Mr. Fire-ring Philanthropy
of the Wall Street Diddle
and magnate
of all things plastic
that float upon the sea
to whom do you compare?
31 million light years away
the Whirlpool Galaxy!
Somewhere way past
the Milky Way’s middle
and the black hole
for star dust to recycle

As the quantum leaps
the physics of mechanics
masters of the known universe
praying to manifestations
of the Perpetual Parallelogram
whilst paying their taxes
to Never Never Land
Like sunshine on the shoulder
of Mr. Mandala
The black tie-dyed dysfunction
misfiring on all cylinders
across energy dark oceans
Scouring the cosmos
for the lingering cinders
of big bang smoke rings
Leaving nothing but
trails of toxic compost

All creation unfolding
The pleasure of her planets
beyond all measure
tasting the royal blue
starlight of Rigel
Antares … Mu Cephei
and Canis Majoris
An explosion
of symphonic sampling
The pollen from heaven
… sublime recreation
Treasures of a manifold
universe flowering
within a vortex swirling
The Great Spirit seeding
with divine inspiration

All creation declaring
“The Starry Host …
but a breath of his mouth”
Stars forming
and not a one missing
Led forth and called by name
The All in All
all too Majestic
The fact of all matter
flowing and forming
with vibrations ecstatic
The sacred expression
of all creation
… the Word spoken
throughout space and time
in the manner
of intelligent design
Beyond all human
Tripping the light years
Singing the heavenly body
electric and magnetic
Calling you too … by name.
Can you see through
the haze of worldly static?
A galaxy ablaze
The stars are aflame

Can’t you see
through tears of rage
the all too tragic?
North and south now ringing
with the echo of a holocene
upon this age
The mass production
of porcine consumption
East and west
the Earth’s biosphere
and getting thin
Like breathing in
the Martian air
submerged and purged
in the gravity of despair

This Lincoln County Road
birthed in cannibalism
The headhunters of globalism
not by half measure
all conquering
Only the extremeophiles
soon to be surviving?

The Ring of Fire
with all top scientists
embedded in his payroll
by the lure of the money
he begged, borrowed
and stole
But they’ll never cure
his crooked old soul
That overseer
of the Big Diddle
on a downhill rock’n’roll

Bitcoin … just
a mathematical riddle
from the Parallelogram
of all financial scam
In the mad scramble
to take a seat
at the master’s table
do you really wish
to take that gamble?
Deep in the crypt
of cryptocurrency
a curse is brewing
for the false idols
of globalised prosperity
Forces that grapple
within the Grand Apple
of an all seeing eye
As the Shock Exchange
of Do & Die
patiently awaits
that root mean square
He who dictates
your life exchange rates
The Sultan of Swindle
A wolf wearing
sheep skinned underwear
All but over for
a total lunar eclipse
of the merchant banker
on the fiddle

“Why not today ?”
I hear you say
The fat cat too full
to run off with
an ever lovin’ spoonful
The holy cow too busy
making hay
with your social media
harvested information
A black mirror algorithm
calling the tune
to some little dog
who’s had a dishful
As personal freedom
ran away with the spoon

Like being forked
by a goose
and knifed
by some mother
Then dished up for supper
But hey … Mr. Diddle
doesn’t every dog
have his day?
And not a moment too soon
since the Whirlpool Galaxy
31 million light years away
and your shareholders
are now over the Moon

~ david redpath © 2018


Harpers Ferry – The Stories In Between

We used to dance

In Harpers Ferry

We used to sing

And dream out loud


But it’s all quiet now

Since they hung John Brown


And I’m never gonna leave


There’s no queen anymore

And the rivers all run dry

It’s so hot down here

Since the winters last good bye


Please don’t leave me

In Harpers Ferry

‘Cause here some things they float

And some things they fall


Now my blue eyes

Have turned to grey

And these words I write

Have lost their meaning


But I’m never gonna leave

No I’m never gonna leave

Harpers Ferry


harpers 1


More from the author can be found at The Stories In Between



You say, my newborn face dwells only in the frames of your ancient house,

and my purity was left in my mother’s womb and arms

So now, you try to cleanse me with your precious soap

Scour… Scrub… Rub…

and then you conceal me with lotion, some powder, more perfume!

And yet some more, make me sore

Chafed. Excoriated. Distorted.

But I am the one who chokes on all the bitter pills you have to swallow

I am the one who burns your cigarettes as I varnish your thoughts,

and engrave your soul within my poetry

whilst you hide along its dusky alley

I am the one who can assemble your back like a jigsaw puzzle

I know your true colors, your soft spots

I know how to get you down on your knees

I know how we collide in the dark

For I’ve memorized the pieces and the layers of you,

and I’ve traveled the twisted lines on your spine too

I reside within your core, within the crevices of your bones

I am the scabs on your wounds, the callus on your fingers, the dust in your hair,

your best keeper

I am your shadows and I linger like the smell of cigarettes on your damp skin

Oh, my dearest self!

Stop excavating your flesh for my corpse

‘Cause I’m never ever gonna be away,


Eat me whole.


© Image from Brooke Shaden Photography


First published on Eli Kyoko’s personal blog: Moonlit Pieces.

