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 
vigor replaced with decline
———0———
Honeymoon Hotel
a hint of happiness
a truckload of terror
vultures circling SIZE
skulls and crossbones
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Time To Pay The Bill
Lady Gaga’s twin brother
the Master Hamas Blaster
Ya-Ya Sinwar
has been evicted
from the Gaza Hotel
(where martyrdom
is compulsory)
and relocated
to downtown Sheol
what else did he expect
when it’s time to pay the bill
as paradise
comes at too high a price
for those who put their trust
in a false prophet of hate
so show some respect
no need to scream and shout
love is just a kiss away
when you get yer Ya-Ya’s out
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just another face on an ape
Michael remains ignorant
in olden times when a
monster was killed
the world would
COWER
shades of death
the underworld itself
COWER
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a vaginal heartbeat
from the shadows
beneath a frock
Hello Kitty
secretions
absorb and expand
countless eyes watch
heaven full of voyeurs
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every time I sit on a bench
it seems located in a Chapter of Revelation
——————————squirrels struggling with religious rhetoric
church father flashing mirrors in people’s faces
church father and his family in the shadows
—————————–squirrels struggling with religious rhetoric
naughty drawings of Adam and Eve
discipline, the art of selection
big knockers/low hangers
LOOK BUT DON’T TOUCH
THINK BUT DON’T SPEAK
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because of censorship
Melville wrote “Moby Dick”
sideways, and upside down
to this day it is not complete
MOBY DICK WAS NOAH INFLATED
Captain Ahab was the dark side
his maniacal quest continues
derail the future
spoil the fruit
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because of censorship
Moby Dick was white
but Mick Jagger insists
on painting Moby black
I know it’s only a racial stereotype
. . . inflated or not
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WHICH WOULD BE BIGGER ?
a white whale
a black whale
urinals and zippers and puppy dog tails
football players, dongs to the knee
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MOBY DICK WAS NOAH INFLATED
MOBY DICK WAS NOAH INFLATED
Ishmael was quick to report that the Ark was Noah inflated
MOBY DICK WAS NOAH INFLATED
MOBY DICK WAS NOAH INFLATED
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masculine and lampooned masculine
gender roles explicitly staged
horny fictional sailors
Ahab pissing blood
his wound raw
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not all sailors are sewn into sodomy
some rather nice ones flow free
talk of the place beyond the place
that’s where all men go
a sniff of a finger
and off to trot
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he was only known for one line:
NOT ALL SAILORS ARE SEWN INTO SODOMY
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Lou Reed put on
his sailor’s suit and cap
a thousand years ago
up on trip
and high on heroin
for a walk down the wild side
of Placebo Town
hand in hand with Andy Warhol
and David Bowie
as heroin took it’s heavy toll
yet Lou married Bettye
Sylvia and Laurie
Rock ‘n’ Roll is an animal
that devours them whole
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Laurie Anderson deserved a much better mate than Lou
she was that weed
that managed to survive in a sidewalk crack
that managed to survive in a parking lot of asphalt
I offered her an escape from Placebo
a clean towel to wipe away the grime
she said “no thanks” to a better life
little did she know that it was me
that supplied her with socks
at first from JC Penny
then Jagger quality space socks
Laurie had terrible memories
of the internment camp
life was difficult
after the Flood
like so many
she lost everything
NYC with its sharkskin suited poets
morning drugs/evening drugs
drugs for the clubs
she tried to live
like a man
but it was far too ugly
men favor the darkness
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from a Placebo Town
condo balcony
I heard Laurie Anderson
screaming
through a velvet underground
I tried turning up the volume
as the building was consumed
in a surrealistic blast
of New York Dolls
and the American faux punks
of a privileged middle class
all weaponized and ballistic
but the meaning was lost
when O Superman went electric
after reaching escape velocity
Laurie Anderson dreaming
just another esoteric
Placebo Town fallacy
Johnny Rotten said it all
(with all due respect)
“Oh we’re so pretty,
oh so pretty … vacant.”
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———0———
you become your own whore
paying yourself to stroke slower
———0———
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the last ape to leave home
collected the gravestones
and tossed them
into a ravine
perpetrators
age and decay
names and dates
urogenital outlines
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an outline of a penis
on a tombstone
no date of birth
or hint of exit
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flexing toughness
the ape suit silent and strong
the face of misconduct, terrifying
one ape to another, don’t be minimized
AUTOMATIC COMPLIANCE
“To hell with the Hoop, to the center of it”
time deadens everything
the museum of reality
walk in and release
your skeleton
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Well, Judas, he just winked
and said, “All right, I’ll leave you here,
but you’d better hurry up and choose
which of those paths you want,
before they all disappear.”
“I’m gonna start my pickin’ right now.”,
said Frankie Lee,
“Just tell me where you’ll be?”
Judas pointed down the road
and said, “Compliance”.
