arts, or bribes, or blows,
From England, France, or Rome.
What matter that at different shrines
We pray unto one God?
What matter that at different times
Your fathers won this sod?
In fortune and in name we’re bound
By stronger links than steel;
And neither can be safe nor sound
But in the other’s weal.
As Nubian rocks, and Ethiop sand
Long drifting down the Nile,
Built up old Egypt’s fertile land
For many a hundred mile,
So Pagan clans to Ireland came,
And clans of Christendom,
Yet joined their wisdom and their fame
To build a nation from.
Here came the brown Phoenician,
The man of trade and toil-
Here came the proud Milesian,
A hungering for spoil;
And the Firbolg and the Cymry,
And the hard, enduring Dane,
And the iron Lords of Normandy,
With the Saxons in their train.
And oh! it were a gallant deed
To show before mankind,
How every race and every creed
Might be by love combined-
Might be combined, yet not forget
The fountains whence they rose,
As, filled by many a rivulet,
The stately Shannon flows.
Nor would we wreak our ancient feud
On Belgian or on Dane,
Nor visit in a hostile mood
The hearths of Gaul or Spain;
But long as on our country lies
The Anglo-Norman yoke,
Their tyranny we’ll stigmatize,
And God’s revenge invoke.
We do not hate, we never cursed,
Nor spoke a foeman’s word
Against a man in Ireland nursed,
Howe’er we thought he erred;
So start not, Irish-born man,
If you’re to Ireland true,
We heed not race, nor creed, nor clan,
We’ve hearts and hands for you.
~Thomas Davis
LikeLike
jokes were made about knuckle sandwiches
(highfalutin)
Placebo Town was like the hub of a wheel
its poets like spokes converging from different directions
highfalutin educated people holding fast to old-style black arts
dilly-dallying around fires at night, high-stepping butt cheeks
latent sexual instincts close to the surface
tough acts performed on unresponsive spouses
fearful that minutes would turn into hours
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well-hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
~ Bob Dylan
LikeLike
ticking time-bombs
people who trust their flesh and blood
and neglect their intellect
well, do they ever escape the jungle ?
weird, wordless sounds
abstract poetry
stuff God wanted to drown in the Flood
people naked and stuck together
enemies copulating
rattling their seed sacks
LikeLiked by 1 person
“If we cannot learn to actually enjoy
our differences on this planet, then
we do not deserve to go into space
and meet the diversity that is almost
certain out there.”
~ Gene Roddenberry
“We are products of our past but
we don’t have to be prisoners of it.”
~ Rick Warren
“We are all different. There is no
such thing as a standard or
run-of-the-mill human being, but
we share the same human spirit.”
~ Stephen Hawking
“Once we believe in ourselves, we can
risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous
delight, or any experience that reveals
the human spirit.”
~ E. E. Cummings
“There are two basic motivating forces:
fear and love. When we are afraid, we
pull back from life. When we are in love,
we open to all that life has to offer with
passion, excitement, and acceptance.”
~John Lennon
LikeLike
less receptive to new ideas
the windows painted black
the people in the bush
have run out of rocks to throw
they just stand there
with their eyes wide open
possibly on guard to snatch children
or an escaped pet
perhaps, wanting to be put in text
—————-
the people in the bush
are they just sexual obligations ?
