Alchemisland

Intention clear as St Moling’s Well

Can’t mollify this swelling, beef size of a wellington

Putting my back into it like a wellie toss, cumming on the belly of course

I’m the first, second and third course, in so deep looked like willy loss

Only floss the teeth you wanna keep, my tendency is to creep through life

Make her dizzy like too much Hennessey, dream Kadath’s sole denizen

Eyes on them, routing at Helm’s Deep then pursuing to the ford of Isen

Ford under ice like a behemoth rising, shadow immensely sized 

Wearing three rings, hat matching everything else I’ve got on

One belonged to Solomon, one to Valentino, one to Sauron

Tree rings like guess my age she says twenty eight to be safe

John 28 29 do not be amazed when the dead raise undying for trial, gyring beguileds

Skyward from graves, made prostrate on heaven’s lapis flagstones

The goodly saved, the malicious razed, condemnation of the ancients

Dead an age unsettled, awaiting fate, anxiety of the unknown date

Those whose hard hearts wore grated gates to impede angelic ambulations

Those phlegm-coloured with vicious envy, whose satan-leant ear drums

Heard overtures wrought from ordeals in sin-zeal’d black churches

Birch, furze, fern and fog along the bog front like a drake’s cough

Stomach contents fire, tyres and licence plates until England breaks in half

Arms aloft shouting Tiocfaidh ár lá gach lá, hawk, spit down on the law

In the long hallway, doorways to always or otherplaces, cascading faces

Facing down time, staring at the clock, looking for a rewind button

Unwind spliff a mile long higher than a hundred man pile on

Looks like a hoplite’s pilum, lighter flame pied blue and orpiment

Holding the spliff, tine, huffing it fast rinne mé paint thinner how it strips

Me of my winter feelings, skinpeeling blaze rips away my face

Revealing my wreathless rippling centre, demons eeling, agony of being

Dodgy dealings with the king of demons, bleed to sign the deed

Thirty three initials, torturing three new initiates in the lodge of Isis

Telling talkers to suigh síos or walk, can’t suffer these eejits

This fiveskinner keefcious, delicious, mouth drier than tissue

Not high enough to forget my issues, hate myself so diss you

Big thrill when you miss and I hit you, they’d call me the professor in prison

I’m in the kitchen listening like a confessor

I followed the recipe to the measurement but this pork is tough as a Mexican

Porco loco right, takeaway tonight.