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 
happy near my potato field
friends concerned with visibility
asked, “Don’t you want to be seen ?”
self-display
that’s for a better man
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LIBRARY: a warehouse for storing mental debris
representational or freshly made (?)
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rut-locked romance
ten finger potato-diggers
speak of women in town
with inflamed udders
speak of liquor
cigarettes
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(+) willing to have sex with ploughmen without land
hurtful or playful, each lover has his way
———0———0———-0———
when asked “why”
pleasure to exhaustion ?
no, no, it has to do with the mystical
>>>>>>convergence of mysticism and poetry<<<<<<
a way out…a way back
all those Michaels
under the soil
(+) beyond any reach of the senses (inebriated with decay)
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ATTAINING LITTLE BUT A GLIMPSE
be still and let the dark come upon you
ATTAINING LITTLE BUT A GLIMPSE
the potatoes humming in the soil
safe from the harsh moonlight
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in the casino car park
Lady Luck hit me up
for some small change
and then wandered off
looking all about
for a car left unlocked
that Club Placebo car park
is no place to be found
half-cocked after midnight
I still bear the scar
from a hot shot in the dark
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if one lives long enough
relatives and friends become landscapes
no matter how high, how low, all be family
endless requests for death go unanswered
———0———
PERHAPS, LIFE ON EARTH IS ETERNAL
———0———
asked to be honest,
“I am a weed seated outside the potato field”
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resemblance to self-image
Michael blends into Michael
indoor/outdoor physical playground
libido on a rapid pace, conquering sex
(+) dictionaries come and go but her geographical dictionary exploded
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it is easy to meet poets
who develop tuberculosis
over and over
no matter the number of deaths
they drop only to pick up where they left off
you just push them to the side and piss away
electroshock is expensive
drowning, cheap, effective
force the head under the surface
whisper in their ear, “loony bin romance”
(+) careful not to sniff behind that ear, that haunting moccasin bouquet
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people were lining up to have their head cut off
it was a deliberate expressive choice
no need to wait around for disease
the blade was quicker, more certain
(+) the creeping encroachment of time
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SWEET LADY GUILLOTINE
one clean cut
just below the chin
and no one will ever know
if you’re laughing or crying
as I roll up my sleeve
to receive her blessing
SWEET LADY GUILLOTINE
you’re so fast
you leave me speechless
and finely sliced
within a never ending dream
like taking off
the mask of consciousness
to a resting place
where resistance is useless
SWEET LADY GUILLOTINE
you leave me breathless
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WANTED: stimulus for the release of inner opium
——————————————————-
——————–YES———————————–
an intoxicant lover
to burst the containment
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less and less silk
more and more flesh
any and all points of entry
are given priority
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truck drivers speak of animalistic humanity
abominations that modesty and manners ignore
creatures that share their tuberculosis
that cough directly into the lungs
of infants and loved ones
that mingle spit by kiss
yes, you have blisters
flea bites and pus
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people with tiny lungs
floating in vats of fluid
they will learn to stand apart
a complete life before a mirror
———–0———-
———–0——————–
no time for oil portraits
a simple caricature or two
students at a young age taught
about tuberculosis and genital warts
they see the black suit and coat of burial
sex-stricken men who pay to have their way
peculiar tastes and the courage to swallow them
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an ambiguous detour
the shoulder of the road
athletic, crotchety, wavering
the new lad
removes trunks
one lap in the pool
$300 in his wet hand
———0———
———0———
…………………………(+) crotchety: annoyed
(RULE ONE) no exchange of words
perhaps my eyes spoke volumes
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my wife has a wheelbarrow
loaded with self-censorship
she juggles feelings of guilt
sometimes when I hold her close
she’s just a tiny child
a church mouse
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Olive Oyl is dead . . . apparently
some spinach powered semen
shot up her body
and out through the top of her head
the police are treating it as suspicious
and are on the lookout
for a randy sailor man
all dressed up in a sailor suit and cap
with a green stain on his pants
according to an eye witness . . .
