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 
a catastrophe that will sweep away civilization
and restore all that was pre-Adam
sometimes people from Paris visit Placebo Town
and piss in the corners of the infamous labor-ghetto
thousands and thousands of atrocities in golden layers
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I flew into London
Heathrow Airport was full
of oil rich Arabs
going duty-free shopping
to Harvey Nichols and Harrods
I took the train across to Paris
The place was packed
with refugees
begging for coins
and American tourists
eating croissants
I then caught the bus
to Barcelona
where there was
a protest going on
to free Catalonia
I almost got trampled to death
standing on a street corner
outside la Sagrada Família
The Spanish police had me
arrested and tortured
just for knowing Che Guevara
I thought to myself
what the world needs now
is one mean mother of a virus
So I went back to Wuhan
became a virologist
and started working on
that particular problem
The planet will thank me later
for my ultimate solution
After humanity has long gone
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all poets became bacteriologists
readers perished
but others
took their
place
the library pillaged
readers suffered sore
the function of deities
a true source of question
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When Julius Caesar
the first Emperor
ever born by caesarean
came to power
the Library of Placebo Town
was burnt down to the ground
History is written by the victor
So history had to be
rewritten all over again
and the library built anew
The head librarian
some barbarian woman
a totally naive ingénue
cowers under the towering phallus
of a Julius Caesar statue
Now his face is on every coin
On every street corner
there’s a fully armed centurion
listening to what you say
watching what you do
There’s nothing these Romans
enjoy more than a crucifixion
So keep your ear to the ground
and your nose to the grindstone
It’s hard to get away with anything
these days in old Placebo Town
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to people the planet after the catastrophe
who will pick and choose ?
no need for known errors
no moldy Bible belts
or worn out shoes
Elizabeth Taylor
Neanderthals
——–
the gangsters and gunmen of Placebo Town
wear green jackets stolen from a golf resort
just like bankers and fancy capitalists
they never stand in line
or pay income tax
poets claim to be the safety-valve
of a world crowded with criminal flatulence
Molecular Physics with a hint of blue cheese
logs dropping from a cylindrical ring
turds from an anal doughnut
poetry at its best
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Defecation
with affection
The romance novels
of Karl Marx
and Barbara Cartland
Thirteen billion years plus
and here humanity grovels
and shovels up
a perverse culture
of assorted detritus
fit for the petri dish
of a plastic Chinese virus
Survival of the fittest?
The Universe deserves
more than this
Time for an electric
Kool-Aid acid test
with a spiritual twist
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photos of your parents
in a widely circulated Honeymoon magazine
the focus on the opening of her apparatus
no comments on the excruciating wait
only the tightness of the tube
and the look on her face
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modern man
afraid to poke
a snake with a stick
movie stars with a superior
winding stair of their very own
no hands share their ladder to the sky
modern man with his substantial joy
the new bride stretched out wet
perhaps many times before
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checked into the Honeymoon Hotel
a single woman, a solitary figure
in a hotbed coated with sex
suggestions written
on bathroom walls
hook up at the lobby bar
easy money from lonely grooms
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excursions
in the midst of life
a path of diabolism
a path of perversity
a circle around Satan
with citizens eating flesh
punch bowls of fresh blood
picture-makers holding hands
with imagination and intellect
(@) the alarm clock signals the addiction to the senses
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excursions (mythological city buses)
in the midst of life ( the day you told the workshop about the night your
pet dog died and all the fleas jumped over to your legs
and then you got a terrible infection and after a true
struggle both legs waved bye-bye )
life at waist level: a path of diabolism
life at waist level: a path of perversity
a circle around Satan twice
inner Placebo Town
24 hour butchers
the sounds
the smells
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The Universe
has no big enough fix
for the transdescendant junkie
from outer space
A performance dependent
on his inner demons
doing party tricks
upon waves of stolen gravity
The lower threshold
of a fevered reality
with a spoonful of diamonds
thrown into the mix
for the transdescendant junkie
An insatiable hunger
for stranger danger
with a taste of sweet chaos
But the addiction is terminal
and comes at a great cost
A joyous eternity
forever lost
in a wormhole bent
Such a waste
since the price has been paid
for the supernatural withdrawal
of a transdescendant junkie
The higher reality paradox
of Kingdom opposites
The straight and narrow
leads to a heavenly
multidimensional infinity
beyond the total sum
An arrow straight and true
through to the event horizon
of Kingdom Come
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when the police stopped me and asked what I was doing
I replied, “I’m doing party tricks upon waves of stolen gravity”
true to the speed limit on I-95 when Neil Young took over the FM radio
Neil Young was the real deal—–meth people loved his old stuff
hours and hours of Neil and then suddenly, THE DOORS
15 minutes of Jim and hands were cupping genitals
the scent of naked breasts and various butt cracks
Yes, doing party tricks upon waves of stolen gravity
truckers got excited as they passed by
were we going straight through
to the event horizon ?
