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 
when it comes to obtaining the pill to get the pill
no one considers age or number of enemies killed
it just boils down that some sign on the dotted line
and others get a headache from drinking Jimson tea
I sit on the shoulders of others
often my smiles are frowns
my faces take turns
I’m never mean
too far gone
to care
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I was carried
from the Placebo Town
truck stop
on the shoulders of midgets
It was considered an honour
to be sacrificed
for the greater good
of the town folk
and to ensure
the upcoming harvest
But just my luck
the guillotine blade got stuck
It had never happened before
So when them cotton balls
got rotten
I left town on the very next
outbound truck
Datura highway straight ahead
where the adventure
was relentlessly non-stop
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I’ve seen the photographs of me
weeping by the waters of Babylon
complete frankness with no fear
for those extinguished by death
who have no shortcuts or detours
no ability to share cinema
sometimes the smell of false prophets
floats over to Placebo Town
Pseudo-Jesus and horned angels
wave as they drift overhead
they pee and poop
their counterfeit bombs
but find it impossible to
materialize in reality
they are numbered
and heart numb
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Any given night or day
the ethereal becomes substantial
A throbbing sound
coming from Datura Highway
the main artery
from Babylon to Placebo Town
where the statues are bleeding
No one there dares
call it a miracle
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standing in line to pick up my daily dose
the lady in front of me
said that she had stopped petting her pet
(was I being tested ?)
the guy behind me offered to pet her pet
after getting the pill to get the pill
I rode the bus over to the library
nervous that the pet lady might be following me
the head librarian visually registered my level of intoxication
I could see inside her and she was due to drop a log
almost everything was transparent
old people and bronchial congestion
the battle for breath
perhaps an oxygen tent
in a bathroom stall
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the head librarian was walking around as if she was on the cover of a magazine
using visual scissors I removed her hands and replaced them with crab claws
addition by subtraction, she was far more dangerous
God help the guys who swig moonshine outside
insignificant pebbles in the flow of reality
inside the library the current is swift
riffraff and rubbish have no chance
out the door and down the street
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At the Pandoric Temple
grand opening
Plácido Domingo
sang the national anthem
‘Placebo Supremo’
Accompanied by a golden shower
from the #MeToo Histrionic Choir
Lady Gaga and Ed Sheeran
joined in on the performance
The Temple had been built
over the ruins of the Führerbunker
so it has deep spiritual significance
The Mayor of Placebo Town
read lines from the poem
‘Not All That Splashes Is Golden’
He was wearing a raincoat
at the time
but his pants were down
as he proudly declared
the Pandoric Temple open
The Rolling Stones were
the final act
singing …
🎶 I went down
to the Placebo Town drugstore
To get your prescription filled
I was standing in line
with Mr. Jimi
And man
did he look pretty ill
as he took yet another
jagged blue pill
We decided that we
would have a soda
My favorite flavor
cherry red
I sung my song to Mr. Jimi
Yeah
and he said one word to me
and that was “dead”
I said to him:
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
Well, you just might find
You get what you need 🎶
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when I see Lady Gaga perform
I see an earthworm exposed
moving her lips like a fish
desperate to be returned
Lady Gaga digging a tunnel to Placebo Town
with a tiny souvenir spoon from a gift shop
is she a monster or a carnival clown ?
most people know that she can sing
but where is the amusement in that
an adult wearing a disguise
background dancers
tinkering the past
dreadful at best
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If dogs run free
Then why not we
Across the swooping plain?
My ears hear a symphony
Of two mules, trains and rain
The best is always yet to come
That’s what they explain to me
Just do your thing, you’ll be king
If dogs run free
If dogs run free
why not me
Across the swamp of time?
My mind weaves a symphony
And tapestry of rhyme
Oh, winds which rush my tale to thee
So it may flow and be
To each his own, it’s all unknown
If dogs run free
If dogs run free
Then what must be
Must be
And that is all
True love can make a blade of grass
Stand up straight and tall
In harmony with the cosmic sea
True love needs no company
It can cure the soul
It can make it whole
If dogs run free
~ Bob Dylan
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The head librarian
of Placebo Town
wears her halo of silence
like a holy crown
But her silent demeanour
is but a hollow pretence
When I asked her
for some Shakespeare
She handed me
‘The Merchant of Venice’
and then asked how
I’d like my pound of flesh?
I said …
“Loud, well done,
and with a side of relish.”