“Olive Oyl was delicious.” ~ Brutus
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at first, I thought his words were possibly more valuable than his physical skills
actually, he was sick of hearing old geezers and their lunchmeat dialogue
(RULE ONE) no exchange of words
Mick Jagger devouring strawberries dipped in chocolate
fingernails on a blackboard, Baby
Jagger never consumes solids
he leaks his poop
“the boy squirts”
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>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> (RULE ONE) no exchange of words <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
truck drivers with dicks in hand, the circle of glory
a strong desire to repay favor with favor
jewels and precious stones leaking
a conscious need to prolong
an oasis of pleasure
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a connection between religious ecstasy and eroticism
pull over and park at the truck stop
return to testosterone
perhaps veiled
but freedom
from feminine wiles
escape in the company of others
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what can only be thought of as:
AN IDOL FOR THE PRIEST
AND A MUSE FOR THE POET
the world of watch and be watched
where men are brave enough
to internalize other men
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being a sour note in a well-orchestrated circle
Edgar Allan Poe and his macabre penis
pull back the foreskin and faint
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ALWAYS A DISCREPANCY: (paid for giggling maids, got motel apes)
uninterrupted sexual frolic for thirty seconds
coupling to sooth the agony of loneliness
the quirks and foibles
the lack of gender
———0———
———0———
you don’t like cooked liver
till you taste it raw
30 second
frolicking
your dick
in a hole
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perpetual rottenness
the time of decay prolonged
living death, eternal suffering
“Hell, let’s build a bonfire and toast”
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Charlie Watts:
his idealization of a resurrected body
a gritty bag of excrement, fly-blown
a strong persistence of sensation
Charlie, deep in debt
at the discount
outlet of relief
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Adele
hurting for cash money tried to squeeze indoors
begging the night porter for a bone and a loan
Adele punishing the flowers with her beauty
nitroglycerin caked around her hair cave
they say she’s a self-actualized woman
————————
————————
she walks funny
ready to explode
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perhaps, Adele thought I was Roy Orbison
the richness of my surroundings
no train tracks, no MLK Blvd.
all that weight loss
started in her skull
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Adele in her new skin
outside at night
hungry
are the stars safe ?
Adele nosing around
searching for a location
to take a never-ending nap
so well absorbed, to be inaudible
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any and all used bookstores, customers think of me as an employee
James Bond works under-the-table for a $5 hourly wage
photos with customers, free
embarrassing, being odd
children pull close
to their mother
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the eternal city, Placebo
everything is symmetrical
habitual meaning has no definition
———————————————
respect the rules, ignore the lesbians
———————————————
one must give extra dimension
to the bathing suit areas
of librarians
(+) common sense
(+) nonsense
bend the rules, exercise power
IF YOU ARE NOT A MALE, ACT LIKE ONE
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A LACK OF APPROPRIATE CONTEXT
also known as a lack of appropriate context
motivation, the white apes question motivation
why cough up Charlie Watts, Adele or Roy Orbison ?
human creative ability managed by majestic white apes
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THAT WHICH MOTIVES
a diet rich in pop culture fiber
can be hard to digest
consummation out of context
Charlie Watts and Roy Orbison
proved to be soluble in death
Adele has thus far eluded that test
as Jimi Hendrix awaits
in the Tower of Song
watching with regurgitated bated breath
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I noticed that Roy Orbison
had an eyebrow glued on
upside down
his jet-black hair
Warehouse Wigs $39
persuasion in the bedroom
so much more fruitful than strength
a financial reward almost guarantees success
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church scouts knock on the foreheads of Placebo citizens
small talk about semen for purposes other than procreation
MASTURBATION IS HOMOSEXUAL
a common tattoo on the heart
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the soft drink, Coca Cola defines the real thing
two steps:
penetration
male orgasm
Lesbian librarians remain silent, unable to acknowledge their sexuality
within the models and laws devised by male subjects, they have no appetite
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The Virgin Mother, “no man or beast to infect what lies deepest inside me”
endless millions who have soiled the beds at the Honeymoon Hotel
deceptive camouflage
verifiable realities
membranes
opened, pushed back
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Adele has eluded capture
a life full of interviews
less than average
penis size
>>>humanizing penis size<<<
(+) gaining multiple identities
(+) artistic death and decay
fingers pointing, gender ready
dismemberment/assimilation
“I was hungry, I ate myself”
