Alchemisland

Verses mode

Before them sud streaked mugs five times drained

Englanders using Guinness kegs to make acephalic pints

A big rasher wearing a monk’s habit

Too much ludicrousness for this reasonable world, Will you or Will I shake spears at it

Spurned to speech, some event; speak, speak

Shaking his speech appears as murmur disappears

Coincidance eyes crowd entrance an audience at him leers

An audience fit for Lear, Cordelia dearest dear Gloucester hard by here

A hovel, from here ‘tis as if they grovel, small seeming, he peeks out

Between words, his verses enchanting, subtle as peach fuzz

He turns his back to them, feels on his flank see-ers, hears jeers

Holds that pose and builds fear, his time to turn again near but unknown 

His ears prickling, arrears him the crowd, sneering at his rear

Time for it no longer near, now here, turns and crowd hears his words

Tears cascade like magma veers, between jet black crags and dust of years

Beers are brought to tearstricked lips and would sear if feeling inflamed

Sentences veer, careening like voodoo ships across the bay of an ear

More they’ve yet to hear, that much is clear and the stage uncleared hosts him

Gulliver averred that of the gull’s gutting he was on charges clear, no misdemeanour, no rapt ear

Middling sun as seen at sea, neither sunrise nor sunset

Ships toward the nearby pier, bound inevitably west

Countless weeks stranded on boundless water, lake of tears

Sails a patchwork quilt of tears need mending

He rambled on drunk as a lord, with all the brevity of a Dictator at the apogee of his reign

Abhorring many with rogue sensibility, others merely bored at his broad talking, some brain