the 800 year old man
not keeping up his end of the bargain
the longed-for and yet unlikely
the satisfied wife
LikeLiked by 1 person
no one remembers
when you removed her heart
or filled her full of concrete
but the local village paper
has photos of you
tossing her off
the bridge
—————the headline
“THE FATIGUE OF LOVE”
between her legs
a giant wad of words
LikeLiked by 1 person
at any moment the phone will ring
she will have shown up
not able to make it home
“white man come get wife”
countless times in the back of the truck
hard drudgery on display
LikeLiked by 1 person
The Robert Frost Society of Greater Placebo Town
sent me a two word reply to my submission
——“PEDESTRIAN RUBBISH”——
the swindle of modern life
the failure of education
trite expressions
fruit from trees
rather distant
from God
LikeLiked by 1 person
Albino Velvet
lived and died
the road less trampled
Robert Frost’s
monochromantic love child
from the mild side of wild
Always knocking down
his neighbour’s fences
He even made a movie
with his suicide friends
from Banana Republic
and the Underground
fucking that road to death
I was sitting in the audience
with Sugar Plum Fairy
(she thought it pure brilliance)
No one made a sound
I remember being disappointed
I thought Frankenstein
was meant to be scary
and when will this crap
ever end?
Sometimes
when all hope is gone
and you’re deeply troubled
a tin of Campbell’s soup
can be your only friend
on a road less travelled
LikeLike
tourists purchase calendars with images of physical lovemaking
some people experience self-possession through sex
others mutual destruction
the loss of self visible
homeless people
cemetery folk
standing
LikeLiked by 1 person
tourists purchase calendars with images of physical lovemaking
tourists purchase calendars with images of physical lovemaking
tourists purchase calendars with images of physical lovemaking
some people experience self-possession through sex
others mutual destruction
the loss of self visible
homeless people
cemetery folk
standing
LikeLiked by 1 person
WORDPRESS SEEMS UNHAPPY THIS MORNING
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Take thee to a Nunnery!
… On the way
don’t knock down
the neighbour’s fence
and dare not mention
that Scottish play, Macbeth.
Oops! … I did it again.”
~ Britney Shakespears
LikeLike
divisions
self-conscious humans nervous
flat people often appear cheeky
Aldous Huxley was not himself
he had exhausted the mouth
of his mind
the stockpile of words
gone
he remained silent
while those around him
acted as amusement parks
——————-
——————-
quarrelling with being dream-drugged
Aldous remained a gnarled, twisted stump
LikeLiked by 1 person
“It’s not what you look at that matters,
it’s what you see.”
~ Henry David Thoreau
“The door charge at Club Perception
is known to be particularly high. But
no use complaining to management.
They’ll tell you to go kiss the sky.”
~ Jimi Spandex
LikeLike
———PLACEBO TOWN——
alcohol intoxication and then sex
recreational drug use and then sex
gouged in the face with a broken beer bottle
sex was delayed and a visit to an ER was a priority
at the hospital people were making loud goat sounds
bowls of applesauce were freely given out to patients
a nurse looked at everyone’s teeth and randomly cringed
as she walked across the room her feet made shuffling sounds
reality became a full-length surreal sketch, an epic parody of sorts
(@) a hussy or two, women with buttermilk breasts, thrill-seekers
construction workers, boy scouts, eunuchs, acrobats, banjo players
gun spinners, semi-criminal teens, everyone seated in a single line
LikeLiked by 1 person
that wife of Jim Morrison
the one who stood on one leg
like those crazy pink birds
well, she done passed on
brother, she’s dead
her operatic voice
during sodomy
a thing of the
past
no more popsicle up the yahoo
no more planting the flag on the moon
(@) Jim Morrison dressed as a Salvation Army recruit
banging a drum, rattling a tambourine
clinging to the cross like Jesus Christ
LikeLiked by 1 person
the first rule of Jim Morrison
offset tastelessness with doses of taste
contradictory experiences no matter how peculiar
the flash of a dong could dramatize any tune
later, others would seek to emulate him
however, it has to be elephantine
the size of a school bus
LikeLiked by 1 person
it was the kind of party
where a mustache
complete with a lip
was left
on the kitchen sink
it arrived in a swallowtail coat
and fancy riding boots
proud of its circus employment
endless cups of coffee
loaded with pure pink meth
drug-eager to melt together
multiple faces into one
(@) coffee made with the water from a rock in Horeb
virgin water from God, not a phallic source
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wanna be straight,
I wanna be straight
I’m sick and tired of taking drugs
and staying up late
I wanna confirm, I wanna conform
I wanna be safe and I wanna be snug
and I wanna be warm
I want to be straight,
I want to be straight
I wanna create a place of my own
in the welfare state
Brr, gonna be good, brr, gonna be kind
It might be a wrench but think
of the stench I’m leaving behind
I wanna be straight,
I wanna be straight
Come out of the cold and do
what I’m told and don’t deviate
I wanna give, I wanna give,
I wanna give my consent
I’m learning to hate all the things
That were great when I used to be bent!
