Wristflick this Blick’s got Shergar horsekick A whore’s sick who’s kicking horse indoors Chavs and spides and dole life types queueing outside my door Rosy wines a one-eyed prophesier pours. I am Bosie to her Wilde The worst vices I implore their swift trial. With a comb’s unwitting violence Imposes upon my coke-bridled nose her… Read more: Drug medleys – II
At once I wept, seeing that incredible web Kept so well. Ring-depth dipped finger purity test Abreast the restless dead, I press the dead for news of what’s ahead The gallery of nudes toward which I am led Forces my eyes to my shoes The salary of abuse this incommunal mood Incommunicable, dreadful, my blueness… Read more: Mood’s milk
Her dainty fingers denture white venture flighty Across a pricey Steinway’s elephantine phrases The air tastes of careless lace, first editions Spice laced, the rosy studio of Wilde, welcome seditions The piper, the rats, the limehouse mist At Sandyford, the chance she called last I missed like a lanyarded drunkard his Saggart-ward train, Alas the… Read more: By an oft-sprayed bay window she played a nameless Beethoven
Sinecure to my corrosive vinegar To replenish my vigour I flense her ghost ’til her post’s a narrow figure Lost in a world of embellished rigour Page-only figures, fleshless minions Fealty abides until no is required Some indignant choir singing into my quiet.
She is that example Every sampling inch her resisting curtain dangles Brings revolting groupies closer to my brambles. Molared chill scatters chidden leaves like strikers fleeing hissing tear. Bidden leave like a child who’s given cheek during a weekly meal; I am given leave to plead, for more lead Sufficient for feeling free, useless for… Read more: Hints of her
Alchemisland 
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