Alchemisland

Working that magic 

Intention essential

Vocalise to manifest 

Smoke will rise when planet’s dead

Lit up looking peak

Lighting done by Roger Deacon 

Bright as a Beacon, think Brecon 

As it was anciently, in Britonic Albion

An east seeking aid summons flame

I hear the smallest violin playing

That bit from the Moonlight Sonata

The moon is grey, we share a gaze

A green glaze seems to claret 

Half its hemisphere enflamed

Made my way here to kneel before Bede

Hoping venerable I’ll be on distant nights

When my hair losing sheen whites

Like the bite of winter 

Frost in the hay 

I am first to the day 

Praying at the stable 

To John Barleycorn, his wheaten cape

Kings are forced by a blade 

But are made, forged, apaper 

No rapist secreting papist

Is getting here without paying the piper

Time has come for me to speak 

Lights are bright 

Life of Brian how I come out 

Everyone shouts, bouncing

Like a sneaking closer sun

Have to lower my hat peak 

Lowering hands, stopping speaking  

Wrote my name but it rubbed off 

Not the type to mug off

Most of it I shrug off

But a camel back breaks, stood up.