Alchemisland

I’m in a grid of spheres, it’s odd, 777 added totals the tiers
The lightning fork the branches veer toward Yesod from Hod; Mortal to God
Tower in the fog: laid out on cold stone the tat of old crone
Splayed out her bold bones the twats I’ve old known and outgrown like kid’s bones.
Charms spun on bone and names old when Young Rome prime power become.
Kid’s bones pliant full of future that mightn’t, their fresh minds perceive ghosts
Desired as hosts by hungry foes, vexing forces and hexing of horses. Retrieve word from throat.

A cursed horse by morning sweats
Oernight milk sours, rots as deaths
Thy homestead by black witches hexed
That crone a witch her that you vexed
Now the full weight of hate awaits
Only death sates a witch’s fate.

Riddled in the chapel wholly holey in the holy of holies
Riddles in the chapel the serpent the apple, that souls he’s
Aflame with radiance, a glance askance his chance, he plans and plants his words which will his station advance and his seeds are like Spring plants, with time and toil enhanced.

Doe is a deer a female deer but bipedal I can see the skinwalker’s step and dance
Dance a dance that Solomon danced and Solomon and Sheba’s Queen Sid and Nance
Yellow diamonds from Ophir which is near the ever shifting sand temples, camel trains veer
And flounder on the thirsty tea, the testing sea, what the Holy C with Chronovisor see gets buried but on his deathbed hold confetti Dr Ernetti his deathbed messy is looking sweaty, a guilty sort of sweaty and confession is ugly like Betty, he scans the roof through to the stars like SETI.
A gunman who loves his gun and his tool a part of his wrist, feels Berretty
There are secret worlds yet unknown to Arietty, upon which tireless suns are never setting, He
Who he plots the dance of the stars in diamonds and hope and surety.

An earthwork visible from space, undulating the serpent formed of mounds.
The King of Thessaly is not to be trusted and do not by his bidding set sail.
Here in this alley, rain bouncing like trampoline off the ground
Cans of druids which I have bought and one that I have found.
Lost and found let’s add Ling, a bee sting tamed by baking soda
This coda does not rhyme.