Alchemisland

Dick cheetah spotted from that moth I rode rotten with no johnny

I need mercury pills or else I’m a goner, loner life for my stauner

Into the murk with my pills, do you want it? No frills

My god lives under the hill, Pan reclined in Wind in the Willows

But did you know the author had bad luck with kiddos?

He hated his wife, and life, wished he was a widow

Not quite right since his first day, his troubled son napped on train tracks

Neck and back snapped when it came whistling down, clackety clack

Children’s authors go through torture to get the bag, to write one that clicks

To get the clicks and flick deals with Netflix

No chill, usually ends in bloodspills, but mad skills

With cooking, I don’t mean Christmas pudding or skillets

I’m under the thumb of whatever’s the next thrill

DJ pounding out Skrillex, taking soundings; who is willing

To be my concoctions next victim

Candyman how she licked him

Whole village, a lot of people

Devil deal to topple the steeple

Whole meal, you got a good deal.