So she showed me a photograph
of Rock Hudson wearing a dress
she had hidden
in a book of Guinness Records
She then proceeded to stamp
my library card very hard
as she liked to punish
and be punished
promising to call an ambulance
when she had finally finished
I lost conciousness
after fifty shades of darkness
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rich people stay warm in the winter
and cold in the summer
they stand in line
to get the pill
I take the pill to get the pill
a false heaven on earth
pancakes with angels
free library WIFI
a private librarian
who researched my identity
and one day stated, “you worked for NASA”
a test pilot for UFOs and other weird aircraft
she showed me a photo of the crash that took me legs
I thought to myself, “wish she had photos of me old lovers”
it sure gets lonely at night and I would love to stare at their eyes
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they say that to take the pill to get the pill
undermines the very concepts of rehabilitation
in Placebo Town, traditional orientations are inverted
(+) taking the magic pill opens one to the suffering of others
laboring with myself, I try not to be a closed book
silently pursuing the salvation of fallen folk
Judgment Cometh, confinement in sight
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I took a pill to get a thrill
I never suspected that
ingesting red poison
boosts your blue immune system
When the Word Virus detected
my engorged mutation
excreting a pulsating vaccine
the Supreme Council declared it
a Code Red Violation situation
I just went on humming
Dylan’s ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’
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several of the older kids in town
had photographs
of engorged
organs
excreting a cloudy substance
having no idea what the reality
of the demonic images
might be
something from the shaded past ?
a bond that adults share with evil ?
the dark side of life so often denied ?
every face in the crowd
has been betrayed by love
silent lips screaming
“no return”
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Wake up in the morning
there’s a snap around the place
Wake up in the morning
there’s a crackle in your face
Wake up in the morning
there’s a pop that really says
“Rice Krispies for you
and you and you”
Pour on the milk and listen
to the snap that says “It’s nice”
Pour on the milk and listen
to the crackle of that rice
~ The Rolling Stones
(How Kellogg’s paid for Mick’s
very first pair of socks)
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“That Mississippi farm
it wasn’t much
But girl, it was a home for us.
Now we can never go back
Because I heard it from the Judge.
He said: “Son . . .
the people in Placebo Town won’t
have anything to do with you now”.
Say goodbye for the very last time
to the place we love somehow.
We can never go back
to the garden of Eden.
Adam and Eve have sinned.
We can’t go back again. Oh no no.
She was sixteen
and I was a twenty-five.
For the first time in my life
I really felt alive.
But we never should have done
what we done when we went
into Placebo Town.
The Mayor made a wrong move
when he took his trousers down
(💥 Gunshot)
We can never go back
to the garden of Eden.
Adam and Eve have sinned.
We can’t go back again. Oh no no.”
~ Bubbling Buzz Cauldron
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citizens of Placebo Town
seem to be constantly
plagued by toothaches
sometimes late at night
I walk around with pliers
and yank out the devils
when they open their mouths
I can smell the richness of life
digestion and decay
birth and death
hints of cynicism
suspicion and resentment
—————–
—————–
the virtues of escape
an uninhibited existence
it was all a lie
but readers appreciate a liar
an educated vagabond
who has journeyed in outer space
like a Disney character on crack
pushing buttons
and turning dials
praying for something more
some miracle of consciousness
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that old-fashioned ending
that neatly ties together everything
younger people acting as abbreviations
people who quote God counting hairs
penises: exact measurements 24 hours a day
intimate details can never be too intimate
the farther one is located from God
the more one assumes
they know something about everything
even the strange flap on the stomach
of Maharishi the Earthbound Yogi
who was on a Kellogg’s cereal box
with a skinny wife of Frank Sinatra
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“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.”
– Pablo Picasso
“Be curious, not judgemental.”
~ Walt Whitman
“Normality is a paved road.
It’s comfortable to walk
but no flowers grow on it.”
~ Vincent Van Gogh
“Do not be dismayed by the
brokenness of the world.
All things break. And all things
can be mended. Not with time,
as they say, but with intention.
So go love intentionally,
extravagantly, unconditionally.
The broken world waits in
darkness for the light that is you.”
-L.R. Knost
“One knows what one is, but
know not what one may be.”
~ William Shakespeare
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sooner or later, the ex-astronaut drifts toward
the magnetism of the poetic-religious
the strong pull of the woman
Eve with her punishment
harsh judgments
dark imagery
COMMAS IN AN OLD TESTAMENT SENTENCE
the outside world becomes a tide pool
where every thought and action
can be reviewed and weighed
illusion and self-delusion
saloon girl romance
continuous sex
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That junkie is a major tom
He finds it hard
keeping his spacesuit on
HAL 9000 told him
that the Cyber Truth
would set him free
Now he’s fully frozen
floating around the galaxy
aimlessly space walking
talking to a black hole
on the event horizon
In Placebo Town
no one can hear you scream
“Ground Control,
we have a problem!
