The Grand Artisan

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?
Is this life
but an artistic documentary?
Seen through all the agony
and the ecstasy …
the triumph and the tragedy?
Have we truly
been given a free hand
by the Artisan Grand?

Or are we rats in a laboratory?
Are we but particles
within the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
Just mere quarks
traversing the dark?
An infinitesimal part
of a dimension mechanical?
Speaking relativity,
where is the power and the glory?
A perpetual quantum
crunching the numbers
in some mindless continuum.
Is that the universal story?

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The Elvis of God

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. . . and the Glam Rock

A child playing

with wildfire rebellion

The croupier who deals you in

swiftly twisting

sweet venom on the tongue

with chemical smoke rising

Into the wasteland

of a wandering soul

a toxic river is flowing

Body and spirit

within the echo of a scream

paying a heavy toll

Caught in the tangled web

of a deceptive dream

The gambler seduced

with an empty hand

upon a dying bed

For heaven’s sake

sleepwalkers awake

Is it ever too late

to make the big break?

Who’s pulling the strings?

Can you hear the truth

when the Elvis of God sings?

Continue reading “The Elvis of God”

The Angelic Garden

Trick or Treaters
Big Schemers and Tweeters
no need for greed
in the Angelic Garden
of infinite abundance
where the mushrooms
and toadstools
of supernaturally
flavoured darkness
are always in season
From a realm beyond
all rhyme & reason
the Candy Man cometh
upon the seas of madness

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Of Cotton & Things Rotten

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‘Poetry of America –
The Cosmic Athletes’
~ by Salvador Dali

Everybody knows
that the dice are loaded.
Everybody rolls
with their fingers crossed.
Everybody knows the war is over.
Everybody knows the good guys lost.
Everybody knows the fight was fixed.
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich.
That’s how it goes.
Everybody knows.

And everybody knows
that it’s now or never.
Everybody knows
that it’s me or you.
And everybody knows
that you live forever,
ah, when you’ve done a line or two.
Everybody knows the deal is rotten.
Old Black Joe’s still pickin’ cotton
for your ribbons and bows.
And everybody knows.
~ Leonard Cohen

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‘The Angler’
~ by David B. Redpath © 2019

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‘Heavy and Metal
Industrialised Refreshment’

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The spiritual home of Whopper Culture.

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Reigning Mustard …
in the Hall of the Fast Food King.

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The Missionary … San Pepsi,
Patron Saint of the Junk Food State
and the Grand Wholly Processed High Carbohydrate.

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The Converts …
Obesity & Malnutrition
dished up on one plate
in the developing world,
where the profits are great!

Photography :
David B. Redpath © 2017-19