The Tower of Song

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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

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6,405 thoughts on “The Tower of Song”

  1. many things went wrong for Noah
    compulsive repetitiousness
    rock musicians
    rolling on a
    corpse
    Marilyn Manson
    and his predisposition
    toward violent behavior
    Noah could recall the agony
    when he squeezed Marilyn out

    Like

    1. I watched helpless

      as Rose McGowan

      succumbed to the poison

      she’d ingested

      whilst pinned

      between Harvey Weinstein

      and Marilyn Manson

      as her charmed existence

      came to a tragic end

      that no magic spell

      could ever erase

      leaving a sinking wreck

      with just the faintest resemblance

      to what had once been

      Cherry Darling

      the starlet of Planet Terror

      or the vivacious Paige Matthews

      a teenage boy’s wet dream

      soaked in the ejaculate of pleasure

      a rose by any other name

      now dazed and confused

      and plucked of her hidden treasure

      Like

  2. overhear my words, they are not expired
    the library dreams of covering me
    Straitjacket Michael deep in dust
    perpetual Michaels, Baby Bird
    this is your death—this is your death—this is your death
    an assembly of living beings moved by a single spirit
    an imaginative location, Placebo
    you populate it
    it activates you
    my words are
    observation

    Like

  3. Local Library 2024—————————( books no longer leave the building )
    all the child porn and gay sodomy has been replaced with Robert Frost
    Jewish and Christian material replaced with alien scribbles and dots
    volumes of Reader’s Digest are available
    if you are willing to supply
    a social security number

    Like

  4. my hell should not alter your kitchen color
    just recall that you are a beast
    and your heart is human
    a beating wad of flesh
    I am told that Placebo is a dreadful place
    your kitchen color is safe, Heaven exists
    the pancakes are thick and fresh
    Jesus is in his place and hungry
    smile and he will smile back

    Like

    1. a heavenly place

      flowing with maple syrup

      and strawberry milkshakes

      picnic baskets piled up

      with blueberry pancakes

      and Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies

      celestial uber eats

      flying in and out of those pearly gates

      as angelic waitresses continually

      top up golden goblets and plates

      Like

    1. Death Proof

      in a town called Placebo

      with life and death spilling

      like the blood and water flowing

      in a Quentin Tarantino movie

       L’Ultimo Buscadero

      emblazoned across Marcy’s chest

      within all creation

      in every direction

      there is the imprimatur of the Christ

      meanwhile Stuntman Mike just waits

      for Pam to come next

      as Warren lines up the shots

      Like

  5. YOKO ONO
    the Uroboros of Gnosticism
    her heart, an hourglass in a rosebush
    ——————-mourning the passage of beauty
    ——————-John who swallowed Yahweh’s wrath

    Like

  6. pOETRY wORKSHOP:
    the transference of the poet’s emotion to what is inanimate
    the dead baby, whatever and how many crowd around it
    to cling to notions of innocence, my eyes closed not

    Like

  7. he who will not defend the truth
    may be compelled to
    Milton pointed to Lennon
    “ye be snared and caught”
    the serpent feeds you the illusions
    you wish to believe
    but believe you not
    a single strand
    of
    barbed wire
    in a wind storm

    Like

  8. somehow, they made the dead baby dance
    an output of demonic culture
    like the cries of the cow
    as it was fashioned
    into various belts
    I know the tongue of the cow
    it asks, “why so much pain, have I done wrong ?”

    Like

  9. the wife lives in a marketing and commercial framework
    money is the reward, but it isn’t really a reward
    money holds the razorblade, slices the throat
    money is a problem without a solution
    the nature of art and imagination
    cannot be soiled

    Like

    1. the power of money
      prostitution and slavery
      the power of money
      seven sins times deadly
      the power of money
      will buy you some shares
      in the armaments industry
      the power of money
      will prescribe you a pill
      that drives you to kill
      that power of money
      put Bill Clinton’s cigar
      into the vagina
      of Monica Lewinsky
      the power of money
      had Hillary down on all fours
      and begging for more
      the power of money
      will turn your precious daughter
      into a cheap whore
      the power of money
      has immigrants and the homeless
      lined up at your door
      the power of money
      wages endless bloody war
      from the North to the South
      that power of money
      put Harvey Weinstein’s penis
      into Rose McGowan’s mouth
      in a La La Land flowing
      with semen and blood money
      the power of money
      can rock you
      in the lap of luxury
      or slit your throat
      down a dark alley
      the power of money
      will buy me an hour with Lolita
      and then perhaps …
      a cup of coffee ☕ 🤔🕶️

      Like

  10. the first time you stepped in the taint
    imposed upon all sexual emotion
    everyone saw it on your shoes
    once noted, it was too late
    Daddy got drunk and shot out the streetlight
    fragmentation through the air, gray blankness turned black

