Distillery in My Soul

The distillery in my soul
Cannot stop brewing these sweet gins.
For in the hearts of my heart
It has been planted deep.
Coated and galvanized
No reactions of-Hatred, maltreatment,
Discrimination, Discouragements and
Demoralisations of fans and foes can corrode.

Not even a bolt will be turned loose
By these!
For the foundations are firm and fit
Structure welly planned.
It blue prints can be found in the archives of my soul.
The best of gins I promise to brew forever.
The finest ever to booze
The hovering ghost of Shakespeare and my beloved Dickens

Best ever made,
Signed and Approved
By the accreditation boards of Heaven
Best enough to digest the hard labours of
My favourite Hardy
With the superb yeast reactions ever
That can never be compared to that of Yeats.

A gin that knows what good to do to the soul
For indeed it’s from the soul.
That which when tasted will
Maintain the manners of the brewer
And uphold the image of its distillery
Rather than sail the sailors from
Anne to Eliot!

A gin very inflammable enough to light the darkened souls
And intoxicate all minds and make mere
The greatest works of De la Mare.
A gin that will make all Souls be at ease and
Encourage to go gentle into every good night.
And this gin is that which flows through
The delivery tubes in between the
Tips of my fingers, bottled up
In the white sheets of my days.