Category: Poetry

Sailing High in Creation

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Riding the bounds
Sailing high in creation
Things that astound
on the wing
in the deep
and under the ground
Yet consciousness
hard up against the glass
of this broken existence
Confiscated by the State
as a piece of degenerate art
then sold as a slave
to the black market of fate
I made the big break
for the heights of Montmartre
A spirited defence
yet only token the resistance
at the cutting edge
of forsaken circumstance

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A Distant Recollection

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Once upon a time

loving kindness

that orphaned daughter

of some forgotten martyr

from a far off constellation

just waiting to happen …

Once drifting so fine

in my distant recollection

a brother lost

distracted by an attraction

to the stranger of danger

and the mother of all crime

Becoming a pawn

in that never ending

murderous game

of worldly power

and territorial gain

the soldier of misfortune

now marching to the tune

of a traumatized mind

On the dirty street corner

sprawled upon yesterday’s paper

used and discarded

“Can you spare a dime?”

scrawled on a sign

The whole Earth is our father’s land

Loving Kindness … once upon a time

Words and Image;
~ David B Redpath © 2018

The Happiness Report

The Happiness Report
from the pagan haven
of a guarded and gated
sunny seaside resort
Machine tooled
from a block of concrete
Then deposited
upon a mangrove swamp
along a once pristine coast
Now a checkpoint
and a guard tower
cast shadows
across the lungs of nature
dying of tourist cancer

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Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

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Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie
(edited) ~ by Bob Dylan

When yer head gets twisted
and yer mind grows numb
When you think you’re too old,
too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin’ behind
an’ losin’ yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl
of life’s busy race
No matter what yer doing
if you start givin’ up
If the wine don’t come
to the top of yer cup
If the wind’s got you sideways
with one hand holdin’ on
And the other starts slipping
and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire
needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood’s easy findin’
but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin’
and the street gets too long
And you start walkin’ backwards
though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up
as down goes the day
And tomorrow’s mornin’
seems so far away

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