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Clung to my lung
Crow in my socks, always stocked Coughing lots, deathdoor knocker and coffin dodger Some dodgy lugies I’ve hocked, lungfroth Hockney’s Drinking strong scotch Couldn’t walk a straight line for cops, tried to dodge Looked more like hopscotch But they didn’t find the bodge in my Neon Dodge Quite a night time scare, sans Podge and…
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Snache
Snake tattoo on my arm Cruising around town, looking for parking Avoid me if you’re looking for a bargain My crow hits slow, like Mick Parkin You’re fake like your name was Arman You’re on the take, social welfare department I cut your artery and ketchup arted my apartment.
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Impossible cartography
From somewhere, a barking dog reports his starving tattoo. Insects thronging honeyed trunks Shouting like mid fight Ray Longo They drink it in the Congo; I don’t mean pints of Umbongo. Sure we’ll ferry you downriver, journey’ll be long though. Faster if you double the dollar though. Ripped off and knowing it but we’re finally…
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Congoing
One foot wrong and I’m gone. We’ve absconded the built’s mettle-wilting favours Traded laziness for the bilge, the thicket, and its perspirant labours. The river long, robed in fog, laughs longest as it rolls along; wet comet. Solid-seeming silt paths circuit the sides Boglike they give what inspires fires, but what sinks inside dies, tithes.…
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No starters
My whole life’s the part Where I don’t order a starter When everyone else does, so It takes one hour for my food to arrive. Everyone else’s grub looks really good. Me, starving meanwhile. Worst of all, Guy I most hate’s got a meal looks way better than mine. I mutter through toasts, no goodbyes…
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Alchemisland 