Could be that straightness
Dum dum dilley
Might lead to greatness
Dur yuh dum der
Owing to lateness
My chance has only just arrived, ha
Ow! Straight, straight, straight, straight
Straight, straight, straight, straight
Straight, straight, straight, straight, straight
I wanna be straight,
I wanna be straight
I’m sick and tired of taking drugs
and staying up late
I know that you’re right,
I know I was wrong
So thanks very much,
please keep in touch,
I’ll be running along
~ Ian Dury and the Blockheads
LikeLike
they tried to lock the poet
in a museum of decorated cakes
where no one would ask serious questions
or embarrassing ones
the context of life
has no place in poetry
(harmony is cancer in slow motion)
the tall ladders are constructed from struggle
library workers reside on the lower rungs
they curse photographs
and bless words
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Mankind is composed of two sorts
of men, those who love and create,
and those who hate and destroy”
~Jose Marti
“No pessimist ever discovered the
secret of the stars, or sailed to an
uncharted land, or opened a new
doorway for the human spirit.”
~ Helen Keller
“The ideals which have lighted
my way, and time after time have
given me new courage to face life
cheerfully, have been kindness,
beauty and truth.”
-~Albert Einstein
LikeLike
home-shaved buttocks
face and body powder
eye makeup
lipstick
neither men
nor women could look away
it wasn’t Minstrelsy
but it was in that neck of the woods
neck of the woods……….yes, neck of the woods
the entire population behaved half naked
running about out of control
people asked questions
with no explanations
the desire to suddenly know
a piece of information no matter what
poets were often asked if they were constitutionally virginal
LikeLiked by 1 person
up above
offers of marriage
by just wiggling or flexing
an artificially enhanced body part
angels who touched down in Placebo Town
complete with handcuffs and leg shackles
were thrilled and gratified by the size
of human females regardless
LikeLiked by 1 person
the citizens of Placebo Town
are often thought of as “primitive people”
carefree and libidinous
———-however,
just a few feet back in the bushes
they are amoral……hardcore amoral
murder without storm or stress
old errors line the DNA
incest is immediate
appointed holes
unknown
cannibalism
the clear-eyed
never hungry
LikeLiked by 1 person
True love is gone,
I’s been played for a fool
True love is gone,
I’s been played for a fool
I’m turnin’ the tables on you
You’ve been playin’ dirty pool
You said you’d call the shots darlin’
All your friends thought that was cool
You said you’d call the shots darlin’
All your friends thought that was cool
Yeah, but when you shot
at the eight ball baby
I knew you were playin’ dirty pool
They say that life,
life is a game of give an’ take
They say that life,
life is a game of give an’ take
I’m tellin’ you one thing right now
little baby
I won’t be the one to pay for your
mistakes, oh, no baby
~ Stevie Ray Vaughan
LikeLike
out there——the givers and the receivers
so many things are not what they seem
much more deep-rooted and intuitive
more hungry gut than Hollywood
the mechanisms of the mind
fancy cogs and wheels
thrown together
haphazardly
ever-changing configurations
between the here and the there
religion carrying some
obstructing others
curious characters
panoramic love
LikeLiked by 1 person
Curious
And curiouser
This rabbit hole universe
Is a swirling votex
All wrapped up
In an enigma sandwich
Existence
Resistance
Motivations of Martyrs
The patience of Saints
Light
In the darkness
Rattle
Roll
And shake
Spectators
And fellow travellers
Ambitions and agendas
Twisting the snake
That Kingdom within
Losing it all to win
Whatever it takes
LikeLike
Curious
And curiouser
This rabbit hole universe
Is a swirling votex
All wrapped up
In an enigma sandwich
Existence
Resistance
Motivations of Martyrs
The patience of Saints
Light
In the darkness
Rattle
Roll
And shake
Spectators
And fellow travellers
Ambitions and agendas
Twisting the snake
That Kingdom within
Losing it all to win
Whatever it takes
