Alchemisland

Ears smothered as the muzzle discharged Untroubled by my charge Fist through a stained glass picture of some saintly visitation No scar though Can’t maintain being sober long enough to start the car Breaking shells leaving shards, no escargot Through thin walls the sound of muttering The Lives of Others, Dublin and London Truths up-bubbling…

Drinking port no stormy Polished off four Dark ‘n’ Stormies Now I’m shaking with dark stories Imbalances in my hormones In bastards where my sword goes Massive totals, gross looking Khaled Finally back in plus, Jhonn balance Through a hair’s breadth crack, sneaking out the back Thank God I stuck to salads.

Hopeless suing for favour Poseidon lies to sailors Soon below waves so much fine tailoring The once-mighty now low-lain, as the Bible says Light-bright Marconi machines going all day Messages in seaman’s code: our souls do save Titanic’s side torn open, open goal for anyone hoping It’s listing, on the ropes getting fisthit by Liston…

Her coat still on Giving a soapy handjob to a bearded John Wheel of fortune, wagon wheels, deodorant; let ’em roll on She says “Goodnight mister.” Forget the Tom City looks bombed A sense of eerie, unwanted calm Drink to her pain A miraculous balm.