Major Tom has just awoken
. . . from a dream.”
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indulging
in a private hobby
pulling teeth in the dark
by the light of a flashlight
or possibly a cigarette lighter
Placebo Town
the plateau of gender
femininity and masculinity
the damaged secrets of angels
whistleblowers in heaven discarded
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I walk around all day
with the teeth of strangers
a front pocket for both sexes
angel teeth I grind up and snort
(@) one year I was Mr. Peter North
eager and mature and rather handsome
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they make jokes about the dick cutting scissors
a clip here
a clip there
an easy ticket
to the front row
clod-hopper legs
brown deterioration
coupled with a nasty smell
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there was talk at school
how things happen
being way too eager
at recess
he taught himself
his hand a gentle yank
(@) a tireless lover who sneaks in at weird moments
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all windows face loneliness
Eden in all directions
but never in sight
the sons of Cain sleep in beds
while I sleep on the street
when strangers ask directions
I point them in the direction
of the Promised Land
“don’t hesitate or you’ll lose your way”
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————————-all windows face loneliness
————————-Eden in all directions
————————-but never in sight
people who have lived a great number of years
know that the Serpent was loneliness
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a mysterious hatred of today
A MYSTERIOUS HATRED OF TODAY
a mysterious hatred of today
the television broadcasts people standing on the streets
mostly at night under artificial light
all kinds of humans in deep protest
homemade signs
and factory reproductions
various screams and yells
like those at sporting events
only much more cut-throat
at first I thought
they were entertaining
babysitters dressed in blue
but I was wrong—really wrong
the whole circus seems small-minded
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IN MY DAY
the children are deflowered before they are born
not a mighty horn but one of the lesser horns
the fear and the promise
the Rape of the Rose
the fear and the promise
The Man of Sin takes control
life has taken on a new understanding
otherworldly beings seem to dictate the stage
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wearing the skins of ancient Judaism
standing up in pain
waving history goodbye
life is now a scenario
we are at best
actors with roles assigned
I am me and you are you
children of the triple pattern
crisis-judgment-reward
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tombstones
markers for failure and imperfection
all the dead holding hands under the ground
the struggle up above
children who neglected
their Bible and their studies
Jerusalem no longer on any map
Ken and Barbie to finalize the struggle
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like a laboratory animal in a dark experiment
the floor dirty with evidence of a struggle
wondering what the hell to expect
lanterns eager to illuminate
“point us Lord, light us”
Public Welfare proper
bend over and take it
Sodomy First Class
————————-I didn’t know how to spell penitentiary
so I just put down “big house” (older guys who were acquainted with
the rules of prosody and rhyme had lubricants stolen from the kitchen)
The first rule was to ignore the pain. The second rule was learn how
to disguise the pleasure. Everyone had their favorite fellow.
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the damaged wings of angels all about
whistleblowers blown and discarded
foundlings with clay feet
the smell of women
on their fingers
a suggestion of
mature crack
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mix the profane with the religious
and one has the perfect vehicle
genius sees itself reflected
in the weak-minded
religious cabaret
Front Row
the bride with her strength and resilience
ready to pull the infants out and throw them on stage
from one prison to another, family was strong behind bars
the boys in jail, the daughters doing it for 50 cents or a quarter
stolen cigarettes delivered in a wheelbarrow painted red
the rabbi drops a dollar and two rather large loads
half the town sprang from his loins
proud of his nut sac and length
more beast than man
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there was a large magnifying glass
in the bathroom stall reserved for the curious
the truck stop restroom known as an adult playground
episodes of “Up Yours” constantly in production
very delicate and often dangerous off-key sex
tabloids overflowing with puritanical disgust
(@) squabbles with the size of angels
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I just returned
from an excursion
to the Grand Emporium
of Placebo Perversion
The plebeians were doing
their weekly shopping
Plastic bags full of nothing
All synchronised
to the music playing
Mass consumption
is the hypnotising mantra
There’s an inflatable doll
that sells very well
She has lubricated moving parts
She’s guaranteed to break hearts
Her name is Placebia
🎶 Wanna tell about my baby
You know she comes around
About five feet four
From her head to the ground
Well, she comes around here
Just about midnight
Make me feel so good
Make me feel all right.
And her name is P, L, A, C, E, B, I,
yi-yi-yi-yi
P, L, A, C, E, B, I, A …. Placebia!
P, L, A, C, E, B, I, A …. Placebia!
I’m wanna shout it ev’ry night
Placebia!