    Like

  11. “The Worm Tormentor”
    his finger in his butt
    truck stop poets
    exchanging brown kisses
    *on the computer screen
    a thousand fancy gay men
    discussing the joy of anal sex
    first you feel pain, then the G spot
    complete silence about the urge to shit
    notwithstanding, fecal matter on the ding
    (+) peanut butter from the tip to the hairline

    Like

  12. >>>>>>DIVINE INTERVENTION IS ALWAYS POSSIBLE<<<<<<
    I was selected as the assailant
    the 80yr old woman dropped her egg
    (NIN): if she says come inside
    “I’ll come inside for her”
    ……………………………………………………………
    spiritual aspirations at the sideshow circus
    80yr old woman with high school nebulous
    going to a whore for sex
    perhaps, self-hatred
    a carpet of women
    sleeping on
    the floor
    “Take your pick”
    (+) I wanted some hairless trap
    a volume seldom read
    the final egg
    …………………….
    …………………….
    sex with the 80yr old woman
    was noticeably dry
    she was desperate
    for life-coins
    in her purse

    Like

    1. so

      once again

      on the honky tonk

      side of Placebo Town

      I’m doing time with Ratso Rizzo

      I may run some Texas longhorn

      head of cattle

      and this ain’t my first rodeo

      but that don’t make me

      no down and out

      midnight cowboy 🤠

      with time to kill

      as a paid rhinestone toyboy

      I’d rather be taking a dirt nap

      up on Boot Hill

      Like

  13. it is possible:
    although pregnant
    the 80yr old woman
    could afford shelter and food
    she could pay for both souls
    NO, NOT PAT SAJAK
    NO, NOT ALEX TREBEK
    the touch of flesh
    the sound of another voice
    the baby would be most welcome

    Like

  14. in Florida
    80yr old pregnant woman
    would not make the evening news
    80yr old pregnant woman tries to measure
    the distance between the writer and the reader
    (+) 8 Ball the reader’s reception of the text
    the writer follows patterns
    floats about like dust
    pays to have throat
    squeezed
    (+) 8 Ball the pleasure of silence

    Like

  15. configurations of genitalia
    ………………………………….explicit behavior
    lesbian hidden scatology
    …………………………………”all brown all the time”
    poets matured and in control
    leisurely pace themselves
    hair circles childish raving
    truck drivers/jet pilots
    monstrously hung
    ——————-
    ——————-
    poetry marked
    (+) “OUTSIDE of LITERATURE” (+)
    no real consequences
    just look Jesus in the face
    “Jesus, I’m hankering for some of those glorious pancakes”
    Hillbilly pancakes in Heaven
    a gift with no regrets

    Like

    1. in a land of promises broken
      as it was with Goliath
      the uncircumcised Philistine
      the monstrously hung
      tend to die young
      Placebo Town is where
      the seed of men has no direction
      futility and fertility
      are one and the same
      as the women
      able to bear children
      cover their faces in shame

      Like

  16. 8 Ball the pleasure of silence
    NO redeeming social value
    should I dismiss myself ?
    the lifeless corpse that sleeps in the library basement
    +( having survived squalor and man love )+

    Like

  17. the highway was overloaded with loneliness
    grief was everywhere, clear grief as well as cloudy
    paid the man to squeeze my throat
    he was strong and it became
    difficult to think
    ——————–
    to appreciate
    8 Ball the pleasure of silence

    Like

  18. to the pawn shop
    the cake and candles
    YES, the cake was organic
    …………………………the candles
    …………….honey and milk
    ……….$49 France
    the man at the pawn shop
    traced a poppy on the mirror
    I said, “No thanks, I want the man
    that squeezes me till I come”

    Like

    1. the squeeze was on
      in some erotic
      alternate universe
      splitting
      the primordial atom
      at such a frantic
      slow motion pace
      from evening
      till early morning
      I could hardly breathe
      with that devil’s teat
      firmly in my face
      tasting of salted caramel
      and some exotic spice
      from outer space
      with my 8 ball
      covered in maple syrup
      like an engorged pancake
      in her corner pocket
      I could hardly believe
      it was attached to someone
      so innocent and nice
      with her sweetness
      erupting with each embrace
      I truly am a lucky man
      to have such an amorous
      voluptuous wife
      especially considering
      my erstwhile nefarious life
      full of mischief and strife
      I can only guess that
      pancakes are a heavenly gift
      rather than something
      we’re deserving 🤔🕶️
      pancakes 🥞 a dessert
      you can cut with a knife 🔪

