
Oh, glorious, glorious gloom!
You give me so much more room
To manoeuvre
My strange, windy ways
I’d much rather an underworld
To a glittery sky palace;
Give me those burning pathways of fire
Those strange canopies of skin
From unknown bestials derived
It is a horrid factory of immaculate earth
Churning out planets in manufactured succession
The torment of tears
In every galactic eye
I ascend the bruised mountain
Searching through its scarred face
To find the erotic teachings of the past
This is my bestiary – my own private menagerie
Housing monsters and gryphons
Both shewn and showed
Down the musky, dusky husk go I
Into the perfume of Empyrean
To steal the stars from their own night owls
And teeth plucked straight from the mouth
Of the pearly, opalescent ocean
Thereat, I will plunge into
The Cascade of my potion
Dribbling into the furnace
And the fetid potluck
I swear has alchemical powers:
First the Dragon – then the Fly;
Second the Tiger – next Magpie;
Crossing across the roof of the world
To join with the moss
And the lossiest Loess
Ah, Frantic Medievalism!
Medievalism ornate and deformed!
Take me back to your DARK AGES
When books were pillows
And the sacred castles of Oddiyana
Were still ariot
With treacherous claws
But to the archfiend and the nemesis
Subdued in wrath by designer sedatives
Are now only wending their way
Through the Tartarus of Modernity:
Old People’s Homes
Arguing about who
Last saw the TV remote
And whose dementia
Is progressing the fastest
And the worst
“I’ve forgotten twelve thousand more gigabytes
Of chaotic data than you!”
Exclaims lusty Belial,
Twisting his sandwich
Into a tridental narrative
“What?” says Satan, subdued
His is brain is now only
A tuna fish sandwich
And he thinks he still sees his children
Though they died long before he ever did
It’s a sad state of affairs
When demons need enemas
And harpy-faced nurses
To put spittle on their
Unraging bones
Still Medievalism howls
In every village
Of the British and the Welsh
Wherever crows still rule
With their iron caws
And their iron claws
But I have lost my marbles completely now
So I tuck myself back in
Inside my own inviolate scrotum
And within Involution’s allure
Mark off the beginning of the day