LikeLike
a touch of reality:
question of the day, “what ate the small lizard that I was trying
to nurture back to health ?”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mammalian – Reptilian Love
is a Cretaceous thing 💚
The reality is
Extinction is never ending ♾️
LikeLike
people leaving other people behind
a constant gamble
with encounter, occasion, desire
someone backs out the door
someone yields
sentiment of the heart
in a box under the bed
entangling miseries
beauties from the Fall
—-(the sound of drums)—-
freedom from servitude
free of the yoke
LikeLiked by 1 person
she said that she wanted a man
who could provoke her thoughts
who could arouse her emotions
who would treat her animal appetites
with the force and skill of a lion tamer
open-minded and attentive
to what curiosities he could reach
his finger, his tongue, God-knows-what
LikeLiked by 1 person
Adam’s emissions
were crystal clear
Light shone through it
Light reflected off it
Loving illuminations
Far and near
Till the big fall
When things got a bit cloudy
Even Eve
Who once shone like the Sun
Now appeared a bit shady
LikeLike
I remember the day that Allen Ginsberg stopped by the house
wasn’t expecting an old bag of bones and three vans of personal belongings
“why all the crap ?” perhaps endless chains of Ginsberg or Bob Dylan stuffed
was Dylan prepared like one of those African animals ready to hang on the wall ?
Placebo Town was not hostile to white bourgeois deviations, Ginsberg was welcome
an old wind bag with an entourage of bad hair youth complete with dark spectacles
chauffeured around in a Mafia black Mercedes Benz with his dong in his hand
like-minded sodomites waved as he passed by, the King of Mock
inorganic rigidity and organic wholeness, unhappy modern man
Allen had long lost those famous riding-muscles, nut sac dry
LikeLiked by 1 person
the coaxing of art out of everything
myth seeds ready to be planted
all things begging go, go, go
an electrified hand jacking
semen coated clouds
Jackson Pollock
style
LikeLiked by 1 person
What goes up
must come down
Thermodynamics
and desperado romance
Things lost in the chaos
Ships run aground
Michaelangelo in the trance
of a Sistine thrill
Banksy doing graffiti
on the subway walls
of Placebo Town
Where the citizens all
took the blue pill
To get the red pill
means a trip to Mexico
with a prescription
signed by Doctor Warhol
on the back
of a Campbell’s soup can
LikeLike
I took the pill to get the pill
the pain went away
and then I couldn’t poop
I tried sodomy
but I didn’t like
the gentlemen
and then
to have their things pushed
into my privates
it just seemed obscene
to soil another man
no amount of washing
could do away with the deadliness
yes, the deadliness was there
the smell of white damaged
LikeLiked by 1 person
trains go through Placebo Town all night
often over 100mph
they never stop
or slow down
demons
me thinks
or worse possibly
the glowing rocks
the prisoners dig 24/7
lyrical backwater of folklore
all ears are guilty I tell you brother
the scars of the landscape underfoot
working wounds gurgle late at night
gurgles and the roaring trains
a queer mixture me thinks
LikeLiked by 1 person
I took the pill to get the pill
removed from the floor
and placed outside
in the fresh air
I would revive in due time
tourists would walk by and take my photo
sometimes parents would tell their children
that I was the oldest living thing on earth
the first Michael to arrive
(@) on Easter I take my shirt off at the Holy Shrine of Placebo Town
and the congregation have a religious moment
LikeLiked by 1 person
I took the pill to get the pill
physical and psychic preparedness
for a mountain ready to explode
they called it “early sex”
a serious conflict
in a dog shit
civilization
(@) climb the highest tree
no protection from the penetration
LikeLiked by 1 person
I took the pill to get the pill
children loaded on the bus
of emotional bisexuality
forced to play sports
to major in maintaining a nest
tourists in procreation no matter
even gays wanting to be complete
the isolation of Placebo Town
is it the world experiment ?
