Walking the ancient paths
of my forefathers
from a favela slum
to the mountain summit
through fields of green
far beyond
the stormy weather
singing a gypsy hymn
petitioning the heavens
for a taste of that
ever loving
Kingdom to come
Never the right answer
Always the wrong question
Is Jesus Christ
the key to eternity?
After all is said and done
He’s the one
who rose from the dead
Maybe . . .
the baby of nativity
has been thrown out
with this world’s
dirty bathwater?
the delights of shallowness
the dangers of depth
the bottom of every day
is cruel
voyages of love
overhead
(+) whispers float and secrets sink
~ Multiple Michael
In a time before time
high I was taken
to the summit
of a holy mountain
and watched as the future
marched past in procession
The whole of creation
high on celestial power
singing in celebration
Glory sparkled in the air
vibrating with divine passion
In the midnight hour
I now pray to heaven
that one fine day
… it will finally happen
… and Glam Rock Saviour
of a child playing
with wildfire rebellion
as the croupier of sin
deals him in
to a game even the dead
can never win
Body and spirit
within the echo of a scream
caught in the tangled web
of a deceptive dream
swiftly twisting
the taste of sweet venom
from the acrid smoke rising
over a wasteland
of wandering souls
where a toxic river flows
into a boiling ocean
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
an art installation
in the middle of nowhere
floating
in a sea of nothing
CREATION
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
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
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
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 brush strokes of regret
David Redpath 