Tag: ireland
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Smoking With Her
Got so much blip we don’t pick up a dropped spliff Bill another piff, clean the screen like bottled Jiff Soon can’t hear the screen with the volume of the hiss Amount of spliffs it takes the piss Routine busted racecar it’s the pits Palindromes won’t save me Pallbearers to grave me Give it all…
alchemisland
420, alchemisland, alchemy, bard, bars bard, cannabis, creative writing, drug lit, dublin, expression, fantasy, fiction, greener, imagination, ireland, irish, irish writer, love, magic, marijauna, neuralchemy, poem, poet, poetry, rap, retarded bard, rhyming, romance, sex, short story, slang, weed, words, writer, writing -
WEEDSLEEPWEED
Call my poems a weed series About that plant dead serious Boys in town and got it, pick it up and let it fill me Many died for less I pick my poison let it kill me Penned with weed feeling Consuming not weed dealing for any peelers reading My shit pure as bells pealing …
alchemisland
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War Caint
Swan when I wear it, sworn when I swear it Pops when I don it, props when I Don it Head currently holeless like faulty donut Do not approach or blood splat yoghurt You’ll get reproached, sent home soaked Tell your blokes I’ll wet their coats Send redcoats flying back to boats But I’ve burnt…
alchemisland
alchemisland, alchemy, bard, battle hymns, creative writing, dublin, fiction, imagination, insults, ireland, irish, irish writer, neuralchemy, poem, poet, poetry, rhymes, war, words, writing -
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
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