A certain cure for snake bites

Forge me fresh iron gloves conceal dainty awesome hands
dwell snide outside of town & gown
& horsey country mindsettees,
our young Toby thrived with chinese knives instead.
Secret Agent one day; Detectorist the next
big break evil Asian confectioner caught
stark bollock naked
onstage in a theatre that never shut—
St Simeon’s inrage inspires high hopes
in hapless giant hogweeds
Sleep up high on the motley jonquil hog agenda —
lost generation chess
put XTC to the plough—
take cream cakes & comfrey
nuncle carbuncle cure all—
go to the foot of your stoney stairwells—Look up!
Boss Ayatollah Lip Gloss spreads such admirable disgust
we see him rocking now in tiresome indifferent light—
post war on boredom now
where an invisible man sees the disappeared
hobbling bent reflection in the right wing mirror
and
like spotless old leopards
hides in mustard cress
—only yesterday’s child waved back
before time dragged it away like a late mother
to the nursery aware unanswered waves disintegrate insiders—
try hard to get over it with short enticing books
timer set to last one hour including adverts
or
shorter still fifty minute therapy
—books where the work happens in the outrageous transfer fee—
pre-defenestration Guy looks more beat than hippy sheik—
Cannes film festival held on ice, next time
down the rusty Rhine if the goblin cats allow unlucky days