Alchemisland

Heaven torn asunder Kevin born under thunder’s horn Heard were the herding hoofs of lore The Gods of yore shorn of name and reputation Must be reamazed by a votive blood allocation.

Heightened occasions require ceremony and lightning, firelighting In ‘pard flannel and lucre gathered from beaches along the channel The King happy-dull jumps the belled bulls Action expels the tug of his charismatic woes Bare-breasted, void-nested, her parlour a nest of poisons and shells Little yet of self Her trestle table carved with Nestor’s face, instruments…

Some vague blight Decimated harvests worldwide Thick smokes choked the sky Until only manmade light lit a life Life and living very different Little deference given to wise history Once the seas boiled Like the black-bellied cauldrons of old industry.

Princess-shaped holes in windscreens  Holds true which wins days, engleams Wrists, better conveys man’s glory. Erecting middle fingers  And launching fists at God’s face.