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?
… sealed with a kiss and a warrant
He fly da vulture
He stranger than danger
He swamp da monster
He got winner envy
He lose by plenty
He look orange monkey
He big sunshine faker
He red carpet bagger
He Passé da posse grabber (?)
He dat hound dog’s brother
He da Beastie’s bestie
He one mother trucker
He be Frankenstein’s baby
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 brushstrokes of regret
A Pathenon of Seduction
As a naïve teenager
a youth of pure innocence
I was ruthlessly seduced
by a mysterious Grecian lover
who’s pagan charms
were impossible to resist
Was it the insatiable desire
of a reckless Aphrodite
that so graciously
nearly killed me
with her all consuming divinity?
Or was it the passive aggression
of Athena that turned
a carefree choir boy
into a reprobate man?
I truly don’t know
. . . but for just one
heart pounding millennium
she touched me deeply
with her nefarious wisdom . . .
“Hard up against the impetuous
of an Olympian Goddess, there will
be no winning for any mere human.
So take what is given while you can,
and do your best to make Eros jealous!”
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”
A Mediterranean Odysseum
I once had an epic lover
of Olympian splendour
Nightly she would come to me
as the lustful goddess, Aphrodite
Lost in her insatiable pleasure
I was driven completely crazy
Yet by the break of dawn
she would miraculously transform
into Athena, the born again virgin
… Zeus’s warlike daughter
with her divinity fully intact
in a vesuvian rage, and ready to attack
Her Bronze Age Wisdom
wielded as a deadly weapon
Was I just her Troy Boy to be used
and then abandoned come the morning?
For the children
of a grand delusion
who never stopped dreaming
For those hurting
through all the loving
and the loathing
who fell
chasing their own tail
like a sacrificial offering
to a reflection glistening
four sheets to the wind
and under the full sail
of a fevered imagination
David Redpath 