Gloria the Head Huntress
and mud wrestler of splendour
forever in my thoughts
in her XL sized spandex dress
We first met
at the Double D Sports Bar
down by the railroad tracks
on the outskirts of Placebo Town
Category: Art
The Placebo Diaries (6)
an art installation
in the middle of nowhere
floating
in a sea of nothing
CREATION
Lovers ~ Before and After
ISIS of CRISIS
It now seems
so very long ago
I travelled
that tempestuous path
blessed with
the wrath of Osiris
that led me to Har Məgīddō
where I first met Isis
the serene queen
of my karmic crisis
formed at the frenzied height
of a broken séance
that was torn from a dream
at the Mirage Oasis
where she laid in wait
greeting me in style
with her crystalline smile
“Hello Sailor!
Any port in a storm?
Come pull up a deckchair
and let’s chat for a while.”
Evil Conspires
Evil conspires
That’s what evil
does the best
mixing a little piece
of veritas
with a whole lotta lies
It was a conspiracy
that put Jesus Christ
to death
up on the cross
A religious plot
that was then
blown apart
and thrown back
in the Devil’s face
Patience is a virtue
as Evil will continue
to scheme and conspire
often with a dangerous mix
of religion and power
but inevitably
all conspiracies backfire
Eventually the devious
will pay a heavy price
for misleading the gullible
Like an election
in a two horse race
providing the illusion
of you having a choice
only to herald in
a rising tide of trouble
My Word
Poetic words
Words most appealing
Words that play with you
only to leave you
hanging from the ceiling
Words of the absurd
… devoured by birds
Words deceiving
Words that may never
wish to be heard
Words most revealing
Words that leave me
… lost for words
Words with true feeling
Reign On Me
Where Beauty Resides
The bells of liberty
by your stockings rung
The deepest restraints
in my hands … undone
A ladder of splendour
slowly climbing
Your sacrament melting
upon my thirsting tongue
quenched in the ocean
of love’s perfection
Down on bended knees
lost in the tender squeeze
of your wholly communion
To ride the high tide
of hard won liberation
Yet … I’m a captive slave
to your will being done
Art From The Heart
let them go
line after line
let them blossom
or die on the vine
generations generating
like fish in the ocean
there is magic
in all creation
the diobolical
and the divine
the synthetic
and the truthful
poetry in motion
birth and death
the beautiful
and the hateful
feeding at the bottom
with hungry desperation
or at the top of your game
riding a high
of natural exhilaration
From the Tate
On the banks of the Thames
beyond the doors of the Tate
glimpsed through the haze
of a London heatwave
the Post-Modernist of Fate
painting it all black
whilst trying hard to forget
his brushstrokes of regret
David Redpath 