Can you measure
a bird of flight
by the weight
of a single feather?
Can you look
into the face of a child
and not see
the deepest treasure?
Yellow, black,
brown, or white …
love divine
is at the heart
of the matter
Where hatred
is a raging river
there’s a purpose
for the yet to be
hero of great valour
who sees beyond
the muddied surface
More precious
than gold or silver
that wide eyed innocence
The loving potential
of the truly essential
… Imaginessence
“I’m a hog for you, baby.
Can’t get enough of your love.
When I go to sleep at night
That’s what I’m dreaming of.
One little piggie went to London.
One little piggie went to Hong Kong.
This little piggie’s
Comin’ over to your house
Wee wee wee be makin’ whoopee
Cookin’ that cracklin’
Makin’ sweet lovin’ bacon
All night long.
One little piggie ate pizza.
One little piggie ate potato chips.
This little piggie’s
Comin’ over your house, mamma.
Gonna level with your sweet lips.”
~ Clifton Chenier
(Genetically Modified 😎)
Artwork courtesy of Multiple Michael
https://multiplemichael.wordpress.com/2020/03/12/the-secret-ingredient/
Like links in a chain
I was strung out
somewhere between
those merry little elves
reaching for the light
and the servants of pain
dwelling in the dark
Having spent
a lifetime bent
circling the extreme
of an astral plain
within a fevered brain
headed down the drain
The ecstasy
and the insanity
Yet the message was sent
Called by name . . .
“Be wholly sane!
And man …
don’t forget to repent!
You’ll never be the same.”
“It pays the bills.”
~ Salvador D.
——DALI——
The new kid in Placebo Town
——DAVID REDPATH——
“How much is that Ewok in the window?
The one with the waggly tail.
How much is that Ewok in the window?
I do hope that Ewok’s for sale.”
——DAVID REDPATH——
I am the beast
of least resistance
The organ grinder
upon humanity’s back
The Alpha Influencer
on your social media
The leader of the pack
waving a borrowed bible about
Whilst high as a kite
on the aphrodisiac
of greed and corruption
I am the crack
in all creation
🙈 🙉 🙊
An evening with the Punk Poet
. . . John Cooper Clarke.
A National Treasure
. . . if Bedlam was a nation 😎
Fleeing Chicken Town, evidently,
Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’
Continue reading “PROPHETIC”
