Of Cotton & Things Rotten

fullsizerender-20-01-01-414703685.jpeg

‘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

<!–more–>

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

screenshot_2017-11-21-13-48-20-01-01-01-229913366.jpeg

‘Heavy and Metal
Industrialised Refreshment’

screenshot_2017-11-21-14-39-09-01-01-01-84244830.jpeg

The spiritual home of Whopper Culture.

screenshot_2017-11-21-14-23-20-01-01-01-01-374180064.jpeg

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

screenshot_2017-11-21-16-51-37-01-01-01-1565998087.jpeg

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

screenshot_2017-11-21-22-11-30-01-01-01-1240589004.jpeg

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

Photography :
David B. Redpath © 2017-19

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

Continue reading “No Exits ~ Exist On”

The Grand Artisan

God, the ultimate Artist.
The supreme Scientist.
The intimate presence within,
and throughout this existence.
Regenesis … poetry in motion.
Is life but an artistic documentary?
Seen through all the agony
and the ecstasy,
the triumph and the tragedy?
Or are we rats in a laboratory?
Are we but particles
within the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
But a quark traversing the dark?
An infinitesimal part of the 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?

Continue reading “The Grand Artisan”