(@) the pill did nothing to ease the biological dependency
LikeLiked by 1 person
The blue pill
is Placebo Town’s
biggest export
The whole economy
depends upon it
It’s the confessional
of the sporting professional
saying …
“Give it a try.
You won’t regret it!”
The communal wafer
for kiddie fiddlers
and bankers
It’s the sacrament
of entitlement
The Big Easy
of the hard done by
An easy to swallow tablet
delivering a sparkling
clean conscience
for miscreant losers
and deviant abusers
The sedative
of parental choice
for rebellious teenagers
The laxative
ideal for use
by veracious
constipated consumers
Whatever your situation
the blue pill will help you
forget all about it
Where would this
bat shit crazy world
be without it?
LikeLike
THERE WAS A PUB DOWNSTAIRS
a variety of pills available
I took a pill to get a pill
it had a fictitious name
and considered bad luck
many a soul
suffered the privation of sex
the distorted lives of adults
conventional expectations
perhaps unthinkable
toy guns and toy love
I took the pill to get the pill
to open myself up to rush hour traffic
to transport the misery of every day
the lack of oxygen and FM stations
the overripe imagination
no sense of how average folk behaved
speech and gesture censored
or residing in the barn
Noah was into authenticating
but he is long gone
LikeLiked by 1 person
“The effect of life in society is to complicate and confuse our existence, making us forget who we really are by causing us to become obsessed with
what we are not.”
~ Zhuangzi
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life
and you will call it fate.”
~ Carl Jung
LikeLike
I took a pill to get a pill
I’ve taken to hiding outside
people pay me no mind
people busy baking birthday cakes
men have enlarged breasts from all the soy
damn proud of their knockers
I’ve never used the word “tits”
but if I did
I could walk up to a chest heavy gent
and say “hell man, you’ve got the tits”
back in the cowboy times
a man packing big hooters
would have been in demand
the highlight of the bunkhouse
sometimes I take two pills to get two pills
everything becomes transparent
and the soundtrack of reality
Pink Floyd in a Miles Davis jumpsuit
fingers reach down from the sky
and squeeze idlers
lazy men in trousers
intermediaries
sky people
fenced in with Christian taboos
love to spy on the daughters below
a reality complete with sentinels and alarms
I took two pills to get two pills
I’ve taken to hiding outside
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was paid in ten dollar bills
To swallow a whole lotta
little blue pills
Led Zeppelin going down
in black sabbath flames
The artwork on the subway walls
in Placebo Town looks different
but the song remains the same
Tribal taboos in religious disguise
where the private school motto
is ‘Dare To Be Wise’
But I’ve stared into their lidless eyes
It is not the fool
that they hate and despise
Every used car salesman
is offering a stairway to heaven
You too can join Kurt Cobain
and kiss the dreamtime skies
The tribe must always
stay fertile and strong
For the weak and the deviant
a shotgun is waiting
with your name on it
Just take another little blue pill
… This won’t take long
LikeLike
Don’t want to discuss it
I think it’s time for a change
You may get disgusted
Start thinkin’ that I’m strange
In that case I’ll go underground
Get some heavy rest
Never have to worry
About what is worst
and what is best (get it)
Oh oh Domino (all right)
Roll me over Romeo
There you go
Lord have mercy
~ Van Morrison
LikeLike
just this morning
I took a pill to get a pill
now that I’ve taken to sleeping on the sidewalk
I can smell the rutting women who walk by
the smell of automobile exhaust
the various grades of petro
the brand names
(@) if I had a son I might call him, “Texaco”
LikeLiked by 1 person
I once took
a jagged little red pill
to have and to hold
She was more pink than red
the truth be told
For after tasting her lips
I soon found
I was stuck in the Matrix
She demanded I get her
the crown of Placebo Town
whilst she just hung around
in her burgundy ballroom gown
Always lying down
she would descend
into a vegetative state
bent over my couch
completely comatose
With delusions of grandeur
causing total hearing loss
I offered to remove
my face mask
so she could lip read
But she never said a word
except, “Let’s breed.”