I’m wanna shout it ev’ry day
Placebia!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, all right 🎶
Excuse me while I go
and unpack my shopping
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PLACEBIA
I’ve always wanted to see that name in print
but way too fearful to arrange the letters
the personification of sex
all the boys had pocketknives
and tales of her rose watered
her elongated clitoris
that had a tongue
Placebia was the first human to say
“THERE ARE NO FEMALES IN HEAVEN”
Adam has no mother
Eve has no mother
God has no mother
(cigarettes have a wet nurse, the Lady Nicotine)
why no females in heaven ?
because the serpent inside them
has the DNA of Dominance
(@) only God bears dominance in heaven
the Old Believers on television
crying about the sinking vessels of the Word
only one church left in Kentucky
and they handle snakes
and drink bleach
and their children stand by the road
hoping to exchange trinkets for love
each with a separate indigestion
the taste of a small mouth
rhythmically
with the knife poised to strike
the sacrificial knife
the foreskin to feed to the fable
the rabbi with the woman arm and hand
the rabbi with only half a heart
the mastery of the bootleg half
the Princess Placebia
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A totally liberated Placebia
is a threat to all mankind
That pagan Queen of Heaven
and part time fertility goddess
Placebo Town’s head librarian
she’s certain to blow the mind
of any poor unsuspecting heathen
Part Babylonian
Fully Amazon
Survival of the Fittest
is her game
Her insatiable hunger
upon the wings of fury
is passive aggressiveness
The placebo majora
of an Alpha Banshee
is her claim to fame
Clitoria in Excelsis
her soft artifice
of devouring lust
is just too much
for any man to face
Ever commanding
an upstanding performance
The hard fulfilment
of her swirling vortex
A primal void that holds
humanity in a trance
within the folds
of her relentless embrace
Walking in the Spirit
is a question of balance
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passive-aggressive
the very thing that makes men
behave like butt-sniffing monkeys
———–a sudden thought of a lone giraffe
frozen in fear
afraid that God
will reach down
and snap its neck
the distant sound of Miles Davis
playing “THE MAN GONNA BREAK YOUR NECK”
———-when the man got you down
and you got no where to hide
———-when the man got you down
and you got no where to hide
———————–
“Placebia, come quick with your man-trap”
hoping she will suck all enemies dry
break off their manly limbs
and beat them dead
with both left
and right
Placebia may disguise herself
and wear the uniform of the library
but she is no queen in the holy upstairs
more likely the Land of the Empty Calorie
the Fatty Liver Mesa or the Black Lungs Dugout
—————————————
for those who concern themselves with narrative sequence
progression to an end and regression to an origin
alternative routes to the same goal
Princess Placebia may be
the circumference of Adam
but she is NOT the center of Christ
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Did Adam have nipples?
Did Michaelangelo get it wrong
when he painted the Sistine Chapel?
Does pride come before a fall
when biting the big apple?
Was everything good
in the Garden of Eden?
Was Eve the weak link
when it came to rebellion?
Sex has nothing to do
with Original Sin.
That was a Placebo Town thing
to get the party swinging
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“that was a Placebo Town thing
to get the party swinging”
————-now that is funny !!!
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ADAM HAD NIPPLES BEFORE EVE
Adam and Jesus both have nipples
males nourish one another in heaven
here on earth that sounds silly
but some soul-milk in heaven
that’s the thing
yes, that’s the thing
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the Original Sin was loneliness
the separation from God
Eve had it to the second power
her loneliness was corrupt
DNA from Adam and the earth
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as we slowly floated
on the famous river
dead people would surface
and lick the sides of the boat
someone asked,
“are they searching for a nipple ?”
I heard the reply from the oarsman
but I’m not going to repeat it
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as we slowly floated
on the famous river
one of the dead Beatles
drifted over and warned us
“REPENT before it is too late”
a blue face with blue lips
with emphasis on that word
REPENT (brutal simplicity)
a dead Beatle
no longer picturesque
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take the drugs
a full week in a day
words from sleeping lips
everyday voice pillow bound
drugs that draw living sentences
how much love escapes the derelict ?
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a dead Beatle
who could spend the day
polishing gold
or guessing the weight of diamonds
a dead Beatle
who could sleep inside
a different woman
twice a day
but the dead Beatle turned boyish
blowing bubbles and talking repent
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in a plastic baggie
I had the ever-ready verbal topping
for a dead Beatle birthday cake
(@) the quicksilver cleverness of rock and roll
an imaginative boy
who could make other children submit
girls with curls and starched underpants
scamps with pocket money to toss away
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open questions
fields of open questions
outside the walls of Placebo Town
thorny questions with souvenirs
from those who have passed
death deeply intertwined
reciprocal expression
androgynous
in nature
(@) close friends from acquaintances on the basis of intimacy
———
———
not out of fear or need
communication genderless
graveyard mannequins waving
like black birds in the family tree
disfigurement so many years ago
transitory fame living outside death
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Radio Placebo has a proud
history of banning songs
They’re been doing it since
Judas Priest and Black Sabbath
climbed the charts to No.1
Back when Adam was young
and Eve would sing along
Here’s just one . . .
