#neuralchemy

Rapid southgoing

An anvil grasper sledding down Mount Snowden, only clammier.

Deflated by ascent’s prospect

Trudged I, toboggan temper mine dragged behind like a hoplite delegged,

Carving odd and binding lines in the sludgy muck. Miles

Many and more a-come.

A life like a tribe laws require

Emptily medieval are mine

Confined to increasingly circumspect times

Those uncertain lines who derive their divine rights

From wolfen Assyrians with seared flesh diets

Twenty years watching leaves fall like unsteered spitfires

While pulling my beard. A lifelong sit tight.

What he bade bigger grew;

Lifelike shapes rose on mauve tails

Light and freightless as a barren babyless

Or a carriage to which Dick Turpin offered bag emptying terms

Smooth surfaces, no nails

Without rivet, marks of making, maker’s marks

These arks, with ne’ry a buffering moment

Start out across promiscuous stars

Through mysterious bores open like a starving’s mouth

Food-promised starlings set out.

In hopes of carving out new straits, new ways

To traverse a soundless maze some ancient race

Or their wiser maker, hath made

Stars that are eggs

Some wire-pregnant soarer laid.

Like nodes lanterning their own arrival

I waited a while and watched them glide guileful

As they eighted upon my rite-baited nightsky 

Pale stones skimmed masterly most across sable oceans

Some stars barded in bard-heart flame

Others pale and artful like fate-making bone

Puzzling glyphs they left which in order to read a lift was needed.

Weak as a reed, weak

Liked it lots so I put a ring on it, hoop locked

Monied like a soup prod

Don’t watch the nuacht for a true semblance of what’s going on

Gone beyond, stomping gombeens in New Rocks stolen new bought

From a blue haired goth as he got off the Luas at Charlemont

Constant comparison like Plutarch’s Lives, modern day Charlemagne

Holy sword, holy cape which retards Satan’s flames

Sought it from a sordid God, sorted, taking all you’ve got

Shotty for potting deer sawn off into something for putting fear

Megadeth

Hella chains, heavy chest

Young Jordan, no Gilead

Spear sporting, living Illiad

Houses like resorts

Spares south of north for the seasonal storms

Snow indoors, snow sorted like Dubai indoor sports

Sporting horses on shirts and bonnets

Sponsoring horses, thousands on it

Lost it, cry to Madonna, ask why bother then get back on it

Whiskey drunk ex hollering between mouthfuls of donner

Thirty three now I’m certy, done observing Dirty feet getting Jesus cleaned, Son as servant Cheap meal plainly served No dessert but the wine’s free from here to eternity Adding up counting beans, I’m the captain of one supreme team Strapping lad, I’m some lean meat fucking outta habit nympho rabbit  To keep on brand, she went Watership Down, my trips to town calamitous So I stay home…

Galling day, I was taken In this abrasive place shedding finer shape, scraped to bare graven Here shaking frail, faint growing, amazed how utterly spent I feel With only 33 turns of the wheel hardening my feet Better to tease the weakness all must fail to flee Once-vivid recall of appallingly spent days Lost now like dim patrons in a vim-sapping maze Built against the wisdom of jaded…

I’m unfit for human society Often, newly-sober folks turn to over-corrective piety But not me, brandishing my cheeky Cheshire Cat smile Once again delighted to be my own life’s pilot I washed my hands of my own old life, Pilate I threw my self-blooded pilum I tossed a match to a body pile outside Every face within was mine.

Apollo and python  A sporting lord And wielded change and lightning chains Who enjoyed cavorting with human sorts  Despite his wife’s jealous, green-tinged eyes blazing Queenly Athena, shed no fierce tears at your frieze’s fleecing Turn your molten heart freezing and curse the disruptor’s penis Cast shadows where the shoulder-stroking light of Venus lends warm feeling Upon the world’s…