      Like

    2. THE THRILL OF IT All
      not just pancakes
      and chocolate cupcakes
      but that illegal
      Russian roulette
      golden triangle
      Crêpes Suzette
      smothered in maple syrup
      to the pawn shop
      for a cash refill
      and then a top up
      of that delectable
      manna from hell
      just who will it pawn
      whilst chasing that thrill?
      only time will tell
      so . . .
      when hitting the street
      never forget to take
      your redemption ticket
      THE THRILL OF IT ALL
      having a soul
      to keep . . . or even sell
      when you feel your skin
      begin to creep
      and you start to hear
      the toll of the bell 🔔
      in a forsaken land
      where the angels crawl

      Like

    1. I was raised a beggar
      by a family of gypsies
      the only thing that stood
      between me and squalor
      was the spoils of thieves
      in my neighborhood
      hanging out with junkies
      and whores
      like a corpse
      dangling in the breeze
      I thank God daily
      I didn’t die of some disease

      Like

    1. The Beatles third movie for
      United Artists was to be . . .
      ‘The Lord of the Rings’. John
      Lennon was all for it, and keen
      to play the part of Gollum, with
      Paul McCartney as Frodo, George
      Harrison as Gandalf, and Ringo
      Starr as Samwise Gamgee … True!
      Stanley Kubrick was approached
      but declined the offer.
      I think Yoko Ono would’ve made
      the perfect Gollum, with John
      Lennon playing the role of Saruman.

      Like

  19. YOKO ONO——YOKO ONO——YOKO ONO
    not what she was once, on death watch
    they placed a zipper up her front
    late at night Yoko explores
    her most inner self
    squeezing her
    intestines
    fingering
    herself
    from
    the
    inside

    Like

  20. told not to write about the apes
    that lived near the hot zone
    Eden, Eve’s circle home
    apes, weak and sad
    horseflies, blood hungry
    harass the aged, the infirm
    told not to write about the apes
    about God unable to be a woman

    Like

  21. three months of codified poetry
    only to discover one party
    was pork-and-beans
    ———-0———-
    dreams of golden coins
    being tossed
    into the
    wife’s
    purse
    CHARITY FROM THE MALE MEMBER

    Like

    1. that road not taken
      except by the foolhardy
      the forsaken
      and the restless
      with Viking genetics
      inserted surreptitiously
      into a Celtic address
      and then transported
      across the Atlantic
      to become the best
      amongst the worst in the U.S.
      upon a prayer . . .
      “May God Bless!”
      the Llewelyn code
      of the poetically long
      and winding road
      could have never been French
      or from New Orleans
      where the pork is pickled
      and served with red beans
      on that road not taken
      except by the foolhardy
      the forsaken
      and the restless
      sweet dreams are made of this
      hairless primates
      with Viking genetics
      fully loaded with pork-and-beans

      Like

  22. Yoko rubbing herself from the inside
    a shriveled clitoris hood
    audible orgasms
    (+) at an early age, she learned to ape intercourse
    a childhood of folklore and rock and roll tricksters

    Like

  23. sometimes one book will annoy another book at the library
    fragmented narratives/shards of language and emotion
    an occasional Peeping Tom
    “What did he see ?”
    ———————————————–to advance their mercantile
    ———————————————–and imperialistic aims, men
    ———————————————–have discarded their penises

    Like

  24. up from the earth
    the sky smiles
    detach roots
    cycle high
    the covenant of erection/ejaculation
    chop off the head of deception
    whip skepticism/wipe it clean
    Baby Bird, the future proud
    ———————————————————
    the ticket between your legs
    ———————————————————

    Like

  25. they stacked all those 5&10 bibles into a tower
    but even the best nose couldn’t smell heaven
    told that there was a limit to my speed
    that I would skid off a curve and crash
    however, the truth is straight
    obedient without fear

    Like

    1. Seeing we never found gay fairyland
      (Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)
      And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
      For that new bridge that leaves old Styx half-spanned;
      Nor ever unto Mecca caravanned;
      Nor bugled Asgard, skilled in magic rune;
      Nor yearned for far Nirvana, the sweet swoon,
      And from high Paradise are cursed and banned;
      -Let’s die home, ferry across the Channel!
      Thus shall we live gods there.
      Death shall be no sev’rance.
      Weary cathedrals light new shrines for us.
      To us, rough knees of boys shall ache with rev’rence.
      Are not girls’ breasts a clear, strong Acropole?
      -There our oun mothers’ tears shall heal us whole.