🎶Holy Moses met the Pharaoh
Yeah, he tried to set him straight
Looked him in the eye,
“Let my people go!”
Holy Moses on the mountain
High above the golden calf
Went to get the Ten Commandments
Yeah, he’s just gonna break ’em in half!
All you zombies hide your faces,
All you people in the street,
All you sittin’ in high places,
The pieces gonna fall on you
No one ever spoke to Noah,
They all laughed at him instead
Workin’ on his ark,
Workin’ all by himself
Only Noah saw it comin’,
Forty days and forty nights,
Took his sons and daughters with him,
Yeah, they were the Israelites!
All you zombies hide your faces,
All you people in the street,
All you sittin’ in high places,
The rain’s gonna fall on you
Holy Father, what’s the matter?
Where have all your children gone?
Sittin’ in the dark,
Livin’ all by themselves,
You don’t have to hide anymore!
All you zombies show your faces,
All you people in the street,
All you sittin’ in high places,
The pieces gonna fall on you!
All you zombies show your faces,
(I see you out there!)
All you people in the street,
(Let’s see you!)
All you sittin in high places,
It’s all gonna fall on you! 🎶
~ The Hooters
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INSIDE THE WALLS OF PLACEBO TOWN
OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF PLACEBO TOWN
physical love arrives
(+) wrapped in expensive gift paper
(+) in a duck squirt of disgust
physical relations under a darkness
Eve exercising her egg tube in private
anonymous, exhausted with reproduction
Adam watched himself being made
she watched herself being made
now she was frantic populating
a baby a day except Sunday
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Mick spent
much of his life
trying to find Placebia Majora
To make her fall madly
in love with him
and to make her his wife
For she was no
honky tonk woman
But he was no Jungle Jim
my friend
so he made do with Jerry Hall
It just wasn’t the same
She was no comparison at all
It could only end in strife
You see
he had met Placebia
but once
in the helter skelter
of a backstage
summer swelter
where she completely knocked
his space cotton socks off
Keith was hoping to go next
as Charlie kept beat
and Bill headed for the exit
But just before any encore
the whole band was arrested
For Placebia was the daughter
of the Placebo Town sheriff
Maximus Majora
And wandering minstrels
he particularly detested
It took all their money
and a good lawyer
to get them out of there
Jagger was forbidden
from ever again seeing her
but he could never forget
that sweet sixteen
Placebia Majora
Hotter than a chipotle pepper
Once tasted
a lifetime of regret
Secretly
he never stopped
singing about her . . .
🎶If I could stick my pen
in my heart
And spill it all over the stage
Would it satisfy you?
Would it slide on by you?
Would you think
the boy is strange?
Ain’t he strange?
If I could win you,
if I could sing you
A love song so divine
Would it be enough
for your cheating heart
If I broke down and cried?
I said, can’t you see
that this old boy
has been a-lonely?
If I could stick a knife
in my heart,
suicide right on stage
Would it be enough
for your teenage lust
Would it help to ease the pain?
Ease your brain
If I could dig down deep
in my heart
Feelings would flood
on the page
Would it satisfy you?
Would it slide on by you?
Would you think the boy’s insane?
He is insane
I said, can’t you see
that this old boy
has been a-lonely
And do you think
that you’re the only girl around?
I bet you think that you’re
the only woman in Placebo Town 🎶
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watching other people masturbate
not feeling a thing
running nonstop
in dreams
——————————she said that a huge wad of cash
would compensate for the humiliation
——————————profound self-abandonment
with half-a-man in public locations
a superior soundtrack behind feeling like the center of the universe
a nothingness that becomes a fullness of being
I kept asking myself
could I drop a tear
at the correct
moment
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I remember when Mick drove that odd automobile
a small car off a roller coaster with a jet engine
he loved the fact that Jerry Hall
was a size irregular for the passenger seat
sometimes when people find themselves drowning in wealth
a sucker parasite will attach itself and help relieve the pressure
Jerry Hall was a tall carnivalized sucking machine
she believed herself safe from the harmful effects
beautiful and a talented money-grubber
paper cuts on her lips
and dare-say
backdoor
————
————
romance with Mick
a loose collection of episodes
subplots in a fancy candy store
naughty sex in $700 cotton socks
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“The path to paradise begins in hell.”