A ploughed field
in desperate need
of water and seed
LikeLike
I took a pill to get a pill
the pill puts me in a good place
small blue birds complete with smiles
strangers ask me what happened to my legs
and I find it funny to point in all four directions
they’re over there or maybe somewhere else
I get more pocket money if I crawl about
the bastards delight in the fact
that I’m slow to escape
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wibble when I piddle
Cos my middle is a riddle
I’m spasticus, I’m spasticus
I’m spasticus autisticus
I dribble when I nibble
And I quibble when I scribble
Hello to you out there
in Normal Land
You may not comprehend my tale
or understand
As I crawl past your window
give me lucky looks
You can read my body
but you’ll never read my books
I’m spasticus, I’m spasticus
I’m spasticus autisticus
I’m knobbled on the cobbles
Cos I hobble when I wobble
Swim!
So place your hard-earned peanuts
in my tin
And thank the Creator you’re not
in the state I’m in
So long have I been languished
on the shelf
I must give all proceedings to myself
I’m spasticus, I’m spasticus
I’m spasticus autisticus
54 appliances in leather and elastic
100,000 thank yous from 27 spastics
Spasticus, spasticus
Spasticus autisticus
Widdling, griddling, skittling, diddling
Fiddling, diddling, widdling, diddling spasticus
I’m spasticus, spasticus
Spasticus autisticus
~ Ian Dury and the Blockheads
LikeLike
I got called into the office
and asked why I put “astronaut”
as my current vocation
the lady said that the answer
was silly
if I wanted to continue
getting the pill to get the pill
I couldn’t be silly
she asked me,
“are you silly ?”
I said, “no”
my soul was drooling
for the pill to get the pill
silently I was thinking
in the world today
silly is the new serious
LikeLiked by 1 person
the saliva of desire
in what guise would the pill come ?
living in the company of other humans
the “beggar’s whine” through the night
“PLEASE LORD, PLEASE”
the major organs swollen with rottenness
begging to be squeezed or replaced
begging the headmistress for a pinch
counting the pain pills
a little transit
perhaps
LikeLiked by 1 person
* * * * * * * * * * * * * Michael
Apologies for my insensitivities
In the deserts of Sudan
And the gardens of Japan
From Milan to Yucatan
Every woman, every man
Hit me with your rhythm stick.
Hit me! Hit me!
Je t’adore, ich liebe dich,
Hit me! hit me! hit me!
Hit me with your rhythm stick.
Hit me slowly, hit me quick.
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
In the wilds of Borneo
And the vineyards of Bordeaux
Eskimo, Arapaho
Move their body to and fro.
Hit me with your rhythm stick.
Hit me! Hit me!
Das ist gut! C’est fantastique!
Hit me! hit me! hit me!
Hit me with your rhythm stick.
It’s nice to be a lunatic.
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
In the dock of Tiger Bay
On the road to Mandalay
From Bombay to Santa Fe
Over hills and far away
Hit me with your rhythm stick.
Hit me! Hit me!
C’est si bon, mm? Ist es nicht?
Hit me! hit me! hit me!
Hit me with your rhythm stick.
Two fat persons, click, click, click.
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
~ Ian Dury and the Blockheads
LikeLike