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The King Must Have Intercourse With A Horse
Mass to grove gods given in the deep motte, ashes impressed onto the brow and chest in blessing Twisting trees like matted hair on a woodwose breast, the sacred whore undressing The crown-conferring horse is led into a storm of golden confetti Her setting mimics that of a horse inviting, a cover of shear netting…
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Old Bickering
Neighbours around Lough Neagh won’t spare a cup of tae Eel pickers say they remember the first farmers when they came Or as they would put it, when they invaded and began inveigling Nine pints or eight it takes before they break their silence and bloviate Down in Foley’s downing pints with ties off, they…
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Citadel of the Autarch
Up in the northern reaches Breaches in the mountains Through which Ascian armies file Alien crafts patrol the skies, without disguise.
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The Book of Invasions
Farmers say Eel pickers around Lough Neagh Descend from Hunter Gatherers, whilst they Descend from Neolithic farmers, those whose grave markers Astound, yet drawing remark millenia later Evidence of life here thirty three thousand years ago, I don’t remember a masonic period before the ice age This old race were dark skinned, blue eyed, in…
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UpAllFuckAll
Pinting up all hours Fine thing calls, powers Out for a Up with the Lark Walk in the Talk of the Park. Up all hours fuck all going on Ad for Alton Towers, old style blower no logo in foam no feds on phone Rotating sim Slim Charles how I survive shit despite a hundred…
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Alchemisland 