Grimbeau

Scroodles

Herd

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Drab plague day grows sunny round three,
wound change ritual proves to be a long drawn out affair
similar to the endless round of faceless medics and their myrmidons
that brandish big syringes for effect...
AJP Taylor talks Hitler porn in a a lopsided spotted bow tie and parades an encyclopedic grasp of his brief
Perhaps a history course to while away the downtime?
The Origin of the Specious
Perry Coma seen thru a losers eyes
peddling jalop without the oligarch's nod
holding bizarre opinions of the truth
honour bound to bear sombre witnesss
to the heavy tread of a discerning public
who favour coke to sepsis...

Surrealistic Billow

Miles of Smiles

Grimbeau

panestring

On a happy note

Crazy Theolonius

Blue September Hills

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Confessions of a Handyman

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Just seems shameful like
I tried and fooled about with art
for the best part of a golden era
& give or take a mock heroic epic or two
but as the epoch crumbled
I took fright, stepped back &
stole away in search of anonymity

How I nimbly skipped on past tackles
sidestepping young bucks trip wires

and scented mantraps
playing the tough guy with no future
dismissive of  the tedious now

time spent wild carding subdued by booze
short changing a second hand self

umbrella firms of ill wind repute
tried to memorize each one in order
before sidling up for the holy drop for elevenses
But I stopped it and plunged head last
into a teeming bramble wilderness,
inhabited by malicious stingers
vindictive vicious barbs.
Cold vaincautious glances exchanged
when eye contact was declined

went walkabout in phantom seas
fad spiralling stoned dizzy alice selfies
smugly looking down on
while smiley vultures congregate below
soon to part at the pace of Ra
before I again plummet
bumping into roaming spheres
the forgotten fear of falling
came back with a vengeance

pulling out now is no easy ride
boiling hot flesh pies mel
under withered skin
long lost conchshells
appear round the bend
rockaby baby spotted snugly safe
under silky green lush green canapace

For It had beeen slow to warm of late
outswung hanging at the end of a rope
ghoulish freeze framed close up grimace
accompanies a bleary blank stare
passing blurred spectators showing off
discounted marbles queegly in a flurry
of majestic kilts spun while spooning
honeys most generous on steaming farls,

*
So fell I into nanocoma and emerged from it a lost cinque port
Kent became my oyster. It could have been all the world to me…

*
In the beginning was the end and that is the long and the short of it.
One finds out sooner or later Walking on mirrors is not all its crack’d up to be
Call me Omeletto: Anything but Egg ; Housebreaker Bong-Daly
toed the party line without spoiling her nail varnish. Like Beryl Reid
said, it was all about the shoes, which in her nasal snob spoof voice
came over as ‘Shooze’. Why bitch? We’re all just as bad as one another.
Everyone dies ugly.

The swings and roundaboutsm, the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the snakey ladders parading past in viscous toffee cream nylons, recall that wretched sound of a rasping fingernail on plywood. Feverish and seeing things, brain baked dry by sandfly fires.
What happpens net if i drink that orange squash i puked back up in the tumber?
Could have guessed I suppose. Be grown up grab the first thing that comes to hand and cover it up. A precocious uptaker of bad examples, trialing and erring on good for sport.
Embedded dried pea up the nose;
head lost in the clouds; flying twice nightly lightly

All left up in the air, keep the company of freebirds and faulty
military hardware, fearful of flying saucers egged on by cups and spoons…

State of the Union: Distressed

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we all feel down in bad weather
stuck indoors counting blessings
declavring war on last nights washing up
weighing up plusses and minuses
of invisibility and amnesia

bad servant memory skives off
feast days and bank holidays
taking bloody liberties
with the milk of mutant kindness
constrained by clamour
in the pantry garden

the camera never cries
the piecrust never seeped
gravy when you blew it
encouraging the meatball
to make a run for it

The Meagre Benison of Tired Starlings

Eccles

 

 

May rains hail and thunder
all-in-one morning tucked up
Sophia fetches balm for the bundle
Observing unusual proprieties
following hors d’oeuvres
keep the kettle boiling
the nettle coiling
the aspidistra flying
keep the company of doves
brawling in the fountain
over scarce fuck all
intended for the starlings…

