Alchemisland

Dark green stripes on my light green jacket

Cats slipped the bag, Jacks out his box

My head is bollocksed, bopped with a hatchet

Axe head for breakfast if you cause offence

Your incursions cause a fence

Make the great wall average

My force is ten, Navarone

Squatter forced his way in, never going

Water stains like Jesus’ face, all praise

Rolling in hay, knees can get grazed

Kids my face popping up all over the place

Raised without me, no face no genetic trace

More fertile than a field fallow two Falls

I am a true false, lies roll forth, no pause

Back size massive can’t hack it gotta jack it

Where’s the jacks?

When I’m close to climax, swearing like Father Jack Hackett

I’m in last century’s lucious fashions, faceted gems flame aspect

Hunted skulls mounted, shells and chimaeras behind perspex

Chinese urns full of necromantic ashes, Geisha’s brocaded sash

And jade tea set