Alchemisland

Surf’s amazing but I’m here for Colonel Kurtz

Surf eternal returning severed feet

Witches collecting inexplicable chicken feet on a Cornwall beach

Fossil record emblazoned in the ancient striation

Like a giant had scraped it

I’m naked.

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How long you been into black magic?

Since Pan rode the Attic plain, as urn emblazons, dismaying Keats

In your bedroom, reading spells on tumblr

Up to that wiccan antic in the attic

Getting clout by saying your great aunt

Was part of Robert Cochrane’s Tubal Cain coven

Garden full of coveted herbs, Gardnerian Craft verbs

Curve of the ball crystal, advisory missives insistent

In awe of the Ra prism, midsummer eve no dreaming

Belladonna and Librium hits like a grenade

Dionysian liberation unseemly, unseaming

Shedding metaphysical duality, manifesting insanity’s physical symptoms.

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I’m Christ of the back alley with black soled feet

Blood streaking from stigmata, investigate me for misconduct

Conducting business in my vestments, making bitch of presidents

My mansion like the first evil residence, zombies and shark denizens

Afrika Bambaataa expelled from the zulu nation, water from high places

Clanking when I flank them, drip glinting, hitting, and fitted chainmail

Got milk, so much milk got a chin pail fitted, string ‘em up and hang ‘em

Two guesses left, you say Z and X that’s hangman

Elbow turn and chest palm, that look, means hang back

I’m in the templum with known templars and masons

Attending School of Night lessons, me and Marlowe messing at class back

I’m with Raleigh in the hatchback with a batch of potatoes

Follow me up to Carlow on the radio

Fast Mazda goes blood from a slashed artery down Dartry Road

Crackling radio that’s dispatch, all units action, what’s practice for

Carnegie Hall metalpedalled, mind like need to talk about Kevin

Humid today, weather as heavy as the Melvins

Going past DIT Kevin Street

Elbow out the window smoking, girl in yellow elven

Sufficient fast get whiplash, out the window lads on the lash

I twist the west wing on my moustache

Keep talking like that I’ll pull out your lipring

A lot of leaf and not just the guttering

When I became Chief a lot of muttering

Find the rat fattening on my cheese

Flatten him with ease, reduct him to grease

I’m older than the footprints tattooing the oldbricks of Valentia Island

Mind poorly-minded is divided

I am confiding in you as a writer, seal your lips tight.