~ Dante Alighieri
Bryan Ferry
and Jerry Hall
Now that was a match
made in a Roxy Musical
Rocky Horror kind of hell
A divine comedy maybe
but in the town of Placebo
Jerry’s tiger skin dress
caused all the boys
to make a mess
as they went up
like a towering Inferno
Dante himself
was most impressed
But Jerry was looking
for something bigger
She wouldn’t settle
for second best
So with Bryan
no sticking together
when along came Jagger
But there can be no denying
Mick was only ever after
that tiger skin dress 🐅
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someone went on a reality show
and described the moon
now a large number of people
go outside at night
and the moon seems wrong
the moon is no longer
a free agent
a trained technician
removes your lower half
and shows no respect
those who lack the exterior
permit the interior to venture out
(@) pedestrian whispers
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Much like the Earth
the Moon isn’t what it use to be
Since the shadow fell
things haven’t been the same
As under a necromancer’s spell
The Angels once frolicked there
playing angelic games
having fairy bread picnics
and drinking cups of herbal tea
Now it’s all lunar rocks
and space cotton socks
For there’s work to be done
under a blaring Sun
But the promise of a new dawn
when angelic fun will return
Heaven and Earth
again reunited as one
The Innocence young
no longer to burn
under Old Scratch’s thumb
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the hobo crowd drank Mad Dog or Thunderbird
rednecks were known to swig Old Scratch whiskey
the grim reaper with a scythe on the label
————-
————-
designer drugs dusted on fairy bread crumbs
a measure of pleasure complete with upheaval
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Maximus Majora
the Placebo Town sheriff
and patron saint
of the Chaos Theory
is also the head producer
of Meet The Placebos
that top rating reality TV show
(Entertainment for the lonely
Totally without merit
or even a story)
starring his pubescent daughter
Placebia Majora
(You can now purchase
a sexbot replica of her
lovingly made in China
To avoid disappointment
be sure to place your order
in time for Christmas)
The show is a big success
and a real money spinner
Maximus now wears a dress
He even shares make-up
and boyfriends
with his daughter
There’s nothing original
under the Sun
when it comes to
a Placebo Town carnival
of the carnal
and what passes for fun
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the elders face down on the floor
singing a hymn of thanksgiving
God invisible
Jesus in the colors of completion
—–meanwhile in Placebo Town
reality is coated in corrupt glitter
mothers teaching their children
to move fast in a quiet mode
young ones on the path
paranoid of vile slang
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The Placebo Town motto
“If you pay your bill, you
may keep what you kill.”
It is the code
that all the town’s folk
endeavour to live up to
If you’re all mixed up
and lost in a fuddle
just take another pill
Mother’s Little Helper ®
has proven most popular
There’s never an excuse
for being caught
in an existential muddle
It’s not good for business
and is diagnosed by most
as a sign of rebelliousness
To be frowned upon
by the citizens
of Placebo Town
can only spell trouble
Always remember
and don’t be forgetting
they keep what they kill
if you fail to pay the bill
Look what happened
to Martin Luther King
… The Junior
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VERY GOOD !!!
I can see Popeye saying,
“I pays me bill
I keeps me kill”
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Brutus was the hit man
sent to dispatch
that spinach eating Popeye.
He was becoming far too popular
with tattooed vegans
and seafaring vagabonds.
Not to mention
the always passionate Olive Oyl
whom Brutus longed to abuse
and use as a lubricant.
“Et tu, Brutus?!”
Popeye was heard to cry.
As Brutus crept into his cabin.
“I expected someone like you.
Are you an assassin?”
“I’m a sailor with a dagger.”,
came Brutus’ mocking reply,
“Who were you expecting
. . . Mick Jagger?!”
“You’re neither.
You’re an errand boy,
sent by grocery clerks,
to collect a bill.”,
Popeye spat back
as he reached for
his very last tin of spinach.