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“You’ve gotta dance
like there’s nobody watching,
love like you’ll never be hurt,
sing like there’s nobody listening,
and live like it’s heaven on earth.”
~ William W. Purkey
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stories told at the Pinky Toe Salon
horny girls that circulate
the Honeymoon Hotel
lobby at night
a lifetime
in a hour
when Baby wants it rough
chatter free question free consent
no birth control, bareback all the way
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Where do you put the ashtray?
The last function held
at the Honeymoon Hotel
was a state funeral
for Mr. & Mrs. Millennial
Their future having succumbed
to a contagious virus
Pink Floyd played
‘Have a Cigar’
It was like paradise for those
old hippies in the audience
All of Placebo Town then
held a minute’s silence
Tears fell like rain
when Elton John began to sing
‘Candle in the Wind’
And then the cremation
The induction of Frank Zappa
into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame
was cancelled out of respect
for the musically lame . . . Plus
they had to make room
for Marc Bolan and T. Rex
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since the price has been paid
the supernatural here and now
for those who wait, the line grows
the long-sought remains the long-sought
realistic human experience shut into brief lives
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MY LAST TRANSPORT
BY MARC BOLAN
the more absolute the need
the more predictable the outcome
I refused to sign the contract
and mathematically
my clock stopped
no one asked
a single question
no one wanted to know
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Doing a James Dean
Marc Bolan was transported
instantly
into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame 🎸
by taking a short cut
through a tree🌲
To some it was a great relief
No need to be twenty seven
It’s never too late for Mick & Keith
to crash that Rock ‘n’ Roll heaven🔥🚗
Before any mass extinction event
dinosaurs are given an easy option:
“Stop releasing your lame
septuagenarian recordings
or we’ll burn your house down!”
By Order of the Honourable
Mayor of Placebo Town ♈
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Placebo Town
is famous for its river of deceit
they say that one can hear Abel’s blood
cry out to the Lord from the water’s edge
no one questions the Republican Party’s willingness
to cooperate in carrying out the sinister plans of Satan
Mr. President makes no effort to conceal his horns and tail
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A small compilation of songs banned
from the playlist of Placebo Radio 📻
You don’t have to take this crap
You don’t have to sit back and relax
I know we’ve always been taught to rely
Upon those in authority
But you never know until you try
How things just might be
Are you gonna try to make this work
Or spend your days down in the dirt
You see things can change
Yes an’ walls came a-tumbling down
Lights go out
Walls come tumbling down
The competition is a colour TV
We’re on “still pause”
with the video machine
That keep you slave to the H. P.
Until the unity is threatened by
Those who have and who have not
Those who are with
and those who are without
And dangle jobs like a donkey’s carrot
Are you gonna get to realize
The class war’s real, not mythologized
And like Jericho
Yes, the walls came a-tumbling down
Governments crack and systems fall
‘Cause unity is powerful
Lights go out
Walls come tumbling
You’ll be too weak to fight it
Oh, less united
Oh, will you deny it?
