Werewolf Déluge

“Just keep on walking!”

I saw a werewolf

with a hymn book in his hand

prowling around

as he sniffed the ground

from Jonestown to Gaza

He’s that well manicured gent

some say he is heaven sent

Huh, I’d like to meet his tailor

You can hear him howling

on your television set

Better not turn it on

Little old lady got bitten

late last night

Werewolves of religion again

. . . Ooh Ahh

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Just One Drop

JUST ONE DROP

Just one drop
that falls not
That never fails
in erasing all fault

A death
that brings life
One for all
In the serenity
of a friendly voice
I hear the call
Always a choice
to steer your vessel
on a heavenly course
Words of wisdom
the truth to tell
One drop of love
that doesn’t fall
and never fails

Just one drop
of grace divine
suspended . . .
in the fullness of time
No silent witness
to a world of crime
A door is wide open
as the Word
has been spoken
throughout the expanse
of infinite space
One drop of hope
for this human race

Just one drop …
more than enough

Words & Artwork:
~ David B. Redpath © 2018-19

Empathogenesis

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Bursting forth
from the Hotel Eden,
a thunderous explosion.
The trembling earth
cracked wide open
as from the fiery breath
of a vengeful dragon.
Smoke swirling around
the all consuming flames
like hot tongues of venom.
Shattered glass descending
as vicious rain
over everything broken.
The dead and the dying
a shrine to destruction.
Upon the bloodied lips
of dazed confusion
a burning question …
“How could a loving God
allow this to happen?”

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No Exits ~ Exist On

NO EXITS ~ EXIST ON

In the car park
of a stark oblivion
best to leave
your engine running
Don’t plug the spark
Don’t phone it home
all on your own
in the brooding dark
If you’ve got the app
of a beating heart
with an overflowing cup
don’t text it to the exit
like some Brexit
lost in transit
with Boris in the forest
So therefore go forth
and Sexit up …
if you really must

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The Doors of Deception

Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust.
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.

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