Sprogulike

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Aunty Mare and sombre Sky observe
the proprieties at all times
Beyond the me the other hard to pick out
through the wrong end of a spyglass darkly
Ye Gobs! When frisbees roamed the earth
and all the bus tops green canopy
Millicent and Marty sought cover
from true blue meanies
Conceived after bathing at Baxters
glaze your arses and shield you gonads
to bless the pointless little head of Sprog
of Sprog Coriolanuswnd wash him well

The Little Bird Trolled

FF1

 

 

Remember reading the Unnameable in identical weather this time last year and the one before.
Same house different room this time. The old lady oppostite was alive last year. Now her stuff is in a skip on the drive.
Saw it from the room I mentioned earlier
History has been made all right. The ulcer was smaller then.
Did a bit out in the sacred garden. Even got out from time to time. Down the pub. Never say Die. Plucky old bird.
Way beyond that now. Place going downhill fast. That leaky lean to aint got long by the llo of it. Much water under the defrosted fridge
Few people call in to pick. The Virus you know…Plus sans change.

Not Grafton St and Cary Grant again I ask you! Back in the day they would neer hae dared to.
When men were men and women were afraid. There are a few more stiffs hanging round tonight
fly dumped on the sub-toxic lawns
Where cats hae spat the rats hae shat the remains of the dubious quorn
And and and what? Gimme a moment Monkey Face. Cary puttles the kettle on.
Christian gets blinded following science and arrives at Vanity Fair. Merciful heavens Collapse
‘Now who left the sky open, on a market day

Still sloobing aroound in housecoat and slippers properly let themsells go;
stale fags and rotten carpets
The place was crawling with americans unknown on facebook
settling old scores with paramours
proscribing all transgressions
born of a Badland
A feud that threatened to spill over and consume the world
supply of oxygen and intolerance.

Dialogue’s a bugger to write when the voices talk at the same time.
One takes short cuts like making most
of it up. Usually sounds better that way.
They bolted at his every word
What are they saying over there by the elephant’s foot?
How big elephants must be?
Silly
More like it really…
Benedict’s a scream when you get to know him
But he can be so…abrasive
His old girl came from there
Shows in the wash
True. So true

Ransack & Plunder…(Cry me a Zither)

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Dragged
away from the unhappiness
contest after losing the plot
mapping out cities razed of people
sequin-cloaked in the steady opulence
of Sunday a teatime chastising errant aphids.
Sanctifying
euthanasia for the financially challenged
after
a small amontillado
a bout of imbecility
during a toccata & fugue
at a recital down the orangerie
Picture
a Flower sat down to take stock
a surefire cure for insomnia
she dreamt that as she slept off the trance.

But how could this be so?
Without him there was no world to speak of
he would not be there to overlook.

He turns the radio back on and settles
down to the sound of meteorites
raining on the corrugated roof of the temenos.

The world was waking up
from its ransack

Insurrection Blues (Guess we have no Therl Baps Monsieur)

 

jaw jut

…the third day was by far the worst
our enemy the clement weather

as ever
said weather soon aligned itself to passive lamentation
and gentled us with suspect serenades

An inaudible gasp oft precedes the sacrificial therl baps
wherein a sharp intake of breath soon follows
Just try to imagine the look on his face
at the shock that overcame her self
when with numbers crunched up the gravel stairwell
and found us broken up like aggregate

Very like a legion jackboots stamping down hard on innocent faces worldwidely…

 

 

 

 

Captain Tom Pulls it Off!

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As Fizz bomb # 3 looms  big watch sunset smites dystopian manifesto probe;

clear sky thinking slowly sinking proffers us a frosty night; more beds than meds and
staff upset; liberty ships come at what cost?

Eye for the main chance that one; gets the job done mind you. Never hook a flounder after midnight or overlook a gift horse in your face; two fingers offer up a blind spot afore you go.

No look before leap opt out elsewise; refuse or nimbly fencesit riding shotgun for the pigs
Unprepossessed of full fat free range facts and fingers; thus impeded by a bunch of fives till dukes issue a halt to hilarity;
the wicker vicar throws a tantrum in a crowded one stop shop; why just stand giving out incendiary bon mots; head balled is no surprise;

An abbreviated nap follows rural retreat;
wait and see now ennit. Ennit never comes clean. To pull the other one: an invite to allcomers. RSVP. OUI. Four ponds and eighty two stents and cheap at half the price.
Stagnant wet fish market. Sinister Culverts? You bet your ass on that Nelly.