Are you gonna be threatened by
The public enemy is Number 10
Those who play the power game
They take the profits, you take the blame
When they tell you there’s no rise in pay
Are you gonna try to make this work
Or spend your days down in the dirt
You see things can change
Walls came a-tumbling down
Governments crack and systems fall
‘Cause unity is powerful
Lights go out
Walls come tumbling down
~ The Style Council
One by one
I’m seein’ them fall
Some just don’t show up at all
I’m just here to fight the fire
Oh, a man ain’t a man
unless he has desire
And the walls come down
~ Kings of Leon
Well they blew the horns
And the walls came down
They’d all been warned
And the walls came down
They stood there laughing
They’re not laughing anymore
The walls came down
Sanctuary fades,
congregation splits
Nightly military raids,
the congregation splits
It’s a song of assassins,
ringin’ in your ears
We got terrorists thinking,
playing on fears
Well they blew the horns
And the walls came down
They’d all been warned
But the walls came down
I don’t think
there are any Russians
And there ain’t no Yanks
Just corporate criminals
Playin’ with tanks
~ The Call
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the true criminality of our times
precise manipulation of word and image
OTC sanity pills nightly for sleep
agents monitor television
they monitor your dreams
some say that they watch everything
the things you say and the things you do
come Judgment Day, all will be on display
advertising people looking for giant dongs
(+) must be in the 2 Coca-Cola cans range
the sort of thing that leaves a woman
uninhabitable
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BOSCH-LIKE POOL PARTY ON A SATURDAY NIGHT
crowds of warped people smoking adjectives in a glass pipe
celebrated sons and daughters who hold their parents upside down
I saw Allen Ginsberg naked and he had a daddy dong
an old white hotdog clearly yanked too many times
Allen was reciting a poem
about a trainload of hard-hearted sinners
who were erasing the word “love” from valentines
even the most enterprising of devils
fear the slavery of love
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I once went
to a pool party
at the condo residence
of Hieronymus Bosch
The decor
was Netherlandish
as Hieronymus himself
was quite outlandish
and totally bat shit crazy
All the guests were
nuns dressed as priests
and priests dressed
as Playboy bunnies
When they saw
I was wanted by the law
they tried to have me
sacrificed to their god
Placebo the Horned Beast
If you ever go
to Hieronymus Bosch’s
Dutch style condo
for a pool party
and to snort some blow
I’ll wish you a lot of luck
I’d rather hit the road
and go drive a truck
🎶 But it’s alright now
I learnt my lesson well
If you can’t please
Hieronymus Bosch
doesn’t mean
ya gonna go to hell 🎶
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my favorite wall hanging in Starbucks:
“the more heinous the wickedness
the closer the day of redemption”
I read that sign and I’m afraid to go outside
to live in a world where worse is better
—-Paradoxical Placebo Town—-
where beautiful flowers
raise above greed and blasphemy
and bloom reflections from heaven
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My old russki friend,
Grigori Rasputin, had that
exact same wall hanging
in his Volkswagen Kombi Van.
He’d pick up hitch-hikers in it,
on their way out of Placebo Town.
He’d get ’em high as a kite, tell ’em
he’s the Lord’s annointed prophet,
and that by having crazy kinky sex
they’d help spread some holy grace.
I’m not too sure if his theology was
all that sound, but he was a highly
respected cleric, my old russki
friend, Grigori . . .
The Mad Monk of Placebo Town
(No relative of Vladimir Putin).
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Yes, Rasputin certainly did think by being kinky, this would bring closer the day of redemption.
There was some 17th Century Russian sect that believed that and Rasputin followed in their footsteps.
The Russian sect were probably inspired by the Sabbateans (the followers of a 17th Century false Jewish Messiah Sabbatai Zevi who was at the height of his power in the year 1666) who taught much the same thing.
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Indeed Chris. Unholy grace wasn’t
the only thing he was spreading.
With numerous cases of horrendous
itching, those poor and sore souls
picked up by Grigori hitch-hiking,
were found to be infected with a
virulent penicillin resistant STD,
the Placebo-Amigo Virus. The only
known cure is to drink copious
amounts of Starbucks coffee. Just so happens, Rasputin is the local Placebo Town franchisee ☕ ☕ ☕
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copulate with hitchhikers when and where they please
a commitment to sex , near total ignorance
of anything outside genital concern
outside a circus performance
an act that likes
to announce itself
gratified at the end
dim or bright according
to the intensity of passion
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the train is overdue
people hiding indoors
suicide circling the town
the rails paining the ground
between right and wrong
the distinctions
are breaking
down
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Ring them bells, ye heathen
From the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries
’Cross the valleys and streams
For they’re deep and they’re wide
And the world’s on its side
And time is running backwards
And so is the bride
Ring them bells St. Peter
