Alchemisland

All day coded greetings, green handshakes, elbow grease

Graded, sprayed hay from China’s ill-maintained hyperborean

I’m Greek patient, in the horse bowels unbored, Zeus pleas repeating

Glad to take a seat after a shift on the street

On beat as the latch snaps, bad winds seethe in from east, threatening unseatings

Howling like a teething toddler weaning off the teet

The mirror deceives me, who is this wasting senior

Replete with pizza slice widow’s peak, where go do these hasty decades

My forked clay brow relays a life of worry and delay, age’s decay

It wasn’t always this way, in my heyday I was a warpainted pagan insatiable

The law-obeying were home praying

I was dragging on haze mayhem, entering dragons

Drinking flagons in advance of the racing flags wagging

I was driving, striving to control, a spraypainted station wagon

With a souped up engine going spaceship speeds, warping again

Call me paranoid but war pigs is playing for the second time tonight

Parroting the words of pamphlets, I would gambol if I wasn’t Hamlet

Gabber tunes pollute the Saloon at ear-raping volumes

Veering right, I hear the door scraping flamily the road’s midway markers

I’m floating in darkness above the car, onyx marble, invisible harnesses

I grab myself back, first to the backseat

I take a steadying drag off my fag

Flick it out the window, watch it bounce backward like Lucifer landing

A portion of highway where stacked mica-ridden boulders form canyons

Wire holds them back and into place, preventing rockfalls from happening

Grappling with myself, who is that sitting in the back, diaphanous shadow

Eventually exeunt the motorway, stop in a small town to smoke a zoot

Lean somewhere quiet, lick then light it, delectable fire

It’s Friday night or thereabouts, town is full of bints and clowns

Stumbling around, full of Druids and Brat

Weapon left back in my vessel, battle-tested baseball bat called Betty

I see gabblers babbling like brooks in Epping

This land is just for Paddy, one is saying

Sap never slaps or slaying but not today

This quest is pure conveyance, increase my money’s valence

Jules Verne how many leagues beneath

These fiends and me unkin, different species, they’re indecent

I’m dazzling in sequins, delivering sleep-you sequences of

Sentences frequently, I might repeat but the keys have no equal.

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Deleted Slack this Sabbath

Cold outside as Abbath’s lyrics

I run a bath of black milk for Elisabeth Bathory

I live a life of fast thrills in truth because I’m empty, finished can

Killed further along the tram tracks

Rolling joints faster than a chess master checkmates

Dominance on display, the dishonest rudiments on a rolling tray, oddments and elements

Eyes wide as Odlums in the doldrums trying to solve a problem properly, obtain property

Make my way up that way, checking flood plains on maps

A nice quiet country lane

Where children can play, planes would rarely pass that way finding no passage that way

In what way can the words on the page be made to make a living stage, all players

Manifestations of an innermost, hesitation at the hinted way, the prospect of chase

Of a lack of chasteness, putting paid to my flinching away from flirtatious touch

Erotic returns, exotic currents, the occurrence of worms turning courteously.