Crisis Cohort

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Easter Sunday so they say;
a new motherhood knits her brow

they sit apart together
to confirm the obvious concerns abroad;

I love you from a sadly from a distance
to protect the children from the plague.

Are we not all just little boats
thinks a nosey child concealed

out of sight in the shadows
Real eyeballs meet for the first time in ages.

Nothing exciting will she say
fobbing off the nosey questions

with a secret sign

So who on earth was it who eavesdropped us
hidden close by out of view.
There was considerable footage
on the security cams

here a dazzling sunlight plays a part
the mounting brackets will may
play a part yet in determining
the conclusion of this tribulation
a trial which may make use of this account at will…
if this lockdown never ends…

Might is Trite

Visog

 

Coriolanus rampages throughout, leaving sawbonnne doctors
signed off sick, self medicating on left hand dog legs, shy and retirig,
retiring that is to pick discretely on spicy edibles and creosote
platelet dainties.
Let nature to its own devices carving fresh streams
through obsolescent new builds grown
measly cold on indifference.

Inner sanctified mood, a place where hubris wallows;
note those whose learned eyes speak of it in copious macabre volumes;
‘Cumin 61, your time is up’ reads the lesson;
not on this atomic watch, thought our Henry
counting unhatched reptiles down in the potting shed.
When Alice said and did the vault
we lived like gods; we ate like goldfish; we shat like lords;
at leisure we perfected
the makeshift trappings of a gobsheen,
chose worrying working titles that stuck defiantly
as stray dags to woolly umpers.
Meantime upstairs the Roofer
glued and riveted, exchanged laddish manecdotes,
it seems a revolutionary cream is made
available down the local dragstore

Ill Heaven Zero Four

 

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NINE is eight found wanting
stale orchids splutter
pure airways overnight
no second breath come first gasper
justice thirsts as curfew drains
March makes aether culprit,

flittish snide barbs niggle
vindictive zests defy belief
–when will words fall petal free?
consult yond inner demon seed
that insufferable bore that force feeds you
breast fed by orphan shovels
drives me wild eyed to distraction
shot drops me like a polar bear
found seething raging glowing
sliced through by sabre sleet
on a dodgy asphalt shoulder starving

never got so far that they could fake my name
before the pants were pulled down
and the sacrament began
blurted it out in dribbles and spits
little old me in a market town alley
who would have thought
it would happen there
over here of all places

Ten Twenty Nine…

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…something that is probably novel
happens at this time this morning
a fantasy sequence on Brownsea Island
or perhaps a nylon carpet
crackling with static
brings instant concerns
about the bass guitarist
Where is it all gone?
The grass is getting cut.
chocolate muffins and opium all day
Better stay indoors
where oh where did it all go

Le Crunch

Grimbeau

Ingratitude did not come easy to Adam at first, but he told me that once you get the hang it, it soon becomes a firm favourite with all the family, & creating just the right environment for it to thrive results in endless time consuming diversion…
—You’re obsessed! I thought, but he was my man and I did not want to prick his bubble
—What do you fancy to eat? I said
—Apple crumble, he replied contemplating apathy
The air grew thick with orange blossom.

~
—Maculate misconceptions are more frequent than first meets the eye, said the Omniscient Narrator, looking straight into camera two. And to me it seems somehow inevitable that this little episode will precede a fall to end all falls
—Well you should bloody well know, I thought, knowingly
Adam began to weep in despair, smelling trouble in the air, and cursed the green lentil stew…

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A Room with a View (I see no ships)

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Life you see is a drop in for drop outs
pop-ups, internees, refugees amputees
cut off from the main…
the quality of ennui
falleth like manna from heaven
a silhouette of a thrush
fixated on some shiny distant thing
captivates my idle gaze
exalts it to significance
prompts forgetfulness
for a rare exotic moment
in suburbia

Vellum Quarto

Grimbeau

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Leafmould

The page is made

on wood

Chopped, chipped, pulvered,

Mushrooms

Mulched and Rolled

Morning stretch

Decal edge refined

Yawn

Cut down to the right size

Behold your adorable

Face

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The Gaze

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…that odd time of day that tells;
inbetwixt engagements;
neither fish nor fowl
grace the dinner table;
when night falls we shall be gone
Pith! Sweet deity. Kind moiety
body and soul of livid wit
customizing scandal
scandalizing custom
mirror written cipher reads
upside inside out…
oo my fucking head it span
before the lockdown fixed my gaze

