The Library Bandit – A.G. Diedericks

She’s the clandestine love child
of Plath and Poe
Where it is dark
Her words will glow

You’ll catch her on every
Library’s most wanted list;
Armed with a loaded lexicon
Her paper cuts plagiarists
Nuances ciphered in arcane;
She transfigures
into the Bibliophile’s Cocaine

A Bonnie liberated
from Clyde
Enslaved by her soul..
She struts like a wildfire
at the ball of a debutante
Oh, the devil knows
she’s no dilettante

The pyrotechnics of her chaos
rendered the sun jaundiced
She surfs on tsunamis
and dances with tornados
Ravenous hurricanes hunt
to copyright her name

She pays the poet
with liquidated journals
of iridescent nightmares
& cremated reveries;
scattering her history
in depths of poetry

Her misdemeanors articulates
in solitude;
Where she silences her demons
Hush, it’s story time..
A martyr for literature;
She fights for that killer hook
that forces the page to turn..
For she’s the book
that you’ll never return.

AUTODIDACT – A.G. Diedericks


I’m uneducated

punktuated by subversion

My verses run grades in reverse

I see only art in my continuum

I am averse to your curriculum

There’s no path for me in math

No rhythm in my algorithm

No symmetry in my poetry

I bastardize

established linguistics

I do it

Just to smite the elitist erudite

My philosophy is detached from your morphology

My beleaguered elocution

poisons Ivy league institutions

I am an alumnus

from the college of sacrilege

This is the narrative of a native

in class with the iconoclasts

We block the conjecture

I put a sock in the lecturer; Leave
’em annoyed

As i rock to the literature of pink floyd

I’m tryin’ to hold this mic, but my fingers keep slippin’

like Sigmund Freud

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

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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

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

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To Him They Belong

David Redpath

David Redpath

Down to sleep
their souls to keep
innocent and meek
Shaken … in shock
Grim trauma that seeps
out from the gutter
to reap
Below life’s glitter
where mothers weep
for innocence shattered
beyond all hope
Watch out now
Take care
Given enough rope
all things dark
and fearful
… into the deep

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Introducing David Redpath – Is She … ?

Is she
a love refugee?
From behind a veil
upon a prevailing trail
that has led her to me
My very being
With me
will she be
… satiated?
Is she soul free?
Is she emancipated
from that old man
… of slavery?

As some men
are driven
striven upon the winds
of blind confusion
to take and to break
the fruits of creation
Leaving only
a tide high
of destruction
Upon the ocean
of love’s perfection
a lonesome wake
For heaven’s sake
take care … beware
Naked and exposed
That’s the risk
she should never take

As for me …
is she to be
my conscience
of compassion
My soul companion
clear through
to eternity?
Across the sea
of unbridled passion
with a love
you just can’t forsake
My lucky star of destiny
is this predestination?
A burning fusion
you just can’t fake
This deal must be real
above and beyond
all the best of the rest
How much more
can a poor boy take?
Yet the very memory
of her first touch
Her chill to thrill
with time to spill
it thrills me still
Her private intensity
kept behind a lock
dissolving my key
Will she forever be
the unraveling of mystery
Seizing and freezing
my uncertainty
Is she …
just too much for me?
Is she …
mine to take?
I’m too far gone
It’s way too late
Under the glare
of a falling star
Heaven can wait

Words & PhotoArt:
© David Redpath 2018

I am currently a volunteer worker
for Bloggers Without Borders (BWB).
A free range anthropologist
by trade, absconding from,
after being seconded to,
the World Trade Federation (WTF)
I have transversed, in verse,
this cosmos, Monitoring the
background static, emanating
from the ‘Big Creation’.
Statement of Mission;
To submit, and submit again,
to the will of the Great Spirit
And as light through a prism,
paint a picture, and pen a poem.

We’re all on a road somewhere
David R. – Highway Bloggery

Wolfsbane (Aconitum)

Basilike’s Choice: Ryan Dowling
Because no one writes about a flower like he does.

Appendix Poetry

Wolfsbane (Aconitum)

On our stroll back from the estuary,
we rested beside a riverbank
and tugged these hooded flowers
from the edge of the foam.
I told you that they were violets,
but—what did I know?—
I couldn’t tell a lily from a lilac.

I wove them into your curls
until your hair was as heavy with purple
as dusk upon the rollicking waters,
slow-motion in the quickening breeze.

When I leaned my lips into yours,
yours had begun to quiver and sweat.
You grew rigid
and heavy
as petrified wood.
At first I was embarrassed
I’d overstepped
the boundaries that boys often risk
when faced with beautiful girls.
But later, I learned that the stems
of those flowers
had leaked into your scalp—
though it was hardly anything,
hardly anything at all—
this I learned
only after the paramedics
gave up on you.

by Ryan Dowling

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