“Compliance?”, said Frankie Lee
with a voice as cold as ice.
“That’s right”, said Judas,
“Compliance, to a higher reality
one that will truly last.
Though you might call it Accordance,
. . . or even Paradise.”
“I don’t call it anything.”,
said Frankie Lee with a smile.
“All right”, said Judas Priest,
“I’ll see you after a while.”
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at church
they would force the native Americans into a side room
where they would be treated to slaps, punches, insults
told to pick Jesus up and guard him like an infant
to open their hearts to His love, glow his glow
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each museum equipped with a gas chamber
do more than visit a vault of history
“Take Death by the hand”
this nature of talk
makes librarians
nervous
heathenism in the library
savage and awful
improper and
dirty
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Christianize the white apes: Christianize Jesus
one may approach but not embrace
the males feared their manhood
would be taken away
more mausoleum
than scrotum
CRAZY SHIT
peel your dick like an apple
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coming ashore at your local library
words settle into retirement
———0———
THE SHORELESS OCEAN OF WORDS
——the shoreless ocean of words——
THE SHORELESS OCEAN OF WORDS
———0———
the winds carry clues
too light to rest
on a surface
in constant
motion
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bury them dead apes deep
they need not float again
———0———
the conceit which knowledge occasions
maintaining and reinforcing
open eyes: poetry/prose
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outside the real and practical
where men refuse to wear
children’s clothes
life has nothing to do with Andy Warhol
a bad wig is a poor choice, a weak start
celebrities are quick to display anal
they deliver rainbow fecal matter
with a hint of unicorn
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as an artist
told to prepare for the marketplace
the alphabet circling overhead, letters ascribed
aging and dying, tolls on the imagination
womenfolk, sleek and predatory
their insides spent and respent
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an artist imagining
her pussy as a vibrant
bristling paint brush
hovering over a bare canvas
the linseed oil dripping
from a finely sculpted opening
poised for an almighty splash
in the rush of imagination
“You really are a perverted old man!”
says Lolita with a giggle
as she gives it a wiggle
how much can a poor boy stand?
I’m sure Pablo Picasso
would’ve given it his all
with Lolita like a toy in his hand
till the urge primal ceases
leaving her immortalised
a masterpiece of dismantled pieces
never again to be reassembled
the winds carry her hues
too light to rest
on a surface
in constant
motion
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ill-gotten minutes
on top of the heap
victory
———0———
later in history
heightening through lowering
———0———
the duration of a single kiss
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never face-to-face with an actual female
living inside a machine
never free of a wall
a ceiling
——————– readers quickly ask, “what about the lesbian librarians?”
never been outside, no knowledge of a library
lesbians may exist, God bless them if they do
my library basement, just a broom closet
so fortunate to have electricity
24/7 Robert Louis Stevenson
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the dimensions of the Ark articulated
but never the definition
Noah feminized
an inflated
womb
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does Jesus love me
like Nicolas Cage
loved Cher in
“Moonstruck”
VORACIOUS LARVA
they were stuffed with love
he was leaking and she was absorbent
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whatever artistic means is necessary
apologize, hell…apologize all day
entitlement
first class Honeymoon Entitlement
lessons learned 2. legacies
to go against expectations
misconduct
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apocalyptic bedwetters
cozy up and let it flow
2. tales of women flying through the air
ointment coated patches of hair
3. magnified man with his knots of superstition
“FEAR THYSELF”
…………………………………….Placebo
bound hand and foot
hellish anticipation
man on man
attack
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++++++THE LOBBY OF THE HONEYMOON HOTEL++++++
posters of female genitalia turned into purses
begging for the gold seed/silver seed
life-coins from the nut sac
monetized and hungry
wide open purses
(+) translation of the bedroom into economic terms
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fear sleeps at the entrance and exit of sexual hatred
material wealth and fraudulent intercourse
squeezing the heart for lubricant
giving charity not payment
approved male behavior
showering fertility
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the mother of Jesus
her heart squeezed
her shriveled folds
a purse for coins
virginal birth
Mother Mary
could not escape
future transactions
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you find you cannot return to yourself
your home has changed ownership
you arrive at the door, a visitor
observers greet you
turn you away
Baby Bird
stronger eyes, better features
no place for sameness
gender tinkering
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INCURABLES
the incurables
me, myself, my whole life
a derangement of sorts, vulgar
puffed up party boy
deflated at home
self-mockery
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he pointed to his penis
beaming
signifying power
it can postpone death
unlock more life than given
father lives through his children
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the shackles of self-centeredness
the guilt and confusion
being a baby
and being
born
wanting the Earth
the sky complete with moon
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I prepare to rest my thoughts of Noah
who somehow concealed his ability to inflate