Where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand
So the people will know
Oh it’s rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down
Upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells Sweet Martha
For the poor man’s son
Ring them bells
so the world will know
That God is one
Oh the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled
With lost sheep
Ring them bells
for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells
for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many
when the game is through
Ring them bells,
for the time that flies
For the child that cries
When innocence dies
Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room
Ring them from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom
Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they’re breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong
~ Bob Dylan
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a heavy foghorn reminiscent of Dylan
Placebo Town famous for vipers
rich or poor wanting more
consistent anticipation
Bible mythology
parachuting
late at night
no one safe
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seeds sown
made the soil uneasy
and unable to rest at night
with a fear of being trampled
seeds forced to sprout deviations
the possibility of a reasonable crop
outside the superstition of the farmers
the dead rows of modern America
plowed under after having lost faith
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(ACCOUTREMENTS OF THE GENTILE)
guarded over by the powers of darkness
a warehouse of words
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This used to be a place
where a man
could find some work
Stitch together
Space Cotton socks
or a foundry job at worst
I can hear the noises coming
from Truck Stop Placebo
on the dirty town outskirts
It’s where all those
mother truckers go
deep into the night
The roads are filled with kids
hitting up after dark
Running from their fathers
who are just sitting at the bar
keeping their guilt well hid
Eat, sleep, work, drink,
that’s all they ever did
Oh, they oughta be
shutting down this town
Burning it to the ground
Nothing pure here to be found
I started raising hell
before I came of age
Running from my past
with clenched fists of rage
And I fought my way through
every other day,
never looking back
And everything I knew
was back there on those streets
Every lesson learned
kept me on my feet
But I can’t help thinking
of the ones I left behind
Their hearts all torn out
They shoulda quit this dump
from the very start
Herded all together
From many different lands
The old folks stand around
talking about the weather
and forever cursing
this God damn town
Oh, they oughta be
shutting down this town
Burning it to the ground
Nothing pure here to be found
~Troy Cassar-Daley/Foghorn Leghorn
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I’ve been scared in the past
you’ve been scared in the past
now we carry sharp sticks
and act angry and aggressive
how are we to behave
when the scroll of destiny
is opened and the contents disclosed ?
public school taught us
that life is a haphazard sequence
of unrelated events
but having lived life
we know it
as a divinely decreed ordering
of that which must take place
there are those straining
to look behind themselves
to rehash
the sacrifices and losses
the river of grey thoughts
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Another song banned from
being played on Radio Placebo ;
I wasn’t doin’ nothin’,
anyway
Just what is it
that I’m supposed
to have done?
With bloodshot eyes
and bleedin’ hands
I put my new suit
in the cleaners again
I took the first bus,
I didn’t look back
Lungs long blowin’
like a smokestack
Hair fallin’ out
as the wind blows through it
My horse ran second,
just like I knew it would
Overflowin’ ashtray, yeah
Oh yeah
Then the officer said
Better get a lawyer, son
You better get a real good one
Get yourself a suit and tie
And get your hair cut way up high
Get yourself a lawyer, son
You’re gonna need a real good one
I got legs, I can walk
All the way down the dirt track
I fell down, I got up
I turned around
and then I walked back
I walked to the sea
I stood there and looked for a sign
I took time, but it came
I added up and took what was mine
from that shitty dump
called Placebo Town
Don’t drop the soap
Don’t smoke no dope
Get yourself a lawyer, son
You’re gonna need a good one
to get you outta this one
~ The Cruel Sea
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We have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, and He is the propitiation for our sins.
-Saint John the beloved disciple, Apostle and Evangelist
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All the lawyers
in town Placebo
are shysters
and ambulance chasers
as far as I know
But now I have
a wonderful councillor
who defends me
pro bono
An excellent lawyer
and a soul saver
So let his love flow
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to some, Placebo Town is a fantastic nowhere
if one wants to get naked
GET NAKED
a consummating thrust or two
stick it in, stick it in good
feeling a tad bit drained
misread your future
with a stimulant
permit yourself to be sucked
into the cloaca of meth
REPHALLICIZE YOURSELF
(@) a rarefied hybrid of meth
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In the hall
of the Mountain King
little blue pills
are greedily being taken
by Dwarfs and Elves alike
It helps kill the time
Even Gandalf’s wizard staff
is being stirred up and shaken
But their over stimulation
has awoken the Balrog