She’s dressed in black from head to toe…

Earth to Mars, Mars to Venus – David and Marguerite Redpath


Earth to Mars

My husband is missing
deep in cyberspace
He was last seen on Mars
(Does Elon Musk
know that my X man
got there first?)
Now I’ve lost all trace
Is he missing me
somewhere on Planet Poetry
whilst hunting
and collecting
in an alternate universe?
Where aliens
with inktipped claws
scratch each other’s backs
with a quote or a verse
of wisdom … or vice
depending on their mood
I don’t mean to sound terse
for it is their chosen food
To regurgitate the past
and masticate the future
From haunted dreams
to visions of splendour
night and day
they meander
Is that him I hear
swaggering like Jagger
through the front door
or some Jabberwocky
crying out for more?
No …
So if you see him
the one in an oilskin coat
a snakeskin belt
Cuban boots
and an old felt hat
please let him know
there’s a launch pad vacant
waiting for him
down here below
Just for my runaway
somewhere out there
lost in the Milky Way

~ Marguerite Redpath   © 2018

20170724_134209-01-01-01-01-02-01-01-01-01 (2)

Mars to Venus

But …
my fair maiden
of eternal bliss
love trumps
Or is it arrogant
of me
to say this?
Am I becoming
the cyber hermit
with observations
from some
distant planet?
My loving Venus
the cosmic tide
upon which we ride
has a heavenly permit
It leads me
It keeps me
in celestial transit
as I toil
in creations soil
have I left nothing
upon the shelf?
But words pressed
like virgin oil
from the ripe flesh
of life itself
Words put to the test
in the fires of hell
Then heaven blessed
upon your lips
with a holy breath
Am I caught
in the crush?
Am I chasing
the rush?
I’ve had my head
in the vice
of interstellar ice
at the light speed
of greed
The price was too high
And it wasn’t very nice
Is there peril
in throwing the dice
at a poetic level
With you
and the Spirit true
can I weather
any battle?
My Gypsy Queen
have you seen
all that has been
in one pure drop
of a golden dream?
Do you know
What is to be?
In loss
have you counted the cost
of a hard won victory?
You are my star sign
You know the Word
ever spoken
seldom heard
is deep within me
You are my grand plan
You hold my future
in the palm of your hand
Please be with me
For I am surrounded
by divisive opinions
being spoon fed
to hungry minions
from strange dominions
of magic potions
Toxins in the grave
of promises broken
My reborn Venus
I’m a slave
to your satisfaction
My lonely lover
do you thirst
for that burst
from where true love
comes first?
I place you
high above me
In the raging fire
of your desire
I put myself last
Do you wish me
to be
no talk
and all action
in this world
of blind reaction
Hating hatred
Fighting for peace
amongst the spies
of Trickle-down lies
As the last post sounds
for feudal economics
a war is raging
of greed and injustice
self inflicting
by the clenched fist
of unforgiveness
Forgive me my absence
Shall I
should I
cease and desist?
In love
I’m willing to be
your soul apprentice
For your call
to enthral
I find hard to resist

~ david redpath   © 2018

For more of David’s work, please visit: Highway Bloggery


images (21)

The unpeeling of the mask

is making known once

someone enters your carnal abode

Flesh is ripped and you are there

Your imperfections laying bare

Maximised by a voracious glare

Though her agony is not actually due to


but what lies untold, more so

The spell that comes out of these words that cannot be disclosed

Can impede the morphing of liberties,

The desires she will carry on hidden

Contemplating her sexual miseries

Knowledge in this case, is not freeing

She does not want to end t-his daydreaming

It is all too pristine, one is thinking

Though her filth is covered in glossy inking

How can one fulfill their wishes?

When there are labels that are sticking?

Love has a weight and a preconditioning

This one comes with a tag

The price for commitment 

is to be marked with a pigment

Of scars that resurface upon healing


Written by the Irizillian Divastate, find more of her unmasking writings on her personal blog:
Expose the self.

The Love Memorandum

The Love Memorandum – David Redpath

David Redpath

20180121_111044-01-01-01-02774794570.jpegThe Love Memorandum

Still breathing
Living still
From oceans deep
a mortal spill
The waters testing
in the fullness of time
What’s in your heart?
Who’s on your mind?
Having received
the Love Memorandum
from Planet Freedom
Regarding that love
that doesn’t change
with the wild weather
Of love forged
in the fires of forever
A love that never fails
Like the latter rains
of a summer harvest
Love gives meaning
to this existence

View original post 640 more words

Introducing: The Stories In Between – Mirror

Fucking mirror.

I have no desire to look at myself right now. But I can’t help but look. Each time, for just a moment during the approach, maybe, maybe this time, something will be different. But it’s not. It’s all the same. I can’t find a way to get away from this, it’s always the same. There has to be something that can carry me from this place, something more has to be waiting . . . it’s just too hard to accept that this is all there is. Where is the hope? Surely it doesn’t lie in all this.  I don’t care how deep you dig, nothing of any value lives here. And I’m sure, soon, you’ll give up. It’s too much work. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.  But please, before you walk away, look at my face one last time.

How careless is all this? How many things have we dropped along the way? Sometimes we step over and other times we just step on. Have you looked at your shoes lately? There may be more than gum on your soul. If you found a way beneath these layers can you accept what’s exposed? This is all for you but can you take it?

The mirror tells no lies. Well, maybe a few, but there’s enough truth in there that we can dismiss the lies. How else can you see the lines and darkness beneath the eyes? Who could ever look at yourself in the way you can? It takes a lot sometimes but other times, not much at all.

Because sometimes it really doesn’t matter. And other times it truly does matter but we just don’t give a shit.

Fucking mirror.


Life is pretty good these days. But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember. It’s quite easy, too easy, to slip back to what once was, realizing it still is. I have the knowledge that there is an underlying hope in all this, which is one of the greatest gifts the years have given me. So the question remains, are you willing to expose that which lies in between? – The Stories In Between