-
Sold Souls
Three lines I nosehole it Head swims I no sold it Hopes pinned I no souled it Ahead of the school I swim I’m lemon sole No cause to force feed, I’m so in need My head feels heavier than Mr Creosote If it’s bagged now I say free the dope If it’s blue light…
alchemisland
alchemisland, alchemy, art, bars, books, creative writing, cthulhu, fiction, gold, imagination, immortality, ireland, magic, neuralchemy, occult, poem, poet, poetry, soul, words, writer, writing -
The Agent – IV
They sent Harpenden. Him, of all people, conversation with whom was a form of punishment so cruel and unusual the Khmer Rouge would rat you out to Amnesty. He was a posh Australian who drank Fosters, called evening arvo, and who disliked foreigners to a confederate degree. He looked like a cross between the muscular,…
alchemisland
action, adventure, alchemisland, alchemy, assassination, author, cobalt byron, conversation, creative writing, dialogue, dublin, exciting, expression, fantasy, fiction, humour, imagination, ireland, irish, irish writer, neuralchemy, novella, prose, short story, shorts, spy, spycraft, story, thriller, words, writer, writing -
The Agent – III
The canopy cooled him in temperature and temperament, he felt sullen beneath sagging boughs. Branches like curved umbrella handles, as if trees driven mad by heat sought to drive their own branches through their heads to stop the simmering solar voice. Inner measuredness came, or was foist, upon him, echoed in his equidistant steps. In…
alchemisland
-
The Agent – II
Whenever coffee is imminent Byron is struck by nostalgia’s slow-moving truck. Something about beans falling inside a clear tube atop a coffee machine helps him dive in, make an Aquarius of his Venus in furtive Virgo. Brown, flaky beans packed close like a vial of diminutive worlds in the hex-stained hands of a mad alchemist.…
alchemisland
-
Baphomet’s Belle
Belle of the Styx Look sick in triple six Her sandalwood aroma Her hands without arthritis Joseph of Armitithea a carpenter Knew how to handle wood. Bring wood and oil for pouring This poor soul to release From the abundance of her lust, her appetite no man could cease For this disease we the Just…
alchemisland
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Alchemisland 