In Middle-Earth thats a crime
if I’m not mistaken
According to Lord Elrond
Elves should only fornicate
with their own kind
so as not to disturb the demon
who dwells deep under
the blood stained ground
of Placebo Town
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there is no curbside debit card pick-up in Placebo Town
monsters walk the streets
self-blinded husbands
sometimes I hold
their hands
at workshop
basically saying
“it’ll be okay, don’t fret”
somehow I’ve joined the ranks
of the abandoned babies of Placebo
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Poetry bleeds
from the pores
of the lone orphan
in lock down Placebo Town
A love child gagged and bound
Seething hatred all around
With the physical blows
the spiritual soon follows
At Placebo Paradise
that amusement park
on the town’s outskirts
it’s easy to flow freely
It’s not hard to be nice
At the truck stop
across the road
there’s a whole load
of poetic vice
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morning, noon, and night
across the road
poetic vice
guarded by violence and death
the powers of man are limited
much the same as carnival rides
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the fall from Eden
the fall into gender
dead people turned
away from Judgment Day
———share the madness
dream-coated revelations in a psychodrama
it is never a baby but rather a coal from down below
so difficult to extinguish, they call it “murder”
the fall from Eden, the leap into gender
Satan walking around with a swollen head
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As a consequence
the ground itself
was cursed
Shake, rattle, and rolling
Sowing and reaping
Eve forever weeping
The Russian Roulette
of child birth
From psychedelic Eden
to sweat, tears, and bleeding
The wages of rebellion
A whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on
Yet I can still hear
that angelic singing
through a tear in the curtain
I can still commune
with the heavenly King
What was
will be again
Even better
since Adam and Eve
would’ve leant
a valuable lesson
That God is Love
and Love is everything
Knowledge without Love
is a mouse squeaking
Love without truth
is emotional
and fleeting
Alway the choice
To serve a placebo usurper
a slave trader
all mean and nasty
Or the one true King
freely and lovingly
like a daughter and a son
Man made religion
is a stifling prison
A straight jacket
for the dead and the dying
Doctrines of the extreme
convulsing
like snakes
in a boiling cauldron
Love flowing
within from above
is the key
to true liberation
The breath of life
reviving
For a true new start
you need only
invite Jesus into your heart
His burden is light
Light years from those bitter tears
since the battle
has already been won
No more the fight or flight
in the darkness
of an endless night
With the Prince of Peace
I am more than victorious
In Christ Jesus
I am covered with grace
A part payment in this world
The big instalment
is in the next one
There is a Kingdom to come
where the slow ones now
will later be fast
To run like some son of a gun
and fly like a bird on the wing
The Law of Love is freedom
All puffed up pride put aside
Fallen angels in a chain gang
on a downhill slide
Thanks Adam and Eve
for this life on the wild side
with absolutely no excuse
for boredom
Even in a pandemic lock down
The Kingdom
is taken by violence
Meekness is no ticket to ride
for the first ones now
in their front row seats
will later be last
There’s no first prize
for just sitting in the audience
Sowing and reaping
Action and consequence
Thank goodness for Jesus
Repentance and forgiveness
Adam and Eve
your ship has come in
A new Eden is waiting
Riding high with the King
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………………David,
you put all the puzzle pieces together !!!
Popeye would say, “them sure are some pretty words”
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Memphis . . .
the home of the Blues
B.B. King singing
The Thrill Has Gone
Elvis and his Blue Suede Shoes
Placebo Town . . .
the home of Disco
and the birthplace of Punk
Johnny Rotten
… the anti-hero
Sid Vicious overdoing
on the junk
One by one
the Bee Gees dying
The Spiritual . . .
birthplace of Surrealism
Salvador Dali
a true visionary
of Christendom
Who’s to say what is
and what is not?
What is truly real?
From the fullness of the heart
words flowing
A compulsion revealing
Thoughts given birth
in a Universe
constantly changing
A spiral spinning
The hand of Creation
… from a marked deck
forever dealing
“The pendulum of the mind
oscillates between sense
and nonsense, not between
right and wrong.”
~ Carl Jung
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seems a surplus of scouts have returned
a winged creature reconnaissance
pioneers human and otherwise
as overwhelming as
it is disturbing
pills for social instability
scouts warning of changes
in values and attitudes and behavior
(+) bearers of ill tidings neck deep in the ritual bath
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The last boy scout
has been left to perish
on a dying planet Earth
Major Tom was to lead
the mass evacuation
till he succumbed
to the Placebo Zero Virus
Even his addiction
to bad medicine
couldn’t save him
His last request
to be buried in space
is now out of the question
… Sorry Major Tom
On this expedition
room only for the living
Captain Morpheus
(or “Toxic Tiberius” as we
his loyal intrepid crew
fondly refer to him)
took over command
of the Starship U.S.S. Matrix
and our Mission Desperado
to “Make Humanity Great Again.”
