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 
———0———
———0———
TO MAINTAIN THE SPARK OF LIFE
———0———
———0———
a truckload of vice
a banana boat too
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prayers for protection
freedom from the destructive influence
of people who have no love to give
insufficiencies and conflicts
not just an observer
a prime target
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spiritual fibers
Michael weaves
(+) dirt and worse
countless angels busy cleaning
Heaven’s Aquarium must be spotless
I AM MORE THAN MYSELF
I AM MORE THAN MYSELF
I AM MORE THAN MYSELF
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———0———the conversation was about Baudelaire———0———
I drifted off
Popeye cartoons
saltshaker lithium
darkened romance
mechanical sex
2 minutes
numbing
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in a game of craps
at the Placebo Town casino
I had a one in thirty six
chance of rolling a seven
the second time around
surrounded by a pack
of sybaritic love rats
backing me to win
a situation more dangerous
than a mother’s club meeting
at pOETRY wORKSHOP
I didn’t know whether
I’d be allowed to walk out
and take my winnings
would I ever be seen again?
the dice come up a seven
and the pack of love rats
looking over my shoulder
started patting me on the back
and squealing with excitement
in the corner of my eye
I noticed the security guards
all moving towards the exit
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watched a Ridley Scott film, “Alien Covenant”
an expensive porn movie
the actors were young
and healthy, beautiful
clean and pink
a family member of the Alien franchise
where space creatures cause havoc
no one knows who or what
no one cares WHY ?
actors cast with
ballooning
genitals
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Little Know Alien Fact:
According to H. R. Giger’s original design,
the Alien was to have a lengthy barb tipped
penis tucked away behind it’s tusk bristling
groin mandibles. In the final scene of ‘Alien’
Ripley, whilst unconscious in her sleep pod,
was to be skewered by the Alien. A case of
alien genitalia rips Ripley apart, with an
explosion of highly acidic green jism to
finish her off, thus reducing her to a puddle
of bubbling gore. Hans told me that he was
particularly looking forward to the filming
of that scene. Sadly, Ridley Scott sensing
that an ‘Alien’ franchise worth millions 💰
was in the offing, had the ending rewritten.
To console poor Hans Giger, Ridley Scott
promised he’d have Sigourney Weaver
caressing her pussy as she gets into the
sleep pod 😺 I think Giger got ripped off.
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actors in a porno movie
following the zeitgeist’s directive
distinctive genitals, human values visible
(+) satisfy yourself with what is on the screen
no matter the sadness of today, tomorrow will be sorrier
———————————
———————————
pOETRY wORKSHOP:
daily orgasms
without
erasures
or
corrections
———–
———–
uncharted sex
engagements
with balls
and dongs
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would Heaven-bound humans eat fish ?
Heaven-bound people swallowing flesh ?
animal, fish, fowl, human ?
raw or cooked flesh ?
the taste of blood
———————————————-on page 47 they discuss females leaking blood
they gave Little Johnny a plug
being a child, Little Johnny
offered no resistance
——later in life——
“The Plug”
a bestselling book
with a shameful cover
Little Johnny red with blood
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it may be impossible to legitimize poetry
critics merely reinforce its infantile nature
———————at the library, where does one go to contemplate ?
I enjoy standing close to lesbian librarians
they smell like expensive dryer sheets
————————————
————————————
————————————
———————at some point
same sex loneliness
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“The library will endure; it is the universe.
As for us, everything has not been written;
we are not turning into phantoms. We walk
the corridors, searching the shelves and
rearranging them, looking for lines of
meaning amid leagues of cacophony and
incoherence, reading the history of the past
and our future, collecting our thoughts and
collecting the thoughts of others, and every
so often glimpsing mirrors, in which we may
recognize creatures of the information.”
“I have always imagined that paradise
will be a kind of library.”
