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
Tag: Art
The Placebo Diaries (6)
an art installation
in the middle of nowhere
floating
in a sea of nothing
CREATION
Evil Conspires
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
De La Haute Couture
My Word
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
Where Beauty Resides
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
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?
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?
From the Tate
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
Absolute Power . . .
The Placebo Diaries (5)
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
David Redpath 