Tiberius Morpheus the Fearless
was the all conquering hero
knee deep in the enemy’s gore
of that seemingly endless
Placebo Town War
But the radiation unleashed
in that bloody campaign
has made the planet
forever uninhabitable
He’s no boy scout
but he knows how to win a fight
Yet . . . what price victory?
Was Morpheus to blame
in that war to end all wars?
Will he now be the one
to save us?
The saviour of Humanity?
God help us all!
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a surplus of scouts some warm others not so much
small talk of the outward substance of things
spirits of nature mysteries of the soul
adolescent painkillers nut grippers
handjobs outside marriage
dead parents troubled
no words only looks
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scouts spoke of the promised land
where resentment
was unknown
——————–asexual outdoors
cankers of resentment in plain view
cankers grasped by the throat
dead before they drop
——————–asexual outdoors
scouts spoke of the promised land
where resentment
was unknown
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Major Tom once offered me his
boy scout merit badge for basketry,
in exchange for one jagged little pill,
in lieu of real money. I told him his
credit was good, so he could keep
his merit badge. The Major then told
me that it was also for wood carving
and sodomy, and only awarded to
those of outstanding proficiency.
I now keep Major Tom’s merit badge
in a safety deposit box at a bank
in Dallas, Texas. Along with a
Campbell’s Soup can signed by Andy
Warhol, James Dean’s steering wheel,
and a piece of John F. Kennedy’s skull.
I’ve successfully extracted the DNA
from all four artefacts and the cloning
process is coming along splendidly,
with some very promising results.
I’m now expecting to be receiving
that elusive merit badge for science.
The Nobel Prize on my mantelpiece
doesn’t really suffice.
Fingers crossed 🤞
I’m sure the world is ready for a
gay albino J.F.K., who likes to rebel
without a pause, and be used as a
human ashtray by smoking hot aliens
in outer space.
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this time of year the scouts report that the foliage is dropping
the knees of America are once again exposed
patellas advertising hunger and thirst
meat eaters and alcohol fiends
both knees finding it difficult
to bend for the Lord
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“Moloch is well pleased 👹
Keep up the good work! 👍
You humans are all in this together
(just don’t go asking what THIS is).
Let’s all make Placebo Town great
again. Greater than it’s ever been 💵
Our sweet pseudo home on the
firing range. Even better than that
disappearing Garden of Eden.
Climate warming is fake news.
Plus, I’ve got air-conditioning.
All the knowledge of good and evil
is here for your dining pleasure.
So, please cast your vote ☑️
for my candidate 1️⃣
May I suggest another big slice 🍕
from the bête noire de la wild side?
Chin Chin! 🥂”
~ Proud Boy Moloch
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poets with half empty glasses
the futility of daily exertions
putting a thousand words
on the chopping block
senior “tamed sex”
autobiographical
tenfold sadness
(@) the hand that guides thee
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“You stiff-necked people,
uncircumcised in heart and
ears, you are forever opposing
the Holy Spirit, just as your
ancestors used to do. Which of
the prophets did your ancestors
not persecute? They killed those
who foretold the coming of the
Righteous One, and now you have
become hisbetrayers and murderers.
You are the ones that received the
law as ordained by angels, and
yet you have not kept it.”
~ Stephen, the Disciple,
speaking to the Sanhedrin
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outside the law ordained by angels
the scouts reported that at night
huge pillows would float down
and they experienced a sleep
that only opium-heads
would know
many scouts knew of the amulet
bearing the Name of God
they feared it would go
BERSERK
the gloomy cavern of religion
the dark tunnel of marriage
social mouthpieces
one apology after
another
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The social mouthpiece
is a slogan on a t-shirt
worn by aimless zombies.
The t-shirt mouthpiece
makes inaudible noises
as the zombie stands mute
and motionless.
Until … it’s feeding time.
They are attracted to the
sound of the human voice,
and they’ll never stop
till they hunt you down.
When it comes to a choice
between flight or fight,
I suggest you run.
There’s no winning
a debate in Placebo Town.