~ Jorge Luis Borges
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where I wake up
outdoor wolves behave against their nature
representations, started in biological darkness
both animal and rendered human-like
a living photograph without shoes
a put-together lacking parts
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COSMIC SURGERY
deeply cosmetic shadow sleepers
walking a hall of mirrors
under the knife
of the soul surgeon
your choice of anesthetic
the result metamorphic
a slow death distraction
searching for a lost reflection
life reduced to facts and statistics
by comic book characters
Taylor Swift’s pelvic thrust
impaled upon a tight end penis
is now worth a billion dollars
loose change
for the reaper creepers
in that hall of mirrors
where faces and genitalia
are displayed and rearranged
by Placebo Town phobia
into caricatures of paranoia
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parents for instructional purposes
father with his chubby sausage
mother with her orifices
anonymous material
privately expelled
(+) father with his shovel, before anyone stirs
(+) I always pondered if they were given names
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spontaneous pleasure
small children with a jump rope
Salvador Dali without obligation
those who toil to survive
donate their wealth to others
a soup can or a stupid pop song
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———0———patterns of significance———0———
something in itself
nothingness by way of the particular
surrounded by darkness and emptiness
colored surfaces reeking of urine
was it a squat or an elbow lean
explicit pictorial language
uninhibited openness
a hairy waterfall
a lazy dong
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life reduced to space socks and Jagger lips
no room for sweet-fingered saxophones
how to acquire what you want
discover pleasure in sadness
(+) never shower nude
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cowboys strip down to their essentials
barometers of beauty
just turn off the lights
——
holding words tight
finding it difficult to recite
all those candles on the cake
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finding it difficult to recite
even more to relight
He had an erection
was he kissing the beautiful woman ?
or was he kissing her death mask ?
explicit sexuality
he had signed
his real name
Michael (s)
uninhibited openness
facing birthday candles
treacherous flames too close
a medieval boy tinged with pink
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Michael among men
absolute loyalty to sorrow
each brief sorrow followed
by another, more emptiness
——————————–YES, MORE EMPTINESS
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pOETRY wORKSHOP :
———0———
“Sin is more fruitful than innocence”
———0———
men who purchase Christmas cards
at the Dollar Store
often as not
willingly
endure
worse
pain
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I walk this empty street
on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
where Placebo Town sleeps
and I’m the only one
apart from the whores and pimps
at the Dollar Store
I shop alone, I shop alone
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weaning Father
Mom painted her genital area black
Father in transition, his veil descended once more
the edge lands of his sex life, edge lands he treasured
off limits, no longer a functioning outlet
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I am a river unto my people
some come just for a splash
some come and suck me dry
by taking all my cash
Christmas time is the worst
I think next year
I’ll flee to another country
just me and Lindy
perhaps Lolita if she promises
to behave herself in transit
and stop transmitting
her alpha charged sexuality
promiscuity isn’t a good look
in Mecca or Addis Ababa
unless you’re Omar Sharif
or Lawrence of Arabia
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my father
‘The Architect’
sleeps with the frozen fishes
where Carlo Gambino
can’t ever find him
alongside Walt Disney
and Barron Hilton
suitable accommodation
for an honorary member
of the Rat Pack family
engraved on his cryogenic chamber
the motto he lived by . . .
“Revenge Is To Outlive Your Enemies,
By One Means Or Another.”
my dilemma
do I honour his memory
by pulling the plug on him
so he’s terminally unfrozen?
by doing it before I die
would be my way
of saying that I did listen
to everything he tried to teach me
perhaps being defrosted prematurely
would finally get his attention?
I’d be doing Paris Hilton a favour
as she longs to be frozen
alongside her grandfather
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“might be redeemed by Christ”
John Lennon climbing up the outside
of the world’s tallest building
three good fingernails
two by the grace of Christ
one by the envy of Satan
———0———
the sin of Adam and Eve
brought more benefit than harm
Death with its employment situation
——–0———
those who deservedly suffer
suffer in consequence
rock and roll, fame
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ASKED TO DONATE TO A FEELING NOT WORTH HAVING
———0———
broken fingernails might interest adolescents
not likely to grab the attention of adults
——–#2 in the bathroom——–
you pass a complex cluster of feelings
monologues floating in urine
———0———
fullness with precision
rectal narrative
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John Lennon with broken fingernails climbing the side of a building
(+) legitimate subject matter for poetry ?
