That Dragon Tattoo


Toads a’ croaking
The sugarcane high
Fools rushing in
where the angels
fear to fly
Doors broken
thrown open
Eucalyptus trees
torn asunder
in the claws
of electric thunder
from a cyclonic breeze
Bells toll for the souls
strung out on the line
Then hung out to dry
in the doing of hard time
Yet not a word of goodbye
so what could I do ?
She gone with the man
with that dragon tattoo

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The Seasons

“It is something
to be deep
in the snow in Winter,
to be deep
in the yellow leaves
in Autumn,
to be deep
in the ripe wheat
in Summer,
to be deep
in the grass in Spring.”
~ Vincent van Gogh

In the shallows
just below
the translucent skin
of Spring
an opal blue explosion
the grand thaw of awe
to begin
The riverbank
in springtime
A chestnut tree
in blossom
dances along
the sparkling spectrum
Under a sky rent by light
on a starry starry night
Is seeing too much
beyond your place in time
and always
the crime?

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Curious Aquarius


Curious Aquarius

Aquarius Curious
With the overflowing
from a crystal chalice
I am floating … carried
upon waters living
by the green pastures
Ares upon bended knee
where Leo lies
down with the lamb
What is to be
upon the wings of a dove
what has past
. . . forever
hope , faith , and love ,
the future true
with the Salvation Man

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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 ?
A time of purpose
beyond worldly surplus
the yet to be
hero of great valour
More precious
than gold or silver
that wide eyed innocence
The loving potential
of the truly essential
… Imaginessence

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The Hawaiian Motel


I was staying at
the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian Motel
a Wild Turkey in hand
when the news broke
… the King of Rock
had just fell
He could Rhythm & Blues
He could Rock and Country
from the Heartbreak Hotel
And Gospel all the way
to the Edge of Reality
Heaven’s pearly gates
now blown to hell
Mosquitoes and neon buzzing
as the ‘No Vacancy’ sign
flickers on
at the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian motel

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The Ancient Paths


Walking the ancient
paths of my forefathers
From penthouse
to the favela slums
Forever that gypsy hymn
petitioning heaven
for Kingdom to come
The right answer
even to the wrong question
Has maybe the baby
been thrown out
with your bathwater ?
Señorita, señor,
sing for me again
that sweet gypsy hymn
Desperate times
Sacred treasures
Give me
that old time religion
Walking the ancient paths
of my forefathers

‘Roll of Honour’

Words & Artwork:
~ david redpath © 2018

Photography: Linda Redpath