Alchemisland

At my thumb track, her spine traced

Her back tightens, undulating lace

From her jean waist bending forward

Clash of Titans, Andromeda frightened by Krakens

Cracking on with it, craic is 60 I’ve techniques like a crack shot for trick joints

I knew when she linked me the think sexy is mutual, shortest distance between points

Texting her dirt between pints, playing it just right

How about tomorrow night?

Said yeah, now it’s tonight.

---

I’m not saying she’s a fiend for the coke

Arrived with 3 wraps in my coat

Now I’ve none left

My lips are fucked like palette cleft

Bloat in the joint’s waistline but it smokes fine

Your guy’s face is turning white as white wine

3 wraps in tow, my pocket holes debrised with weed

Safe as houses but Holmes’ home has more coke than tweed

I’m hounding her Baskervilles, blunts from Baker Street

Scandals here forget Bohemia, no ice I’ll take it neat

White around her nose holes like recent sleet on a windowsill.

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Baked as cakes, is maith liom cáca milis

I have more war stories than John Milius

I adore more Hyperborean barbarians than 

She’s so white I see greening, head thrown back extols the ceiling

“It’ll be alright” as I throw down sawdust

Well it’s a joke name, sir, like Sillius Sodus

In here hot as Stardust, Dublin’s young turned to dust 

Fire exit with a padlock on, place where evil dead are gone

My mounded gold in amount devalues currency

Her mound in breadth, her ample breast, astounds me currently.

---

I’m like John Clare bored in Bedlam, no more poem inventing

My belly is empty, God says to eat bdellium

Hold your ears open my stories I’m telling ‘em

I’ve got something up my sleeve that’ll make the men here ask girls to leave

Some hit and release pent up stress, others sneeze

Some cry down receivers, born receivers, others crease

Like first time stoned domes, Stone Dome give Michael’s Monks homes above a sea ceaseless

Hit more pipes than a civic sewer checker or a flushed alligator’s tail

Two on the go like the head of a flail, my fingers read their body braille

Batailles fixes on eyes but his cult won’t make him their acéphale

My bank is too big to fail

With defeat buried, to dig to fail

Her cheeks paler than what’s in a pail.

---

Huffing witch finger blems fulla trees is his disease the GP decrees having hammered my knees

My reflexes slower than armless rowers in slow boats through mucus

Friend with weed is friend indeed, money in envelopes like kids on Eid

The end of ease these ends of Es 

Knuckle them to dust atop my keys

Busking done I gather cash and hit the streets

That manna we gathered began stinking fast

It’s white, sustaining and dug from a crevasse.