Alchemisland

Conor used to talk slick quick spin kicks Left hand even a pinprick ditch consciousness Now he’s always on coke, floating feeling Indoor shades morning shakes  One more line all it takes to take lines all day Dispelling doubts by out loud shouts Unholy sounds from the outhouse Demon names in the shout outs Three…

Is all the paper readied for the flood that’s coming Promising to engulf all Dublin, last Pale railing remnant rubbled Dogs can smell trouble as they can tumours and coming thunder Storms, storms coming, fierce tempests hereto are summoned By clans of black wizards under an angel’s auspices, all pitiless Pisces Seeing into minds.

Body surely can’t stow another coffee You’d be wrong to imply that mockery Sting you no dock leaf, power level Battersea Eating a battered eagle and seagull sausage for tea, dear Deary me this fucking place is dreary Rain like God’s tears, two tier policing Streets a rat wouldn’t eat in In a meeting thinking…

Shot a man on the helipad Greasy hands grasping at the heli stands Madman’s regime collapsing at cop attack Half stash, coke and cash caches, dashed laughing  Drumming the handle of my magnum against the back Of the pilot’s headrest, he flights the bird, fights the urge To desert and report me for multiple murders…

Write whatever comes to mind One creates but can’t control the fire Hate me more than the humour from Borderlands Shut my trap had enough of Claptrap, next warning handback Glove a mouthshutter, slap a man in public after a slanderous utterance Asking for duels down the pub, cloaked and wearing jewels No submissions, knockouts…