Splendid Insulation (Broiled Leaf & Parrots)

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Script aborted so far soso …soo l o n g
…a viral sun shines, oily laurel spangles silver as i prowl, as i twitch divine…trust we not this internet no more?
all is invalid, up for gropin grabs, oleaginous scabs, starched collar bones
those boot boys over there
on the corner milling
looking out for trouble…

The devil is under contract
making work for Israel Hands
Isolating rubies; doing dirty dishes
periwinkling on the sandbar
thinking don Corleone
Hoofing like George Raft…

Script rejected so what nono …soo s o r r y
…a spiral moon climbs, jolly crayfish gambol as I scowl, as I down incline…trust we not this flannalette no more?
Solace fey pallid, paltry vague wan, soft focus close up
Cheroot glows straddle water
Silhouettes on ceilings
Candelabra kneeling

Wall St Imbiss

Grimbeau

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Watched the Stasi throw
a number of people
in the sea green trabant van
while we discussed the events of 89
them call our outfit ‘Tinkletoes’ and share
unbounded optimism
for no apparent reason
with suspect passing strangers

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Chew it & Pooh It (Hoards of Babylon)

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Containment breeds estrangement

I hear you hearing
remember me
when mothballs hatch
in the secret pocket
battleship
of your
psyche

Todd Sloane

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End of day
at close of play
staying put
for night cap
to help
send me to a sleeping more sublime
I fell into a fever and thought myself a flea
transmitter in the lapel
of a diseased bailiff
transmitting gruff sweet nothing
about property and theft

On Hearing the Last Episode of Joseph Andrews…

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Lady Booby pulled it off, little cough, wet ruby. Joseph guite beside himself refused to do his duty
Struck out alone but came beck home tail between his legs, quaffed sordidly on gallantry in the
company of dregs. The moral of this story is from gentry girls relent should you cherish freedom
and ludic punishment…

On hearing the last episode of Joseph Andrews realised by wireless on a bright spring day cloistered
in the cell, self isolated for fifteen years since the old queen quit. A Question of succession pervades
a land locked in the spasms of seasonal upheaval, spring camps on the doorstep don’t take no for
an answer…

Sylvia Simms went off into one of her deep dark funks at the mercantile type. The middling non
entity, crouched behind the barb and sheriff. Will Kempes plausible frailty of the restless ester fallen
on hard times, the implication of conspiracy to maim by neglect, she saw Lydia being drawn in to
an an act of human kkindness with alarm. What of her plans? She wrestled hard for a long bare minute.
Were five legs better than one.She grew tense and nervous. Said nothing…

Beat this into shape, make it ship shaped, a Bristol fashion, ultimately flawed by contradiction and
and by surround sound, drowning in drab pastures, talking small to a comely dyke. From faerie ring
to turdstool callow, weathers of life a plenty. There was a time when this was how it would be was
invented. Making the highway you home has extremes of variety. Water has always flowed underground.
Same as it ever was. You cannot step into the same river twice.

Coriolanus

 

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Just seems shameful like
I tried and fooled about for the best part of an era
give or take a mock heroic epic or two
as an epoch took fright & lurched back
slunk off in search of collective anonymity
I nimbly skipped on past tackles
sidestepping young bucks
playing tough on no future
beyond the shocking now

wild carding sub conned dubious umbrella firms of ill wind repute
Memorized each one in order
sidling up for the holy drop come elevenses
stopped it and plunged
into teeming bramble, inhabited by cunning stingers, vicious barbs.
Coldt vaincautious glances
fiound eye contact declined

Fad spiralling down dizzy alice selfies
smiley vultures congregate below
soon to part at the pace of a plummet
bumping into roaming spheres
before the forgotten fear of falling
came back with a sten gun

pulling out is no easy ride
boiling hot flesh pies
melting under withered skin
losing conchshell round the bend
rockaby snugly safe under silky
green envelopment

It had beeen slow to warm of late; outswung at the end of a rope
freeze framed close up grimace accompanies blank stare blurred
spectators showing off counted marbles queegly in queer kilts spun
while spooning honey most generous on steaming farls, fell into
a nanocoma and emerged from it a cinque port of my choosing.
Kent was my now my oyster. It could have been the world to me.

