From hell, well now make room for Leopold Bloom
Who sat and squat in the outside lavvy, does think
Upon Molly, larval eruptions come to mind, behind
The rock, waste, the orange red tiles, wallpaper
Peeling, modernism is morganite,a jewel of Fregean logic,
A fracture of suffocation, buried in a heap of anxiety Of influence,
Hubble scoped the past and future
Starry-eyed, the spectroscopy of the alien,
Thus it in a quantum joke, leaps to a conclusion,
The fault-line read, way ahead of the mordant comedy
That rubs the literature the wrong way, taking the shine
Off the romantic and the god awful, neoclassic
You thrash away in the toilet still, something kidney
Shaped looms, Hawaii , then the lovely topography
Of good old molly, in the rubble of your getting the gist,
The petrine poetic takes an ugly and sinester twist
Turns the urine into gold, ask any street alchemist
For this the empire is destroyed, and graphites cousin
Stuffed in plural, into the pocket of the thief – winner
Takes all, the best friend, is Anita, loose the way did we?
The bronze horseman is brassed off, the semantics
Of geology, multi-layered, Leo is a ploy, the truth paste.
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