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the elders face down on the floor
singing a hymn of thanksgiving
God invisible
Jesus in the colors of completion
—–meanwhile in Placebo Town
reality is coated in corrupt glitter
mothers teaching their children
to move fast in a quiet mode
young ones on the path
paranoid of vile slang
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one can purchase hard-boiled eggs in a plastic baggie
at the Upper Placebo Amusement Park
locals claim that 3 eggs in the gut
and the root will be laid bare
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tattooed vegans
bedroom walls covered with posters of Popeye
the love of Popeye is not defined by distinctions
between right and wrong
but between experience
and inexperience
Popeye from an unknown womb
a violent upbringing, experiential
cabin boy to cruel sadistic bastards
deckhand with men known to rape farm animals
and somehow Popeye survived and now loved as a folk hero
vegans have a warm spot in their hearts for a spinach eater
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I have seen the future
and it is spinach
The lost Kingdom of Compost
is hidden way down
a deep wooded forest
along that road taken
by Robert Frost
at great personal cost
Those dark woods are no good
for them without nautical skills
who don’t keep their promises
and don’t pay their bills
For all those brave souls
who sail upon the sea
spinach is the answer
Spinach will set you free
The Gardener of all creation
holds the supernatural key
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tonight was “Popeye Night”
at the truck stop
I won $50
and the title “Mister Trivia”
I recalled Olive Oyl’s boyfriend
before Popeye (Ham Gravy)
and her brother (Castor Oyl)
gypsies and outlaws
begging for bouts of hit and run
the unthinkable seemed so pleasurable
adults playing you-or-me with strangers
(@) the lights were turned off to prevent shock
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Enuff to make
your trucking eyes pop
A Chicken Parmigiana
of Pirated Pleasure
at the Red Light at Night
Placebo Town truck stop
Where from dusk till dawn
you can always
get what you want
Olive Oyl’s rarely heard
safety word is
“Hamburger … with the lot!”
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mindless optimism
sailors in rowboats
tins of spinach
organic
I tried to talk to Popeye
but he was in a foggy state
I swear that he smelled like a cartoon
Popeye had pockets full of idle promises
front row tickets for the destruction of Sodom
———————-poets perched over hot lava
the Torah under the short table leg
the further one removes religion
the closer it seems to become
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Popeye took
a part time job
as a security guard
at the Happiness Museum
It’s that building surrounded
by razor wire
in the centre of Placebo Town
Many believe it was built
on the ashes of Sodom
There’s a sign saying
“All Are Welcome”
but the entrance is well hidden
Much to his irritation
Popeye soon became
the main attraction
since smoking a pipe
had long been banned
from all social engineering
politically correct animation
Feeling like a circus geek
he quit the gig
saying,
“I am not an animal!
I’m Popeye the sailor man.”
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along that road taken by Robert Frost
at great personal cost
endless insomnia
low count stools
the librarian stated
“Cain continues to kill Abel”
huge piles of dead men for the compost
the vulgarity of death puts food on the table
I asked the clerk at the bank
“Don’t you ever wash your hands ?”
traces of the Sabbath under her nails
later I saw her standing behind a truck
selling shiny modern electrical appliances
I wanted to ask if there was a sucking machine
that could give my wife a rest and me a cheerful blast
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Ishmael
ever thankful
for surviving the desert
Yet he attempts
to rewrite
the books of Moses
Tempting a wicked fate
as he follows
a false prophet
A curse in the works
Remnants
descendants
and Jihadi cut-throats
ever coveting
their neighbour’s assets
The lies and Propaganda
of a tribal agenda
Hagar
the self-service
surrogate mother
got Ishmael just so far
through the wilderness
A grand feat of survival
But now he treats women
like burdensome chattel
He disrespects his mother
and enslaves his daughter
Lies and Propaganda
from a minbar of corruption
He kills to protect
his destitute honour
always in dispute
Like Cain
did to Abel
Ishmael
despises his half brother
Isaac
son of Abraham
and Sarah
A family dysfunctional
A squabble tribal
Lies and Propaganda
leaving a trail of despair
When it’s eye for an eye
all must surely die
Ishmael
has no love to spare
for his cousin
Israel
Lies and Propaganda
as the plot gets thicker
Lot
best get
his virgin daughters
well away from there
Yet sooner or later
all Philistines
will bend the knee
and surrender
Just like Delilah
when Sampson
wedded and bedded her
But till then
Sampson had better
sleep with one eye open
No matter how many
treaties you sign . . .
Lies and Propaganda
till the King’s return
Only then
will true peace reign
All heart’s and minds
in tune
with a loving Creator
There is truth
and there is a Saviour
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I was dead with no suitcase packed
way behind in my Spanish lessons
my ticket says Mexico City
not heaven
not even close
I read all those books
stayed up late praying
the good Michael, a sweetheart
giving to those less fortunate
lending a helping hand
celibate and reasonably pure
now I’m dead with no suitcase
my ticket says Mexico City
and I don’t want to go
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Do You Know The Way
To San Placebos
was playing on the radio
when the convoy crossed the border
into Mexico.
The War on Gringos in Spandex
had just been declared by
El Presidente Rodriguez the Grievous
You could be shot
for just wearing pantihose!
Caitlyn Jenner was last seen
in a stunning evening gown
shouting, “Remember the Alamo!”.
