Alchemisland

Bad paring leads to broken pencil, bad for bedtime Tearing is bad like the fashion wasn’t tensile All my utensils rusted red, old musty bucket full of grit Butterfly or a bulletbelt, soon taking flight someone’s name inscribed on the side Silken welkin, lights at the bottom of the well of heaven Missiles occlude comet…

Rowing a leaky boat through the world’s throat GOAT at owning, all-knowing I cut to bone Equipped with what a dead man alone knows Knows his runs, dips down avoids congestion Chest congested, phlegm there nested All sanity has flown the nest Flat a mess, grease-stained vest Won best dressed in a Faces of Death…

Place is a kip Saying that since before 1066 Danes on ships full of nails and slaves in the bay Can’t tame Dublin but they’ll try for an age, invasions Before eventually settling, aliens no longer, gave us some blondes Didn’t make us a lot bronzer, they were pale, hammer and tongs Gave them pale…

Red hot undercovers standing next to us Connections with the blessed dead Connections on chalkboards: the drugs, the docks, my digs, that bread Tomorrow is the empty promise of better days ahead Junkie on the couch shaking like he’s tased, half-dead After taking only a single taste Bong hits like hitting a gas grenade, tears…

I don’t need an alliance Battle lines and lion roars Assassins moving in nighttime corridors Silentfloored like unfurling silk nightmares Orders from the Old Man of the Mountain His youthful fountain accounts for the amount  Of clout he has with youths, the clownshow Commences.