In the beginning was the end and that is the long and the short of it.
One finds out sooner or later Walking on mirrors is not all its crack’d up to be
Call me Aphoristo: Anything but Egg ; Housebreaker Bong-Daly
toed the party line without spoiling her nail varnish. Like Beryl Reid
said, it was all about the shoes, which in her nasal snob spoof voice
came over as ‘Shooze’. Why bitch? We’re all just as bad as one another.
Everyone dies ugly.

The swings and roundaboutsm, the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the snakey ladders in thick
toffee nylons, that wretched sound of rasping fingernail. Feverish and seeing things, brain baked by
sandfly.What happpens if i drink that orange squash i puked back up in the tumber? Could have guessed
I suppose. Be grown up grab the first thing and cover it up. Precocious uptaker of examples, trialing
and erring. Pea up the nose; head in the clouds; flying twice nightly low over ratruns.

Doors

Grimbeau

The noose was too loose, the trap door was stuck.
‘Lydia Steptoe, you are by dint of serendipity, free to roam the earth, jejune and fancy free’
The voice removed the sack. It was Mr Kipling.
‘James Hayter?’
‘None other’ said James Hayter, glowing with avuncular warmth
‘Are you pulling my leg?’ said Lydia.
‘No, dear lady. The rules are clear as custard tarts. Now off you trot, and sorry for the cock-up.’
James Hayter doffed his manky indigo topper and indicated the door marked ‘Exit’
The lights went orange. The cluster of onlookers began to hop on their right legs. Lydia stepped down from the rickety scaffold and scuttled toward the door. Before pushing the bar she turned
‘For what was I condemned to hang, James Hayter?’
‘Wasting court time with mediocre card tricks’
‘Seems a bit harsh’, she thought nodding mock penitence

Outside it was dark. The…

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Survivals

GLASS CEILING

 

 

 

A floorboard squeaks, a muffled cough, a lid shutting.
Shut the blinds and windows
wait for the knock on the door
One will come along
when the fun begins
Could take a week or two
These things often do
Grow a second skin
Give up life for Lent
Wash your hands of the matter
Turn the other cheek
inner fires burning
suddenly depressed
Grey supulchral dawn
no floorboard squeaks
no muffled cough
lid still down
ride on

Paper Moon

 

 

Fowlpester

 

 

The other side of the wind
Where the waves are absent
Save for lungfish splashing
stroll in pink straw hats down
an obligatory gangplank
for seasick whalers
day falls copious, resplendent
in the nursery window

To Have and to Have Not

Jean-Baptiste_Siméon_Chardin_007
Downstairs floor suck underway
With a hey-nonny-nonny
and a ha-bloody-hee
Gonna meet a quaker
with a banjo on my knee
killing time the old way
watch a river flow
under a complacent sun
Florrie sprayed the kitchen garden
a shiny black car drove off

Art of eyebrows sheds fresh light
Professor Marmite makes a stir
courts controversy
divides opinion
promotes indifference
chairs sitting on the fence
Splinters…sat no more
Denis Diderot takes a powder
Drowns his woes in seafood chowder
Chagrin’s cat hisses delight
Sibilant as steam in a fissure
A team player left out for scowling
Slicing blood oranges for half time
spitting in fresh face masks

A Very Strange Spanish

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Charles Tomlinson turns sights into words
Stoke of old was long and narrow
where learning to fish
teaches you to cast no shadow on the water
or the fish will flee
Poverty stricken seamstresses
shed gemstones in the dust
Well before he got to Cambridge
he knew his Baudelaire well

I must return to Ruskin and keep a journal
as i walk through a limestone landscape
like an empty vessel; quick
when the light is so much better
refracted by the driven snow
of Arizona’s Desert
not nobody elses

For change is brought by light
and not other people
casting the shadow of a doubt
where the sun dont shine

Horse Soup & Duck Feathers

A view of the intersection at 5th Avenue and 42nd Street

 

Time spent in smoke
ends in smoke
All go out in flames
or down divinely
dedicated to the marvellous nice
Everybody’s smoking
so no one’s getting high
Time up in smoke
rope a dopem, amtelope

down death row cinemas
grow edelweiss and the blue is plain azure
Palladian pillars and Mick the Miller
get lowered down in town
freedonia is just a broadway show
where everyone eats cornbread

Back home in the dull familiar
struggling like der fuhrer
with the castle gate
think I’ll go all vegan on them
to show how serious I have hope

