Tag: spilled poetry
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Inner City Oldtime
Our own tongue throat stranger And failing to nourish will or may perish We pause, wishing to answer betters in Irish Cannot know a lost language Vanishes, we answer in English Less than swill of which our Liffey consists. What is Irishness What is native wit? Slack jaws guffawing Slenting houses built from haunted bricks…
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New jungles
Machete in the busy sweaty wrist of a muscle-riven junglist Horse-hung statues riderless, unbridled Our guide won’t stop keeps chopping Frightful jungle corridor alive with raw stingers Dangers for those who linger Concourse of unseen watchers like a haunting, Amazons reborn Self-highting Brides of Spite crudely bedight with breast bared uncaringly If they ride down…
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Pissed up pagan
If you chance to take a glance over see a man whose not sober Not quite soulless but his prayers groaned go to silt-bellied Sobek Piss off a pagan you get your guts garlanded over a henge You’ll get wrecked with my neolithic vengeance, mediaeval weapons Know you pissed off a pagan When aches and…
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Liquids displacing
Pies all mine, lord of rhymes And this writing’s all time Writing all the time Ink like navy snail slime spiral climbing a schizophrenic ladder I’m clad in just a warm leatherette and your promise claddagh You can call me dadda, I’m a mad bad dangerous to know Dada artist Cracking and frying eggs on…
Alchemisland 