Alchemisland

Unlikely those who sign on dotted lines to fight me do so lightly

I want cream, not clotted kinds, want filthy lucre and fifty wives

I want dragonfire back in my belly as in my windblown prime

I want to feel alive from now until the end of my time

At fallen Hideoaschimos’ snow-shouldered mountain shrine

Kneeling in sleet with teeth gritted

Ever-blizzard slopes, ever-winter nights

None of these roads ever gritted

Like ground down diamond powder, they glisten

Snakes sewn from mithril, crystal medusa, soon to reduce

Mankind to pursuers of instinct’s settlement

Samael on the bough he calls the battlement

He says applebiting invites man’s betterment

Better men mighta triumphed but not I, Godspiter

I take a rueful, ruthless bite, don’t spit any out

Serving the demiurge, purging the world of stranger kindness

Devising all kinds of new ways to die, unknot life’s Gordian twine

False hopes for dope pigs, a trough of false diamonds

To show the Baron of all Urchins and evil urges how far I’ll go

I’ll eat two iphones before the lurching altar in St Joseph’s church.