Senseless in Gaga

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Strung out on quasars
everyone got lice
poor ickle seedy
third monsoon season
taramasalata
remnants on a crust
stealth bombers nest in
the stangest places
captain paranoia
calls the shots in Cisco

Florence of Arabia

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Ten days from Persepolis I find is quite enough
devious hand signals indicate the time to go is now
All Stan and Ollie clumsiness must be timed to sheer perfection
A well oiled ex machina riding for a maul
weaved from exotic jade bracken speeds through curve ball air:
Beaches and obelisks obsess my waking thoughts of late
like prime numbers leaning on a wall
denigrating muesli as opium for the masses
A healthy balance diet always has its knockers
Victor Frankenstein had a tale or two to tell I bet
The smell of chicken rises as Igor ends up in a birdbath

Whalespotting

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Eager to Hail Caesar before late closing rout
A frantic wait ensued prolonged by reasonable doubt.
A restless mob swelled to thirteen hapless souls
The troll who called Charles Dickens ‘Cuntface’ slunk off
in search of shadows. The Seaby was at anchor. It was tuna season
and times were so-so at the Crooked Bullet
Triremes graced the inlet coves
pastel blues and pinks turn mango
the fishers were abed
today they fell the oak tree
I claim I once planted as a child

Quick to praise King Rollo so not to miss the tide
Shipping News confounds the crew
Three kraken roost on Mizen Head
The lighthouse blinks stray tendrils
illuminating blistered asphalt
and peeling gaud on out of season caravans
A squall raddled precarious quay
A perch for intrepid wayfarers
in a cumbrous daimler truck
converted for the alpine experience
a veteran of Moroccan scree
Drifts remotely out to sea

Madagaskar

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Paused to watch in awe
as porksausage is slowly herded into
a red hot oven.
Ponderous rise to thirteen hundred handclaps;
read back through unfinished work–capable, superficial, slapdash
mild mannered…
up yours to writing courses.
Sausage time after chess defeat debacle.
Still life goes on in a glass bunion reading mad sestinas
loose limbed shambling to a close

Mist not clearing, rigid grey stays
As weary corseteers drink creamy
Chicken cuppa soups
& tongue inscrutable croutons

Corrugated tin roof soundbite din

Wet cats weeping sombre buckets
Waiting for morsels
Or dead fledglings
Lost drowned commencing maiden flight.

A quick gasper, juicy  goss and prattle
then back to graffiti whalebones
Curse those deft big hollow needles
The sky went orange: locusts

Jetflop & Samson

Amyl

 

Sunday morning scrub
Wind blows like a stammer,
winkles drapes,
dissipates
replaced by pastel
blue and pink graffiti
over thinned out chestnut woods

Fertile Ground

2688 (1)
Nine days into the new year spring struck the dozy Cut at ten fifty nine on the strawberry nosegay, essential oil spillage romping in abject hayloft recalled Petula and dripping rain down on this jawful of toxic fodder, still beggars can’t be choosers, so they say, but more of that anon
O! mute contorted spring  that of witch from yuledream breaks still antiseptic and vindictive in its luscous bite and repressive in its grandiose vision, all this seen in contrasted tarns of Aryan types of northern european extraction, one applies such strictures others sadder succour, and petit moi in sweet rancid pod spouting freedom crap to passers out. No this one wants it over and done with so much that she can get some quality sleep and spend precious time with her pissed neglected family and maybe by a stroke of luck meet some friends or just play walk the fucking dog as it seems these days everywhere you go there is some needy bitch on heat driving hound dogs mad, bad, and tedious to know
Now there was a blast from the decent past as if i remembered a rhythm of how to spout without stopping and looking up to see the product of my disinterred fingers weep; o for the generous rear of the cheesecake and smell of the loud rampaging nobheads stomping thunderously over the resonant needled flaw of presence and then sudden like almost stopping to consider too stark vivid options, the wild orchids and leafmould hoof persist only now as mummery, got a new one as there’s no two ways about it, what’s more besides bet it snows before next week is through, but fuck it let’s go then you and I and get those beers in Grimbeau mentioned ages back
Do I chance dare in this repair to risk the stair in darkness, or even in the flickering light in this state of twilight, distress and thirst? Onwards and downwards a wag suggests! What are you. a tomfool or an eejit tripper? Of course one will find at the heel of the hunt we all piss blood on a Friday night round here…

Wanted Man

1781

 