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American History: from a tombstone (Civil War)
dismemberment/assimilation
“I was hungry, I ate myself”
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employed at the GYN clinic
unremitting drudgery
chaste and impotent
rural religion
at the expense of love
psycho-sexual yearnings
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the wife came over
pulled her pants and undies down
said, “Wine, dine, mate like a porcupine”
think what you like, I was strong and forceful
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problematic
reality being a divided subject
multiple sides deceived differently
what is written in the dark under the bed
Baby Bird, those words are naked for all to see
———0———
———0———
Roy Orbison singing about being a candy man
vanilla foam accumulating around his tiny mouth
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the memory of Charlie Watts
smiling on the album cover
of ‘Between the Buttons’
looking just like my oldest brother
if looks could kill … he was technicolor
the memory of Captain Stump Grinder
my peg legged father
with a fatal flaw
his weakness for a pretty woman
merrily singing along to Roy Orbison’s
‘Penny Arcade’
memories endlessly put on parade
some memories better left to the dead
some memories … best forgotten
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the wife in need of funds
gives her junction the once over
delivers Leviathan to my chamber
I can crawl inside the beast
work my way to a slick swallow
(+) silk clouds to the washboard (+)
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at the airport
they swiped my brain
searching for cerebral contraband
when I explained
that I’d just been reading
the comments of Multiple Michael
they let me go with a warning
and a promise
not to do it again
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upstairs, one can see the fringes
rakes and con men, scoundrels
the train tracks far away
(+) dinosaurs at night (+)
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I’m in mourning
grieving for Lolita
I was left with no choice
but to take her out the back
and shoot her 🎯
after she threatened to tell all
like a cheap blackmailer
when I refused to buy her
a Tesla electric car
and instead got her
an old fashioned gas guzzler ⛽
I am going to miss her 😢🕶️
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George Jones on the music box
singing about the final curtain call
————————————–
(+) THE FINAL CURTAIN CALL (+)
————————————–
“Michael has served me well
years and years and years
his welcome company
the dear boy
with no
idea”
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spawned in a cross-fire hurricane
behind a Long Island white picket fence
I now have a thing for big women
Less Is More
isn’t written in the text
a fat sacrifice was acceptable
even pleasurable
but soon proved fatal
for poor Abel
doing that crazy hand jive
under the breakfast table
whilst hiding from brother Cain
who can’t get no satisfaction
with an angry handful of Rock ‘n’ Roll
and a brain high on rebellion
spawned in a cross-fire hurricane
behind a white picket fence on Long Island
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A LEVEL OF INTELLIGENCE AND LINGUISTIC FLEXIBILITY
a level of intelligence and linguistic flexibility
quasi-biblical, every step marked
the other side right over there
people suddenly become
valued and loved
no one kicked
or punched
real life
in the
text
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Life: between the lines
Life: in the margins of the text
a Pillar of Fire on the evening news
Ivy of Love, creeping tightly around it
Ivy of Love, an inversion of sexual power
(+) privileged access
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repeated pleas for mercy
grant or deny
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
mental penetration
pleasure in penis, silly
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EXCLAMATION MARK:
a long stroke
on top of a full stop❗
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THAT IS WHAT I THOUGHT, WHAT I KNOW
my wife and I were hiking
we were deep in a huge forest
probably 10 miles
from another human
I reached out and touched my wife’s breast
she slapped my hand away, “someone might see”
THAT IS WHAT I THOUGHT, WHAT I KNOW
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CHECK MATE
to attract
and regulate
to monitor
and manipulate
to then nurture
and protect
the end product
that is their fate
to infiltrate
to hunt and collect
to penetrate
to impregnate
to conquer
and subjugate
just another part
of human nature
let’s just call it
CHECK MATE
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outdoor dad
free from family photos
(+) party jokes about ass chafe
large paintings with labial whorls
expensive fallopian tube acrylic jelly
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naming these things
Adam with his pledge
pretentious nonsense
horse shit on both sides
“all that I know, I am left unknowing”
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to sell books
to sell more books
I jaunt around the museum
with my pecker swinging
scrotum on full display
no curator but me
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the eternal flame on the stem of memory
through a hole in my upstairs
I spy non-academic Jesus
rendered vulnerable
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it is always there, this wanting you
everything bearing your radiance
clay-minded Michael
full of promise
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