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no losers and no winners
unfamiliar with the ways
of Placebo Town
the inadequacy
of language
to explain all things
detrimental honeymoon tunes
country music, an amniotic fluid enema
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rapid rounds of love
without a scientific explanation
with seemingly unbreakable alibis
from less and less likely suspects
midnight black sunglasses
intellectual in nature
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(untapped regions of the human brain)
Placebo Town
one can hear the bleating of devils
insane systems of education
pointing students
to stupidity
down at the pool hall
tobacco chewers are combining Hebrew letters
and equating them with numbers
communion with angels
as a daily goal
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the school bus was full of superficial observers
anaesthetized at an early age
to avoid adulthood chaos
no computers
or Tim Leary
———————one can purchase books
about people aware of their programming
everything desirable can be attainable
ask that famous Beatle, Paul
softly sit back and watch
his neck grow old
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the evening news are focusing on the excess skin
under the chin of Paul, the famous Beatle
some say that he only steps
into the real world
occasionally
others
say that he is dead
that many have paraded
in his persona, fabulous Paul
the difficulties of restoration
the struggle of sameness within
(@) all dreams end horizontally
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Sherlock Holmes in the bathroom with the grips
perhaps the strict rules and unyielding order
the fear that words might yield their skins
language naked and raw
Placebo Town proud
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ONE DAY THE LIBRARIAN WAS CRYING
words had liberated her to a point
but ultimately they failed to transcend
the confines of bone and flesh
outer reality was there
but she wanted more
more than imagination
more than dreams
she wanted the entertainment
located up above the clouds
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Supreme Amazon
the Librarian
a head hunting barbarian
rides the ambiotic wave
of a chaotic universe
in the fetal position
Ever craving the wild feral
For any mere mortal
certainly a fatal situation
with the release
of her inner seamonster
known as the Kraken
Many a sailor at sea has been
decimated and devoured by her
Dewey decimal system
Yet when it comes to
the Placebo Town Librarian
I have only compassion
She can do me no harm
in my yellow submarine
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the real citizens of Placebo Town
are often rolled around
with rocks and stones
intruders observe
and question why
the no name zone
is so difficult to locate
mirror-images take turns
pulling out but pulling out late
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Is it ever too late to pull out
of a Placebo Town imbroglio?
In a flood of preejaculate
and amniotic fluid
mirror-images come and go
In the Court Supremo
of the Immaculate Concept
the wash up is an earthquake
that shakes the whole tribe up
Why? .. God only knows!
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false testimony from a violated bunghole
most of the men had wives at home
irregular flaps with yak hair
the need to reproduce
just another instinct
———laughing and crying
———family machines taken off the assembly line
———girl parts willing to accept embarrassing misunderstandings
engulfed in an endless NOW
every 5 seconds you ask yourself
“was that a coincidence ?”
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machine-made androids
learn to smoke cigarettes
and adopt homeless pets
Hollywood films of androids kissing
and whispering whimsical nonsense
are in demand on Netflix
dream and reality
coexist and seem inseparable
androids with empty spoons
soft impotent forks
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“Nothing happens by coincidence.”
~William S. Burroughs
A suspicious virus
A locked down workforce
pre-programmed
impotent and helpless
Idle hands on the gear shift
of a delusional dominion
this Kingdom of the Machine
Netflix with an added taste
of fantasy and violence
There is no coincidence
Mankind’s crazy past is at last
fully loaded with consequence
and is approaching
all fast and furious
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written on the tombstone of Karma 2020:
Mankind’s crazy past is at last
fully loaded with consequence
and is approaching
all fast and furious
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Written on the Placebo Town Wall
of Sporting Fame;
“All hail our heroic skin pullers,
constantly manipulating their
puppet-like dongs in the Placebo
Town Marionette Colosseum.
Rectal cobblers the whole lot of them!”
