Alchemisland

Barely time to dress, leave looking on fleek

Scribing, writing treatises on daylight’s nature

I can’t sleep without feeding on my tincture

I take it in my teeth cave like the mama teat

And suck until I’m succoured

Looking at acres from every angle

Looking at feet, Tarantino onlyfans

I have a holding and big plans for a grow operation

I’m in the station withholding, repeating lawyer or nah

Are you a lawyer or not? Are you a man or a mouse?

I’m like Tom Sawyer on the lam, someone else doing the job

Whitewashing fences while I’m weakening defences via gob

When it gets hot, I got problems, I think of Job’s promise

About staying faithful, never relenting to the hateful

Eight sefirot between me and God, at Yesod measuring the distance to Hod

So many bricks hauled in my hod, brought them to Babylon for Nimrod

I’m wearing hooded vestments praising Amun Ra, sun moon stars atop

Divine pattern rarely aligns with my plan, all my patter is haram

Many irons many fires, manifesting high desires

I’m not much for fine wine or dining or driving in fast cars into a fastfurious horizon

I’m one of those guys who is never surprised at unkindness, low expectations a pride

If I had enough money, I’d find myself somewhere in the countryside, sinister smiling

Far from the town, from others, from electricity pylons, and the city is a dog pile

Wreathed in corrosive fogs and smogs, it’s gone to the dogs and been a while

I’d be away from it all, me and my crystal ball talking

Ducking beneath my desk if someone’s nearby walking

Anything to avoid small talking, I’ve got a big portion

Of plan-aborting greenhouse god, inhaling greenhouse gases

I take the wife of an assailant, better plainly, take her to the O-zone

Lay her, play her, say a prayer she doesn’t get pregnant, then leggit

Legit but I’ll quit, DNF pile half of english lit, legate and primate

In an unsteady climate, unlikely ladders can be climbed

Wake up one morning to find the stateful houses occupied

By spies and spides and spiders and those without spines

Take a big drag, cough up the goz

Salary bad because you’re not the boss

Move over Springsteen, I’m the spring-heeled quill fiend

Convert you damascene to a believer with my pleasing ether

In my north room beavering away, Aoife reading in my gaze

Back garden on these summer days a golden glade

Flies alight from tossed fox food, magpies rude in attitude

Eat without gratitude but the flattering vixen always flicks

Her gaze to me and fixes thereto before leaving

A prettier picture one could not paint with Djinn’s wishes

Her tail swishing as she dips to eat, slow and priestly and knowing

Utterly heroic from knowing me, unafraid to show me when you need feeding

My garden here you have made like an Eden, breeding starlings between trees

Four in all but often three only for meals, concealed in the bushes

Knowing the times of my alarms, they are crafty beyond

Sometimes, lying flat to the ground, the vixen like a proud housecat

Astounds me with her calmness, balmed in the sun, burnt orange

Evertwitching ears like pitches readied for setting tents

Blent with the spring-rendered canvas, a sound and alas

She is away bounding through the grass, a bonny lass.