Alchemisland

What lends meaning a moment

I am a parchment-lacking Golem in a Prague apartment

My empty head compartment hoping for consonants

Once intermittent pain becomes constant

I am not insane but in my own life acting as some alien

Interfering from without, I am veering ever further south, pale 

And grey the long and silent line I’m trying to reach the head of

Two sprout back when I cut the head off

It comes like violence, shambling narroweyed and sudden

I’m at times so silent, solemn and sullen

With hate and bile smothered utterly

That I despise my own mother for bothering me

With her care and time; for bearing me to life 

At times I can face no other

Enmity to my only brother

I am a gollum, riddles in the dark

Affixed to one joy, my precious

I am anything but present

Once pleasant, now partial

Mischievous, ill-conceived, only begotten darkling

My heart marked in onyx is of darkness hell-hearkening

My light gone over with black marker

Meetings with the fiend in my diary, Johnathan Harker

Wrong tree I bark up

Long tree I spark up

Man’s battered, one clatter and bloodsplatter

Everything’s golden, like someone broke my bladder

I’m on way up the Jacob’s Ladder 

Kick your ass in the hereafter

I’m a hero from a gloryless war, lost my hands

Wrists grip my begging cup, uniform in tatters

Sigil of my battalion frayed, seen that action

They whisper sorry but they’re buck passing

The wind is glacial, the bankfront palatial

I set up my sleeping bag, settle for anguish

Two tours, can’t even get a four quid sandwich

Changed my thoughts

Things bought have never happiness wrought

Life, I should take more from this

Used to take scraps, now fistfuls

Outcome assured, a fixed sport

Getting head from a fine Taurus

Dublin for one day only, hot as a resort

Mixing drinks alchemical retort

Going at it, two teams one sport

Cum like a gunshot recording, my mind a sunshine recorder

She has a bag on order, she has my sack as Hors d’oeuvres

Not my bird but heard the word and couldn’t curb enthusiasm

I’m well experienced in tomfoolery, Mathuselah, sit in my lap

Show you the pleasant maths, maps to orgasms you haven’t had

Love that’s confusing and contusing and pleasantly abusive

Alphabet of Desire on your body writ entire

Tear at your clothes with the strength of Tyrian Herakles

Nicolas Cage how I release the B’s 

Taxman demanding receipts

I cannot thereof confirm receipt

Message not received

Won’t let serve a summons to me

I’m over the back gate, winded steam

I’m at the black gate, working the black seam

Day is obscene, fearing my black dreams

Working but struggling to keep up

Overflowing, lip of my golden cup