Alchemisland

Strange days I’m upon them

Like fog roll on London cockrow

Strangle like you an anaconda

Hope bondage turns you on

Bury you in the potter’s field

Forehead streaked, Harry Potter features

Obscured by my hat peak, horror feature

Black lagoon creature

Eye and groin feast if my baboon slips his leash

Read a few of your poems

Copied pasted, clown-created, clone odes

No mixture like shit scones, my lines own

Like the deed holder, make you awe and moan

Like a man built for pleasure, labgrown

Doing yoga to fit into the hold, stowed close to shit I sold

Upon landing, my fantasy becoming a lived saga, met gala

How I show up looking top dollar, brother’s life, inshallah

Grimly I sip that grimace milkshake each morning

Gimli son of Gloin swinging my axe with glory

Blade and rune-banded haft gory, cute bandit

Chick magnet, bang like Dane Ironhand hammers the anvil

Frenched my gat, left a pink splatter on the wall in the flat

Gave myself up as the best beloved lamb’s fat to Saturn

Just when I think I can’t get madder, I evince occulted patterns

I follow them like dark-apporting lanterns

Man on MDMA asking for a sip of my Fanta, OK; jaw’s going like a mantis

Club is popping, DJ dropping consecutive bangers, Angerfist Kingsley samples

Action’s ample like Arnie’s output, smashed putting my foot in my mouth

In a jock slapping my pockets for my lost elfbar

Soft as an elf’s jocks, hope she won’t think of going south

She wants to go town, I’m southside bound so I bounce

She’s like Arnie in Predator, asking me to stick around

I’m outbound, mic drop Mike’s gone I’m out, bus stop dreamer queen of the 63

Even here up near Camden Street you smell the stink of the Liffey

It all lifts me up, I’m drifting like a zeppelin accepting it’s a city of grifters

Pintful power lifters looking vaguely threatening outside the thrift shops

Black pool that’s now hidden, one called Dyflin, where the ships stopped

It is all just Molly Mallone and chip shops, there must be more

I tour the block looking for portals, to outpour my adorations

I feel myself bored if not abhorred until, which exhorder did this to me

Me auld lovely Dubbelin City, ballads bubbling up inside me, crime doubling

What is a housing crisis when you can string up the government

Buying three books I won’t read in the Oxfam bookshop, Parliament Street

Boys from these back streets don’t look like the ones on your CD

Seedy streets, strong Dublinese in the old Liberties, full of Libertines

Taking liberties with me, black tracksuit the livery

Black tar fresh from the flat factory, hot from the vat, get it delivered me

Tease myself with it before injecting it, cuddle death like beloved bees

Covered me, smothering my dreams, I have no deeds and no needs

I am, for once, at peace, my needs are appeased and it’s greaze

Spoon bottom blackened from bunning venom, penning’s malevolent

Wolfgang Petersen how the story’s neverending

Suing them when I reach third entry’s end credits

I’m like Jesse Ventura, no time to bleed, Luas stop Stephen’s Green

Strand you on a distant groyne, from my coyne of vantage laughing

Watching gulls getting bolder as you languish

Watch your language or someone gets vanquished.