      ~ Wilfred Owen

      Like

    1. pOETRY wAXWORKS
      reality in a microcosm
      the flesh hungry
      the soul thirsty
      I really do think
      I feel
      therefore
      I probably am
      but is that
      just an illusion?
      there’s no way
      to be certain
      exploration
      multiplication
      delving with Elves
      into the essence
      of this existence
      slaves to the
      beauty of perfection
      desire is the fire
      both a blessing
      and a curse
      when set upon
      by hairy Orcs
      getting a bikini wax
      passion beyond reason
      gasping in the vacuum
      of theoretical physics
      for every purpose
      a season
      hope
      faith
      and love
      in a chaotic universe
      where Elves
      become Orcs
      if they fail in the quest
      to be true
      to their higher selves
      first the physical
      then the spiritual
      in a game of survival
      where life is set loose
      to become
      the best or the worst
      in this microcosm of reality
      where truth is out of reach
      at pOETRY wAXWORKS
      as a pod of Elves
      paddle out past the reef
      I just sit with the Orcs
      on this endless beach
      waxing my surfboard
      without any excuse
      for not striving for heaven
      in this microcosm of reality
      where conformity
      is mistaken for sanity
      what use
      could eternity possibly be
      as one sweet day
      the waxworks of Orcs
      will all just melt away
      and this microcosm of reality
      will finally cease to exist

      Like

  26. >>>>>>>>>>>>WILFORD OWEN<<<<<<<<<<<<
    after the news
    Mom and Dad never shut the front door
    they granted their son the right to come and go
    death can be intimidating, multi-dimensional, dirty
    all things pass, seasons, friends, wads of sky cotton

    Like

    1. who will survive
      in a spot of wet weather?
      a Russian submarine
      taking a dive
      looking for fun
      on the run from Crimea
      taking the interstate 95
      down to the Caribbean
      from Florida to Cuba
      those Ukrainian girls
      and their Nemiroff vodka
      will nuclear drive
      a Russian sailor insane
      that Hezbollah hashish
      in a hookah pipe
      will do much the same
      Hamas just wants to kick ass
      and the Ayatollah has my number
      he knows my alias . . .
      Crusader the Blasphemous
      and has put out a fatwa
      I may need to hitch a ride
      on a Russian sub
      . . . to Communist Cuba

      Like

  27. a citizen of Placebo was stoned today for saying,
    “suffering has medicinal value”
    one God: hand/claw, foot/hoof
    the worst evil: hardness of heart
    Placebo: the center of despair and resentment
    Placebo: the center of a thousand curves

    Like

    1. A citizen of Placebo was euthanized today

      (by order of Big Pharma)

      for saying that drug withdrawals purifies

      the soul and boosts the immune system.

      The PDA (Placebo Drug Authority) has now

      approved substance withdrawal syndrome

      as an alternative state of existence . . .

      “A placebo a day keeps the cold turkey away!”

      Like

    1. From a secure location deep underground,
      beneath the Pyramid of the Jaguar Priest,
      the Placebo Town Chamber of Commerce
      monitors the bowel movements of the
      collective consciousness. When the meter
      reader comes to check up on your output,
      don’t get caught with your pants down.
      That’s my only advice. Take it or leave it.

      Like

  28. the modern poet
    in need of fresh material
    war/sex/disease/the richness and complexity of Heaven
    the bottom of the bird cage, a constant foot race with heroes
    stern Puritans pointed at my rootlessness, my feet under the bed
    ——————–0——————-
    the temptation of suicide warmed many hearts
    the “sourcing” of our life cycle
    offspring returning
    to their source

    Like

    1. Le Signal De L’angoisse

      there’s a greasy pole
      in the dead centre
      of Placebo Town
      where failure is left
      to marinate in the mire
      the awful fate
      of low hanging fruit
      for not reaching any higher
      as complexity
      dissolves into simplicity
      like a clenched fist
      through the black hole
      at the heart of a galaxy
      drenched in milk and honey
      Gloria In Excelsis
      the minutia of negativity
      could never compare
      in power and majesty
      concealed … yet revealed
      throughout a creative eternity
      there’s a greasy pole
      in the dead centre
      of Placebo Town
      where failure is left
      to marinate in the mire

      Like

    1. there is just something
      mystical about Lolita
      her whole is greater
      than the sum of her parts
      some might call it magical
      a wormhole glorious
      to a higher consciousness
      within my space helmet
      set to full throttle
      perhaps it’s a sacred formula
      interstellar by nature
      Mars and Venus in unison
      an egg 🥚 and spoon 🥄 race
      drenched in semen 💦
      when penis meets vagina
      with her clitoris transfixed
      within a supernova implosion

      Like

  29. pOETRY wORKSHOP:
    >>>>>>>>>Mother of the Human Race<<<<<<<<<
    throw your mental pictures in the commode
    monsters from monsters, demoniacal birth
    Daddy had no mother
    ———0———
    most surfaces coated with monstrous residue
    romancing reproduction
    the marketplace
    recesses

    Like

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