Alchemisland

Astute student of Astarte

Restarted my education

Restated my intention, to enter legend

To be mentioned next to great men

I wish upon a star day, I woke up before cockrow on a Saturday

To prove my slavish dedication to betterment, only peppermint

Tea after eight, finish my plate without delay, no minty after eights

No squinting no sunshine past half past eight, end of summer break

I want to be a target for fortune’s archers

I want the life of an artist, buttresses above arches

Views of marches and further marshes, all four margins

Vexing enemies and friends alike

Shooting for the starters

The chief, the Duke, rebuke them all in their own halls

Accuse them of knowing fuck all from atop my horse

Concussive force and that’s just my tongue enforcing

Don’t force me to make a fist and fatten your lips like preggers tits

Lost plot like someone in the BBC reused the tapes

Soft spot I can only express it on the page

Billy Corgan like despite all my rage

I can still feel the warmth of grace encasing

Gazing from open casement to grey skies

Great grey divide, awash with bridgeless sighs

High towers spiral skyward, girderic growth spurt

Platemail tantrum sound of trains taking off

Smoky afterburn of miasmic underworld

Turned worms gnawing tunnels underground

Hell kept in with a girdle, gurgled world

Whispered word on which a delicate bauble twirls

A burning flag unfurling above a faceless girl.