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
God … the ultimate Artist
The supreme Scientist
The intimate presence within
and throughout this existence
Regenesis … poetry in motion
Is she masculine
or is he feminine?
Is the answer
beyond our understanding?
Are we just avatars
in a game of actual reality
Is this life
an artistic documentary
viewed through
all the agony
and the ecstasy
the triumph and the tragedy?
Have we truly
been given a free hand
by the Artisan Grand
upon the canvas of eternity?
Or are we just
rats in a laboratory?
A collection of quarks
traversing the dark?
Mere particles within
the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
An infinitesimal spark
in a dimension mechanical?
Speaking of relativity
where is the power and the glory?
A perpetual quantum
crunching the numbers
in some mindless continuum
Is that the universal story?
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
The Big Get Even
Perhaps it was too much
for the Sindicate to accept
such a substantial loss
Understandably upset
they put out
a 24 hour contract
on poor Leon
their number one suspect
Goons with prison haircuts
packing serious heat
under ponchos and anoraks
were scouring the streets
Toads a’ croaking
The sugarcane high
Fools rushing in
Where angels fear to fly
Doors broken
Blown open
Eucalyptus trees
Thrown asunder
In the white hot thunder
Of a cyclonic breeze
The contradiction
within creation
a perpetual balancing act
with the disharmony
of destruction
That spark of oblivion
as sharp as a knife
From every dimension
in every direction
a never ending question
Salvador Dali whispering
. . . “Everything
that is contradictory
creates life.”
Conformity is death
Imperfection breeding strife
Continue reading “Contra Versia”
For the children
of a grand delusion
forever dreaming
For those hurting
through all the pain
and the loathing
who fell chasing
a dragon’s tail
The glittering gift
of a burnt offering
four sheets to the wind
under the full sail
of a fevered imagination
Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat
David Redpath 