NEVER surrender to the subject matter
master it
———————————-the fallacy of imitative poetry
———————————-yes, imitation without expense
———————————-befogged by Frost, LUDICROUS
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Christmas time in Placebo Town
where they prefer cover versions
of Elvis Presley songs rather than
something dangerously original
as it suits the plastic sentiment
of their gifts made in China
wrapped up in the false pride
of authentic embarrassment
meanwhile at pOETRY wORKSHOP
you are given the choice
of two inspirational seasonal
subjects to write about
the Penis … or the Vagina
to attempt both simultaneously
is considered in bad taste
and can only get messy
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SMOKING SOME SLOW TRAIN PULLING INTO THE STATION
———0———
the Christmas Tree
we were lost before we were lost
gifts under the tree—gifts of grace
praying for redemption
not innocence
———0———
PRAYING FOR REDEMPTION, NOT INNOCENCE
———0———
no holiday for those who lack the need for repentance
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SNORTING SOME FAST PLANE COMING INTO LAND
——– 🛩️ ——–
overcharged sensory stimulation
Christmas decorations
screaming for attention
with a howl that can be heard
from Bethlehem to Hell’s Kitchen
Nazareth has always been a war zone
for a slaughtered innocence
once lost in a fishbowl
now found in an endless ocean
riding high the dream machine
of celestial angelic vision
FORGIVEN 🔄 FOR GIVING
the long road of forgiveness
David’s PATH of REDemption
a slow train ride gives time
for the distillation of wisdom
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with a sharp blade at his throat
Robert Frost, a simple choice:
PENIS or VAGINA
slick and chaotic
inspirational poetry
surrender to plumbing
in or out, it is all the same
tear off the wallpaper
dirty the sheets
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surrendering to sex instead of mastering it
unexplained feelings, Lennon with his nails
insignificantly ridiculous Robert Frost
———ART NOT LIFTED FROM LIFE———
buoys and beacons
gay crayons
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E.A. Poe on shoe size for sodomy
the larger model over otherwise
big gets the job done
less won’t stay in place
———0———
———0———
E.A. Poe and sodomy
the dead or soon-to-be dead
connoisseur of weepy eye farts
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———–HUMAN DEDICATION TO EVIL———–
television: the theatre of realism
cavemen love to illuminate outdoor life
somewhere in the madness, religious language
Adam and Eve walking down the path holding hands
———————-on Broadway, Adam and Eve had no competitors
———————-their weaknesses were on full display, genitals that could bark
———————-things gushed from Eve that Adam couldn’t pronounce
———————-longshoremen would faint at the color of her nudity
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(the search for truth, a self-evident good)
———–genuine poetry———–
one theatre
fits inside another
silly love without seatbelts
humans that appear agreeable
Frankenstein:
less than what made him
more than what made him
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“I turn to liquid and escape my skin”
———-how I know that I am high
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happiness starts drifting over in your direction
FEAR, you feel afraid
cheap underwear
crotch itch
a kid with misery tied to a string
a secret life complete with a kite
———0———
———0———
behind the church
chopped-off penis length
(+)
running up and down ladders
time-sequence masturbation
(+)
numbering the soul of a poet
“less oblique/more oblique”
diminishing returns
the poet victim
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Noah was the Ark
empty-full-empty
his boy saw him
there nude
NOAH WAS NOT A MAN
Noah was the Ark
empty-full-empty
his boy saw him
there nude
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it took weeks for Noah to relax
his mouth enough
to permit
the living world
to march inside him
(+) NOAH WAS THE ARK (+)
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at a recent conference several people asked
why Noah didn’t sleep for over a year
answer: Because Noah was the Ark
he had to be surface minded
at all times
SNAP YOUR FINGERS LITTLE CHILD
Noah was the Ark
12/22/2023
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many find it difficult to accept that Noah was the Ark
no problem with animals marching two-by-two
into a vessel and remaining safe and sound
—————Noah was the Ark
Noah swallowed the Kernel of Life
a splash of error, a slap of wrongdoing
Noah was the mighty white beast
Moby Dick, a true Multiple
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I think that they harmed that man for his words
“Truth, sandpaper against thyself”
atrocities (here and now)
silence is purchased
with punishment
crops will fail
fruit spoil
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Christmas/Placebo Town
questions about portrayer and portrayed
amplified loneliness
what seems the endless
night sky
“why Lord, the fingerprints, the navel ?”