The CIA were running the show
on George W. Bush’s orders
Not even San Placebos could save us
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17 channels on the television
Nebuchadnezzar
slaughtering
the sons
of Zedekiah
on each channel
“I mean really………where’s Cain and Abel ?”
naked and beautiful going at it
angel lips Abel
swallowing
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EQUALLY GUILTY
all those Japanese eyes
looking up at the bottom of heaven
universalized by an atomic explosion
the good, the bad, babies with no middle names
Sunday School lessons about history
a weapon or a learning aid
children coloring images
of God destroying
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When it’s eye for an eye
all must surely die
since Adam and Eve took a trip
with Lucy in the Sky
where the diamonds
are but lucid hallucinations
“You too can learn to fly
all the way
to the top of Mount Olympus!
Why not give it a try?
You’re worthy of it.
You have the right to party
whilst drowning in plastic.”
~ Reptilian Zeus
Propaganda and lies
confusing mercy and grace
with a ride on the wild side
whilst living a mess
You have the right to become
God’s child through Jesus Christ
🎼 Somewhere, somehow, somebody
must have kicked you around some.
Who knows
maybe you were kidnapped, tied up,
taken away, and held for ransom.
Honey, it don’t really matter to me.
Baby,
everybody has to fight to be free,
you see . . .
You don’t have to live like a refugee.
🎶 Run and tell all of the angels
This could take all night
Think I need a devil to help me
Get things right
‘Cause this one is a lie
We sat around laughing
And watch the last one die
I’m looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something help me
burn out bright
I’m looking for a complication
Looking ’cause I’m tired of trying
Make my way back home
When I learn to fly (high)
Think I’m done nursing the patience
I can wait one night
I’d give it all away
If you give me one last try
We live happily ever trapped
If you just save my life
Run and tell the angels
That everything is all right
🎼 Well, I won’t back down
No, I won’t back down
You can stand me up
at the gates of hell
But I won’t back down
No, I’ll stand my ground
Won’t be turned around
And I’ll keep this world
from draggin’ me down
Gonna stand my ground
And I won’t back down
I won’t back down
Hey baby,
there ain’t no easy way out
I won’t back down
Hey I will stand my ground
And I won’t back down
Well I know what’s right
I got just one life
In a world that keeps on
pushin’ me around
But I’ll stand my ground
And I won’t back down
~ Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
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(@) no escape from the meaningless pursuit of pleasure
a local librarian called and asked if the library
could borrow my volumes of the Gemara
———-pages tarnished from years of use
endless laws and restrictions
old men who experience rape
through a squeeze, a hug
the children of Moloch
hungry at the door
begging flesh
———
the function of literature
from the cemetery-bound grandparents
neighbor children with gills and web feet
those left living, monstrosities by definition
the function of literature
HISTORY
multitudes of corpses
living death disguised as life
broadcasting love from the mouth
the thing on our face with teeth
where Moloch parades
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I once met Moloch
the postnatal abortionist
at a Farmer’s Market
in the city of Nineveh
After a pleasant walk
in the Hanging Gardens
we sat to eat baklava
and some spicy chicken wings
under a sprawling cedar tree
There Moloch said to me
that he could do
with the help of an arsonist
… and did I know any
I replied that I only knew
a postmodernist artist
named Andy
but sadly he had died
To my surprise
Moloch said that Andy
sounded perfect for the job
as he promptly disappeared
before my very eyes
I had kept my cigarette lighter
well hidden the whole time
because where I come from
incinerating children
is considered a crime
Even in Placebo Town
you need written permission
to have anyone burned
Just then
I heard some commotion
the sound of someone yelling
. . . “Forty more days and
Nineveh will be overturned.”
🎶Who don’t like kids? . . . .
You got a cigar?
Here’s a couple more
Because the offspring are springing through swinging doors
Into a world of “ain’t he cute,
He looks a lot like his father”
And Here comes another
Of that proof that I’m not
just a vegetable
The little Proof that I’m more
than a mineral
The little Proof that I’m just
like the next guy
Who don’t like kids? . . . .
Crawl, walk, running around
Living proof that I’m really sound
They’ll ensure I’m always around
And your bit and my bit’ll
do their dance
To body rumblings
And tumblings and rote romance
And all the while I’m thinking,
Deeply thinking, hey
what’s it gonna be
Sod or celebrity?
Oh well its off to work
And so long baby,
kiss him goodbye for me
Who don’t like kids? . . .
Crawl, walk, running around
Living proof that I’m really sound
They’ll ensure I’m always around
Who don’t like kids?
There’s more in the wings
shall we bring them on or
Shall we just sit and talk
’til the early morn
andRecite sweet nothings
In everybodys ear
Who don’t like kids?
Crawl, walk, running around
Living proof that I’m really sound
They’ll ensure I’m always around
Who don’t like kids?
~ Sparks
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