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rectal cobblers the whole lot of them
little magazines in their pockets
naughty mathematical nudes
behavior of the males
at the truck stop
intellectually inferior to the top notch poets
constantly manipulating their puppet-like dongs
as if the world is a marionette theater for skin pullers
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a pillow with the firmness
of a Grimm fairy tale
bird’s beak prose
skinny rat lips
scrawny butt cheeks
that want to be nursed
but not in the ordinary sense
scrawny butt cheeks
that wish to be suckled
lovers constantly stealing
criminal lovemaking
a mental attachment
to mother
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“little hollows that her fingers had worn”
she said that masturbation was a byproduct of youth
the lips were closed and there was an element of mystery
——————————————
——————————————
from the ledger of the Honeymoon Hotel:
marriage ignites the willingness
to wring the neck
of the other
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she wore red socks
and everyone took notice
———intense research in the laundry room
nothing innocent about clean sheets
more ways than one
victor and victim
can conceal their
industry
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My stylist
is a homeless person
who sleeps on a park bench
A stranger to the laundry
who enjoys his own company
but I don’t mind the putrid stench
of his Britney Spears bottled scent
In this lock down Covid situation
a good stylist is hard to get
His name is Anton
I think he’s French
or possibly Belgian
It’s hard to tell
He don’t say much
My stylist
is a homeless person
and I always buy him lunch
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a stylist with the smell of a sad sailor
willy-nilly with the chicks
being pushed away
the measure wrong
but the paper money
stands up and loudly sings
“love me and let me go home”
———
———
citizens with a crust
seem to walk or hitch
parents
ignorant of the protoplasm
being tossed about by children
soft-slipping healthy protoplasm
sensations ignited rather than thoughts
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robots are not afraid to wake up in the dark
it is so easy to be taken up again and again
death being stubbornly repetitive
the least usable parts
of Beatle tunes
on a loop
POETRY WORKSHOP TOPIC OF THE DAY
taking something essential away
from those who have nothing
citizens
no longer the property
of Placebo Town
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After a hard day hanging off a stoop,
I returned to my squat, an abandoned
apartment block. But some fuck had
boarded all the windows up, and the
front door now had a big shiny lock.
I still managed to gain entrance by
climbing the fire escape to the roof
top. Soon as I got to my little space,
now a room without a view, a stun
grenade went off in my face! A bunch
of security guards, goons armed with
tasers and baseball bats, were storming
the place. The owner obviously wanted
his property back. So time to hit the road,
Jack. I quickly pried the window open
and made my escape down a drain pipe,
with just the shirt on my back, and a
plastic shopping bag full of dirty washing.
Later, in the park, I met up with the other
squatters who’d also made it out. We all
sat there counting our luck, and drinking
port brandy till well after dark.
Remembering my dirty washing, I headed
off to the nearest laundromat. At least I’d
have something clean to lay back in whilst
awaiting what an unwanted tomorrow may
bring. In the meantime I met up with Joey,
a fellow old soldier and drinking companion.
Just how many, I forget, but after a beer
or three I went back, but that laundromat
had closed down, with hardly time for a
final rinse. In it’s place now stood a Chinese
restaurant. Everthing is done at a frantic
pace here in Placebo Town.
I’m at peace being out of the rat race. I’m
happy living like a vagrant hermit monk,
all on my own. No punching the clock, no
constant ringing of the phone. No endless
demanding to bring the latest worthless
junk home.
As Janis Joplin use to sing, freedom is just
another word for nothing left to lose.
So, what the heck!
I found my freedom from the chain gang
face down the neck of a bottle of booze.
~ Vague Rant,
David’s homeless Belgian Stylist
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the guys in Placebo Prison taunt one another
with tales of Vague Rant
the luckiest man
on two feet
FREE
Vague Rant
the scribe of a thousand saints
bathed in a vibrating ocean of God’s love
a hermit outside the mystery of the grave
all knees bend even those long frozen in place
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Seeking out the ragged people
Searching those hidden places
only the forgotten ones know
Being sure to listen out for the
vague rant of a hermit monk
The words of the downtrodden
ringing a bell from down below
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When the medications
have runs out
on a cold and moonless night
the doors all disappear
and the walls begins to shout
as Vague Rant
the street prophet
wakes up in a cold sweat
frozen with dreaded fright
His nefarious twin
born of shame and fear
who he desperately keeps hidden
has arisen from deep within
Vague Grunt is now here
and looking for a fight
The haunted streets
of Placebo Town
are his Kingdom
All hail Vague Grunt
the undisputed champion
of the damned has returned
Locked and loaded for the hunt
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real poets often sleep with their feet pointing north
roughnecks who collect scraps and quilt them together
I question why they choose to think that all souls are female
nothing to grasp and drag them back
the mother who never turns to rescue
who refuses to label, address, or announce
(@) it is scary the lack of fingers and toes
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SOMETIMES WHEN ONE LEAVES THE WORLD
up can be down and down can be up
lean cattle in the shadows
extremely nervous
perhaps the
ringing
bell
is a troublesome sound
Israel seems cold hearted
collective survival needs renewal
metaphysical implications for people next door
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Vague Grunt
enjoyed exhibiting photographs
of skinny sick Americans hooked up
to Dollar Store grade breathing machines
skeletal men and women who piddle from their pelvis
orange jelly caked openings, males north, females south
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