Alchemisland

Silence breaks silencingly like a dropped Bollinger bottle

Screaming, throttling the shoulders of one stubborn old goat

The old Full Throttle me is past prime

Now I am a ghost who rhymes.

Smashed wine end to silence

Let us return to that fate-forced moment

Which for many a worry-fraught sojourn have I feared, lost in learning

I saw the burning building of Me in the fern-girdled madness of Lear

The cheap Statoil bandaid of consensus reality as lived day to day

Ripped away, the underside gunk it left behind like a bruise on the eye

Of a battered wife who cries holding the too-stubborn knife

And goes back inside

Honestly convinced it will be different this time

Back to what I thought was a life

Having its back snapped

Sound like when my busy wife is thwacking back a willow’s advance

Man and mouse kin in how

Plans carefully-wrapped certainly will fail to happen

And will never come about.

Even if you never go out again,

Trouble stalks e’en leafy glen.