Tmro the shakes on the laying of bricks
& a smithereened mind no plus-pill will fix

but now he’s Buddha x’ed with Aleister Crowley migrating spacetime, metamorphing the settee:

blink it’s a longboat aflame on the Volga,
blink again it’s a throne for an alien Pasha!

Tmro is nothing but migraine and puking
and the lads all day mocking & sniggering,

but now he’s Big Bang’s wise older brother,
a matter-magician who fishes in mirrors

& reels in the creatures of parallel spheres,
machine elves & mothmen & three-headed seers

who divulge that this real world’s a con & a veil
& present him The Stone, Sword, Crown, & Grail…

Tmro it’s back to the grind with a smack
& the old-sin-phantoms on an all-out attack

but now he’s juggling black holes on the Green
as he whirls through the aether of N-dimethyltryptamine.

Yep, tmro it’s concrete & barrow & kango & crane
while worms of past failures tunnel his brain,

Now blue blades of lightning branch from his tips,
now new Milky Ways streaming out through his lips….

Dave Lordan

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