Alchemisland

I’m chewing but not on a fruit pastille

Tuned in to evil, I deserve the Bastille

Many misspent yesterdays, my powder like the home of an eskimo

I’m a cute hooer, pastiche of better chancers and pesterers at home

Who patrolled these sole-molested streets donkey’s years back 

I’ve got a scales, gauge swaying as it weighs a big payload of yack

PHD in sales grassroots, street level dirty nails operation

In trenches, dealing face to face with a dangerous population

These people have cravings they’re desperate to sate

Withhold their gravy, get shown the second way

Cop a baiting during the mayhem, withstand the storm

Stand back up and regain my form

Go forward throwing bombs, howling rebel songs

Asking a bleeding nose Garda “Which side are you on?”

Gummy and soup-favouring after a curb stomp

Crop harvest, taking hay in like ancient pagans back in the day

Place we store it stinks of florid freshener spray and strong haze

Mazes, rows of plants in vast pots cleverly planned each in its proper plot

A proper crop, my shopping list all crockery

Importing soil, purportedly to build a rockery

Shipped it, didn’t request a single document or docket

Made a mockery of them, honestly, shocking.