no totter in his step, lisp, or infantine prattle
Noah, who knew the art of the clutch
he was born stick shift in hand
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wanting to taste the soil
keep rocks in my underpants
all those faces in the sky, mom and dad
the erasure of otherness, ongoing they say
repressed anxiety, yes, FIGURATIVE CASTRATION
the long line to have my penis cut, Jesus on guard
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+++Reader’s Digest+++
Question: guilty pleasure of God
Answer: indulgence in personalities
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a speck of dust with arms and legs
Mick Jagger, please don’t judge us
by your edges, your curl
the sound of trumpets
Mick Jagger
labored
boy
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to hell with garments and decorations
naked with weapon in hand, to hell with attire
leaping through the measures, blood-stained and all
the sentiment of revenge
the sentiment of revenge
has an addictive quality of its own
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hardship and hazard
shit on domestic comforts
that which was cultivated before
replaced with predatory impulses
dimensional violence
repeated violations
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a civilization of apes and poets
Reader’s Digest religious morality
recurrent themes
of the damaged subconscious
littered with unwanted children
admit no apology
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+++HAVING GONE THUS FAR, INHUMAN TO STOP SHORT+++
hearing Eve call Adam, “Father”
in the lobby of the Honeymoon Hotel
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⚪ AT THE CHECKOUT ➡️
♾️ EVERYTHING 🚫
COMES TO A FULLSTOP ⚫
a lack of sugar daddy issues
turned the nameless wife
into a pillar of tasteless salt
in despair for a box of tissues
Lot had no choice
but to shake her out 🧂
there’s no going back
to the Honeymoon Hotel
when the passion runs out
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walking crooked with Adam and Eve
Eve scratching her primary itch
a public circular rub
THROUGH
the written word
the kitchen window
small apes play
adults labor
the fields
people on television
astound everyone
with what they
do and say
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pOETRY wORKSHOP:
personified Death
a figurative reaper
dung from the sky
sinners
colorless Death
trailed by shadows
endless cigarettes and bottled alcohol
French-cut undies on street walkers and whores
nothing mythological, Abaddon is real, a home-grown angel
Holocaust Toddlerhood, caught up in being a “Dictionary Dick”
a stylus penis and endless cuneiform tablets
private humor that he shared with God
begging forgiveness without words
pOETRY wORKSHOP:
+++(DEPICTIONS OF GOD AND HIS ENTOURAGE)+++
God’s deployment of monsters
God’s own monstrosity
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most nights outside
I can hear the wings
smell the uncultured
hungry zippers from above
hungry zippers from below
sometimes, children scoured
the Hebrew Novel limited in size
nouns and verbs from a lowly origin
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outsiders masturbate
staggering as it may be
masturbating attention
away from other details
gender expressions in the shower
Judeo-Christian gender expressions
(+) the bathroom: a grown-up version of a playground
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hair around the mouth
or a bald mouth
prize-winning
open mouth
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sexual scaredy-cats
the weight of another man
pushing a bayonet into you
the urge to defecate
exquisite pleasure
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rival lover winning
no matter how far away you stare
rival lover winning, your poetic voice weak
mutual admiration doesn’t carry the punch
the secondary position, obscure and tortuous
(+) Baby Bird lost in some kind of peace passion
at the adult table with mommy handfeeding him
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perhaps, every child has an Assyrian bull in their childhood
godheads of inspiration, a hoof puberty
hoofs behind, hoofs before
the penis need not
be transitory
+++THE PENIS NEED NOT BE TRANSITORY+++
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adolescent eroticism
seemingly innocent nudity
a 1000 butterfly kisses, petting
to pacify him, she helped stroke
shocked by the volume of his seed
each sperm with a tiny voice, desperate
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essential randomness
images both linguistic and imagistic
darkness nervous, her flashlight on bright
would it somehow reveal my manhood incomplete?
“First touch my emotions, then finger my imagination”
———0———
———0———
REPOSITORY POETRY
excess in one single person
peopled poet, this/that Michael
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overcome your limitations
dead baby got no choice
conclude the conversation
dead baby got no voice
barbaric husband interrogating her sex
make her backwall ache, the pee a little sting
a sustained motion of realization, unable to rise above
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after a careful examination
of my recent brain scan
the doctor exclaimed . . .
“You have an oxycodone tablet
lodged in your brain!
How on Earth did that get there?”
I didn’t dare suggest
intravenous injection
best leave him guessing
“The good news, it isn’t a tumour,
so if you stop feeding the thing
it’ll probably stop growing. But
there’s plenty of empty space in
there … so, here’s hoping.”
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———–THE DARK IN DARKNESS WAS NERVOUS——————-
small talk from the time of Moses
the weather and political sycophants
“CONFESS SIN AND RAKE IN THE MONEY”
God was not exhausted
mercies were available
———————————–the apes are wrapped in a cloud
———————————–that prayers cannot pierce
they have their place in life
a hardness of heart
a work to do
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