Indigents doing coke in the gents
Wolfwhistling grabbing testicles, hassling safety glass 24 hour Texaco
Ghent’s best offtake an edge, bald Mexican he bought it from
His girl’s drug-gullet capacious as a pelican’s
A 50s Guinness poster on a Christflank scratched mirror, as much reflection as pension book stamps are of a life
A Toucan brings two cans to a couple who plan a baby, one sip you’ll have it in a day
Before taking off he rolls a third, smaller can their way, for the babe he winks then is on the wing
Two can play at that game, wouldn’t incur the shame of sobriety, two pillars of society heighty on the whitey
Pills not diet-y in pick’n’mix variety
Fucking mess but neat and tidy.
Have to keep stretching, their heads in heaven like the raised host leavened
Claws at two and eleven, in-use typewriter carriage jaws, potential ulcers
Speaking without pause, feeling their balls ten times bigger and have dangerously high pulses
His wingspan spread, his aquiline nose must be clean – see Persil clinging
In his Peaky Blinder jacket arms airplaned, a Condor in Frasier tweed
White tree of Gondor they’ve got no leaves, no weed left
Pondering how to come upon hydroponic, roll up sleeves and hit the streets
Blue as sonic they call it purple it’s snot green sea green and they’ve greed
Ulysses as written by Mike Skinner, quill was an ink-dipped ten skinner
Head spinner this, Bee Gees repeated winner
Quicker with a steed’s speed, need the seed of Sleipnir and Shadowfax
Waiting for a text back, waiting for the axe to fall
The calls come through, must be balls how they’re rolling now
Ups are up and downs are down, no downpayment meet me now in town.
They leave just enough left
A wedge out of note roll
Metallic tasting nasal mucous rolls out noses like mutant tentacles
The west’s awake and ice obsessed, tie and runners is their well dressed
Mess hall tight haircuts, spin class for the beer guts, witbier is sehr gut, ser says to server
Can feel a crust on the scores in his pocket, pus caulk around open sores
Servants back home at Elsinore, maintaining lawns, renetting tennis courts
They adore Lex Fridman’s podcast, “My dad knew Fred Crisman”, and various kinds of endurance sport
They have a podcast where each week they sample different kinds of Port
Porkies in the H1 report soughtafternumbers honesty afterthought
They massage their own knees, veins raising at this indignation meeting
Youth fleeting, a waning beacon in the weathervane spinning gale rain, yet on they bleet
Mr Brightside starts with a cage escape, the Boys from the walled estates are on their feet
Italian leather squeaks like east asian cars beeping to keep the streets eking along, thrown arms find comrade shoulders, hands become phantom microphone holders
All the olders loath them and report this to the pourer, clockglancing longing for last orders
Memories hazy the next day, Stella Lansing blotches on the recorded evidence, lends
Credence to the suggestion that mixing drinks, ingesting admix, led to this indigestion, an inner inquest begins to tally last night’s sins..
Messing all night with Americans
They’re not used to the big boy tins we’re open carrying
Smell like recent demise in Dublin demesne, avoid certain lanes
The old main drag remains insane, the same queue of cars and buses snaking
Down quayside at a snailslide, spiretip put a hole in a peso
Asked, “Have you ever been Stateside?” which they deny; one afraid of flying, the other simply lying.
Gull’s feast on opened carrion, poppy lariated variags on the lumber place overlooking the low Liffey wall striations
Gull spikes in the bus station, the state of it, the plough and stars memorial where the territorial
Demand a moratorium on inward migration, they say the nation is full, they use terms like Ukraine Invasion but referring to Ireland
Our Land, they say, the clue is in the name: it’s ours
What kind of freedom movement extols white power
This city has a crazy power at its finest hour
We stop for a Paddy sup, smoke on the stoop and dab white powder
Yank A says I R A slowly like Mayor Quimby, aye ar ah
Suspect he thinks every second person had a Da
In the bally, tell him nah; he says my Da Hank fought in Korea
Career soldier an excellent man and respected veteran, he helps soldiers with retirement plans
He likes gardening and plants, he wears his pants so his zipper sits just below the nipple.
Only patient when waiting for weight
“I’m actually half Italian, I live near the Grand Canyon.”
Walk around Dublin Bloomstyle withershins
They all think they’re kin, my ma’s ma hailed from Armagh, da’s da from Letterkenny
Do you know Hennys out of Louth, around Drogheda or Collon? They don’t know colony like we do
Mate collars says he wants to leave, it’s a snore
Few snorts sure, she’ll be all yours on all fours
That beur wouldn’t go with me if I was calling go lassie go in a voice like Perry Como
Combs back slick fringe, shakes head, tells mate he’s heading that he’s welcome to exit too
The taxi moved like hair grew, as if through gruel, opposite of Spielberg’s Duel as dual carriageways unspool like forked tapes
Back at the gaff could have coke lines on tables and noses like tapirs but takedownagear
Low ABV beer top tier spliff like a green spear makes them feel like greenseers
Attenborough seems like a good idea but a hyena chase almost provokes a greener
Meaner when he’s not cleaned out, there’s no Fianna anymore
Fiacla sore with gurning, nose and throat burning, coke been a nice little earner
Toke binge sends them under, the ceiling of that dingy bedsit loud as thunder
Some footstep champion plundering his floorboards, sleeping with hoods up
Like Pan zealots in the woods, would chuck wood on the fire had they one, mercury’s up one.
Alchemisland 
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