Wednesday 17 February 2021



Ogham no escutcheon Rome ruled the skyline

refracted in a bough of drink cassock under dominion 

awaiting knight’s armour'd sac: 

a swooning sideline of red faces 

untouched heart of moss 

lichen starch & mock Tudor coda

very little Celtic blood left over

in this appanage of carraigín 

urine inside the Rose, 

Planter and the Gael suppose

I am your heart-to-heart pricked on

like a Pinhead in the wasteland 

sent pall and spoiling back for a fight 

laying in their wool milk for hours 

et mon droit cruciform on damp sand

sold outside church gates 

commemorative not symbolic

more magnificence brought low, 

and that’s why I used Ripolin!

lustre to yr murder before Gods

sectarianism over an open fire 

all blood passes under guardianship 

langued ramrod to your peace 

lined home or rule rubble barricade

worthy of being held in its signal of kindling flame 

or shot in the face? 

O bending verge God is my right 

to stick on Lilly and blow a 10 foot 

hole in London Stock Exchange. 

Today the British spirit surges 10-points in share prices

w/ painted buckler and plumy chests 

porpoise oil the trading floor traffic 

& environmental zone bolts 

the door inn powerhouse spoils 

upper vest raining masonry 

and glass on Iveco Ford Cargo 

to the table heavy with song 

the venerable memorial pale bent shape 

of natural need, hunger can be gelignite 

or 'in disgust and its opposite 

is reflected the whole of history' 

a surcoat of white silk mantle lined with red

thats yr appanage handful of little rock

to their coronet of pectins water stock 

spite handshakes & cured claps 

within a lumen scratched on off

mucosa or vomiting in the Roman Fashion

bursting something like in your chest imagine 

resisting an ulcer of scarlet 

livery to rend tomorrow breaks

in via the garden fence