incarcerated in the library basement
acclimated to its rigidities
the constant fear
of being cropped out of the picture
the librarian with her full face
her lesbian war paint
gender identity
gender guilt
God constantly forcing her to think
about what she has done
her estrogen escapades
her eggs close to the surface
males sniffing her jelly
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early Christmas morning
the clock stopped at 8 after 2
I’ve sat here for hours thinking that it was 2 o’clock
Bowie fresh from the clouds overhead
boiled potatoes in the kitchen
all alone, no wife
no night porter
I RESIDE INSIDE A SKELETON
earlier I was in the wilderness
———0———
so many abstract one aspect
not the whole experience
(+) robots dream about removing nature from nature
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In the Chicago
of my hallucination
it is always 25 or 6 to 4
before the great decline
of Western Civilisation
except at Christmas time
when Kanye West
comes to town
wearing his thorny crown
and a pair of Nike Air Yeezy
looking for a Jew to crucify
before the sun goes down
the home of Muddy Waters
and that Motown sound
just ain’t been the same
since Marvin Gaye
high on cocaine
was gunned down
beyond the point
of sexual healing
outside his front door
whilst California dreaming
on April Fools Day 1984
by his own father
with the very revolver
that Marvin had given him
Marvin Gaye
the murdered son
of a cross-dressing
preacher man
if only Kanye West
had such a caring father
instead of an ex-black panther
it would be my pleasure
to present him with
a Smith & Wesson revolver
but at least Kanye West
ain’t no Ed Sheeran
that whimsical ginger crooner
the unoriginal musical disaster
Placebo Town Records
has a lot to answer for
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the nameless poet
my personal romantic mist
secret walls and bawdy thoughts
intellectual scrutiny and drugs
vulnerable at best
(+) the dexterity of Michael (+)
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seminal analysis of seminal violence
HE (the man)
could pick up his Christmas tree
and beat his wife and child to death
perhaps, not to death
just enough so they
would faithfully
obey HIM
(+) the first rule of Christmas is to love yourself
ass-to-ass contact
no monkey business
no reach around, no tug
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on the television, Holiday Special:
SLOWLY DROWNING QUADRIPLEGICS
the less beautiful given more coverage
wheelchair children and wheelchair adults
free to stand and walk away
limbs numb past pain
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the guys at pOETRY wORKSHOP were snapping their fingers and chanting:
ass-to-ass contact———no monkey business———no reach around, no tug
———0———0———0———
lacking sufficient insight into this situation
grappling with more perverse manifestations
—————-counterfeit Michael the Youngest
how can a Multiple keep his sense
of right and wrong ?
the past
conflict city
sorrowful virgins
wishing me the blade
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I took the one thing only a man can take
———–one thing only a man can take
———–one thing only a man can take
it was love
the perfectibility of love
in this world of wax fruit and artificial trees
I was given permission to visit downstairs
my penis got fired up and made haste
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above all else:
LOVE YOURSELF
Baby Boy nurses himself
suspended in air
under the rooftop of the world
one ladder to the moon
one to Placebo Town
from a life of high mood
ideas and words fused together
with crazy ass emotion and sediment
friends/relatives need to be ploughed
the soil of their soul run through
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dozens of trips aboard a magic swirling ship
a thousand years
and a hundred lives lived
to get the significance of broken friendships
and alien relationships into perspective
it is true that you get to keep what you kill
but then what you do with it
is strictly your business
personally I find
the hardest
yet best policy is a thing called forgiveness
it tends to work magic
when love is in the mix
with a heavy spoonful of victorious
taking the stand on your own behalf
is a death defying act
without a victim
a victim impact statement
is simply a statement of fact
with all sentiment left behind
on the killing floor at pOETRY wORKSHOP
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terminated in death
commoners gripping tight
the edges of what they knew
that which is distorted
childhood reflections
from imitation
they discovered themselves
arms and legs and strange shapes
women with huge nanny goat breasts
contemplate the strength and splendor
of each dandy that arrives in coach
great social organs on full display
pearl drops and wads of snot
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motifs, words, images
crazy people killing horses for food
so soon it was human and not horse
—————–smugglers of Jesus Christ
continuance through obstacles
adversaries but few advocates
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rub two sticks together
mister field guide
your dainty
too tight
rub two sticks together
buttercup
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crazy subject matter people talk about
the guy caught in China handing out
Bibles
put in prison
forced to eat horse meat
developed what was believed to be a tumor
but in the light of day, it was an extra arm
not just any ordinary third arm
it was the source
of Holy Orgasms
while other prisoners
were tortured with labor
angelic fingers were masturbating
prison guards and political officials
the ultimate squeeze and stroke
(at night he touched himself)
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a million requests for a hand job
the lawn covered
with erections
Kentucky Derby horses
slaughtered for lunch
——————————-a carrot for a good horse
——————————-we mean you no harm
ex-wives
self-begetting
butts the size of Japan
plough around in friendship
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children taught
no matter how nude
brings in the cash money
one can never be naked enough
children standing by the roadside
begging resources from city tourists
automobile people who read R. Frost
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surrogates
hybrid identities
MultipleMichaels
half man, half circus
neither one thing
nor the other
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Yoko Ono
an Easter martyr
who shows up at Christmas
———0——–
fur-lined thighs
backdoor hiccups
beware fire-bombs
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