Alchemisland

Bring up green phlegm, triple six, one six and a fifteen up since then

Second she’s up have her rolling a blem

She can’t refuse me, fellow drug abuser

Neither a lunatic nor a loser but nothing else soothes us

In sooth I know not why I am so sad

Men in black suits sitting in a black van outside, listening through a satellite

On a saturday night, hoping I expound on my plans enough to take to trial

Fox guile how it takes more than a while to pry apart my lips, I never smile

Attribute that to Saturnine aspects in my astral file, astrological guy

That’s how you know I’ve got more than two eyes

Runes for prosperity power washed onto my drive

Protective talismans, scrying stones and midnight shriving

I never touch the wheel, leave that to my weirdo driver

Seeds of Evil I planted last year grow into queenly trees

On my knees to please her, querent gets teased

The omens are anything but easy to understand

Hard as the back of a pimp’s hand

She twists me, reinstraps on my gland

Battered badly, she’s a goddess glad-handed

Hands me a gat, says use it when I get antsy

Spliff narrows down further from the tip

Inhale it until I’m tipsy almost tripping

All my sixes tripling, sweeter than Mr Kipling

Suite at the Hilton, heels on, swordburial, hilt in

Wearing only what goes below a kilt

Living off thrift, the prince of goodwill

Most swill but some is good milk

Smoke billows from my joint end, resting as fog on the barrow downs

Sudden trip, flipping over in the bed, wanna wake up in Paris tomorrow?

Walls a palsy of peeling plaster, water stain shape apparition at Fatima

Promise her that speaking facts, sticking at it, makes my wallet fatter

She wants it faster, most of me is invisible dark matter, hound bounding after

Rabbitscent in their smellers, I am a threshold dweller, fella on the edge

Either void or success ahead, trying to forge ahead with a dead leg

I see poems more wooden than a pirate’s leg receiving praise

People begging to publish them, humping their legs

I spend all day hellpenning sentences, like tally round as an egg

Hopped out of my crypt to ask for a drag off a spliff

Begging for dregs, rag bedraggled botherer gypsy raggle taggle

Song that played at my marriage, man struck by an arrow

How I gain a sudden sense of purposeful direction

Thrillmaker the purple penciltopper of my erection

My diction is half genius, half addiction

Coughing horrors into the sink in the kitchen

Praying to Hekate, god of oceans and witches

Save nine with your timely stitches

People are starting to notice the rips

The creaking hinges, the dripping that warps the floorboards

My fortress scarce befits a lord of my order

Playing Mary had a little lamb on my recorder

Slitting my wrists, submerging in bathwater

Some urgent matter I’ve forgotten about

Most days most like an ash tray

Someone straighten me out, bring forth a man lathe

Neither lazy nor crazy but partly deranged

Inherited pain, inherited rage, inherited trauma infects the page

Each day reading one page from the life of a sagely saint

Wish we go back to when the world was ancient

A single day in my life exhausts all patience

I’m a penitent on pilgrimage through the difficult Sen’s Fortress

Roll in the mud, knees brown as a nursery rhyme cow

We’ll at float I was told by the clown but I am no boat, instantly drown

I was at the back of the class trying to be a clown

My rhymes are like experimental munitions from Porton Down

Designed to bring down enemy Babylons

Everytime deep trouble I double back, leave you lacking pal or paddle

Up shit creek, white jocks got streaks, white lace docs on the streets

Shouting two tier policing, I shed two tears for lost decency

Then I aim my desert eagle beam on a bald brow presently creasing

Furrowing as I take one step forward, shoot, bullet a brain mole burrowing

Headshot dead is it brummie Leon Edwards or junkie William S Burroughs

On furlough despite an economy on turbo, smoking janky turbots of herb

Coming going talking of Michelangelo, transforming during the Angelus

Twenty murders no suspects had to call in Angela

Bury you if you don’t pass it

Owe me hound you, Bassett

Bertie Bassett how my beans every flavour

Hand me your plate and I’ll fill your plate, digestion is painful

Deception now plain, too late, life erased by my poison mouthfuls

Asking my son Henry where he’s been all day, taking to the field of play

At the end of the game, scoring eight goals in fifty seconds, day saver

Free kicks they ask me to take them, freaky birds ask me to sate me

I play with them like action figures, hot as the stone where a lizard basks

Answer nothing I’m asked, hand up asking to leave class

Someone asks me for a hall pass as I pass, I glass them

Leave them carved up like American Iraq, quick attack

How I act and query after, clean up required aisle six

All who see it get sick, those who don’t I recruit sharpquick

Is it God or my inner monologue prattling on

Convincing me my present is merely prologue

To a long life of prose and poems and light-hogging

Good hands but nothing fancy, drilling on pads

Having championship belt fantasies in my squalid bachelor pad

Open the presses and it’s all lean beef and batchelor’s beans

Flicking beans, separating the Heinz from the own brand

Bags from Aldi inside bags from Tesco

Bags I’m carrying have policemen tarrying

Outside the house, vultures circling carrion

I’m Carrie Fisher after her third line of cocaine that day.