Alchemisland

I’m buking up for the comp 

Bong romp called the Iron Lung 

Crop from Boston, mouth of cotton

I wanna be the first Irish champion

I smoke the crop then the dust

I want a bulging bag of chronic

Parts to whole like Bionicle 

Trainer says shouldn’t get me hole 

If I win this, I can wean off the dole

I’m going underground, like a mole.

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Smoking tons of loud, fill a whole crowd

One mouth, one crown, who’s proud

Stoned for forty hours, who’s counting

Smoking blunts hourly as training

I got an Asian accountant

Blazing by the fountain 

My Alsatian Raymond allowing 

Me to rub his belly

Hotter than Delhi today

People there amount equal to my pocket’s pennies.

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Red hot 

Dashing, hedgejumping 

Going roving, bounding through hedgerows 

Undergrowth is overgrown

Nature’s leafed overcoat.