Tag: poet
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Gelid have to wear a geansaí smoking ganja outside, looking jealously in at the houseplants
Prodigy when it comes to violence, sort it in one night Wiser now I’ve licked salmon Big swigs from the flagon Two digs for the colour on the back of a wagon New digs, back of a catalogue, cat’s fattened On foot, do it analogue Hot foot it when the cans are gone Frosty out…
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Million mirror bedroom
I’m a testament to weaponised vanity What happens if you anesthetise with too much regularity Can’t stand these cunts sat with me, understand you, Larry David, clasped hands prayer fashion Wished I was at the gaff, cat sat with me.
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Table scraping for a pathetic makings full of lint and old dinner atoms
Noided off Colombian, no spliffs Only dabs rigs or something new fangled Once it’s legal all the weed priests can try every angle to numb you Sometimes life just has your number Tried twisting out, only worsened the tangle Brought the worst out, but takes two to tango.
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Green skies over Tinahely
Polar weather on my keys Solar activities, see a borealis greener than my weed Backed by leafless trees if you peeped yesterday evening.
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The first wine, which only self-inflicted violence releases from the recycled bottle of my mottled skin
This makings couldn’t be taken by a quaker Have them quaking, motto I say’s seize the day That is until I wake and bake, blotto before AM eight, lay Down and didn’t make a sound until the sun went down All my appointments I missed out Sword down point with wrist out Trying to turn…
Alchemisland 