Toe wrapped up anew
boney walkman ascending
stares up to see
a pelican swallowing
suburbia in one gulp
curlew chicks slide down
ballooning gizzards
of sodden gazebos
~

Killed off a lot of half hours
waiting for answers
to pressing questions
moved off
eventually
eschewing time zones
transported by taunts
loose canons and silly wizards

Oliphants & Berserkers

O'Morse where art thou

 

 

ain’t got no time for messing; original thought sought; panic brought forth nowt; busy morning to chew over;
a bitter campaign; internecine warfare in the shires; who drew that line in the land?

the wind gets up apace whipping up a storm a white island volcano coughs its disapproval causing five
to perish on a far off event horizon

black holes are practicising cannibals that will eat eachother in the end engendering a pompous rumpus in
the parly houses that remain

it was then it dawned on me it was midwinter and i ought to make sacrifice to fuck all and ensure the bucklers
are fit for purpose

it was noted as odd when the supply train arrived before the vanguard and the smell of sizzling bacon
entranced our half starved elephants and berserkers

Flavella found paltry the consolation of knowing that persistence was its own reward as she gathered lilacs
in the spring scattered on the ringpull strand

A Bit of a Handful

umber_overview

 

Foot zing diminishes after redress; today was stillborn arduous;
earthquakes tremble listlessness, unlured by tallow poesy,
very nice though it seems, a can of worms called cryogenic
masochism. the rood that unglued. nothing hinged springs easy.
Where is it to go?
Forlorn in no faced media; a crowd of ones and zeros swaps;
O not to live like that if I make it through this eternal night;
topdogs of a thousand faces; lit from underneath by lime
twixt screens disposed to wander looking for a break
a let up in the bombardment reveals
a paucity of rubble heaped beside a cranky trebuchet
lightly dusted with talc
redolent of instant mash

Air Weaves

day-1

 

…radio morning:
Barg,.. CPS Snow…the Warp

and The Anarchy by Dalrymple
wherein Clive Of India
does himself in

with a rusty penknife on a luxuriant jakes…

& Eliot’s missus opts for happy pills
taken aback by Dostoevsky  elation
epilepsy, gaming

and sheer fucking Joi de Vivre

Why is this comic?
I dunno
You’re the expert
End of sonic

Head below

Heironymush Tosh springs to mind
Fat blackbird on bare mountain ash
tobacco yellow beak
beech leaf clings to dog fur
nightlights glow through mist…
Dilith strikes traditional note
grabs old hacks by the scrote and throat
invoking hostesses of rebecca
starlets and harlots rid the streets of slime
oozing under chapel doors
like strawberry juice and penury

Solent Night

EJzy9-QWwAAJPiH

 

got a november sunday
got a wind early when courtesy called to say

Old Cleobury snuffed itt
a month before his judgement day
when the oriental sun
sets swiftly in the west
and misere mes deus
rings out in vestibules and bleak boutiques
across a frenzied flame grilled chard
got a sad november sunday

Young Cleobury snuffed it yesters after vespers–best go light a twilight candle…Seems seven tried and fooled about too much for an epoch give or take an epic spurt & lurking back now slunked off in search of fresh fields trotting
taking picket nimbly skipping ugly tackles bypassing bucks playing futures by wild carding every given hand
sub contracting bridges to dubious firms of hoods
each sizing me up for the drop come elevenses stop hard rest into teeming psychospace occupied by humless stingers, causticbarbs.
proceed vaincautious over casting
suspect glances confirm contact was declined

spiralling down muchlike dizzy alice snatching selfies tuxedoed beside smiley vultures often congregate below
but soon part at the pace of plummet bumping on houmous spheres
before forgotten fear of falling said no pulling out this jaunt ain’t no easy ride consider boiling hot flesh melting under withered skin
losing conchshellnesss on glossy triptych
picturebook thumbsucker
rockaby snug terror
safe inder silkinesses
creamy green envelopment

slow to warm of late; outswung end of rope pressing offal swing bridge freeze framed close up nosehair gawp
accompanies point blank stare from vacant spaces

counted marbles three to one and looked elsewhere

just before afterwards…

1782105_778429402185641_418958319_n-620x

 

 

…nobody seen talking when one arrived and one left on a mission to Coventry  (a unique silence fell)
felt nothing no matter how hard could not relate felt very awkward (a true quality of
light)
concave faces impress with natural reluctance to crack smiles while sedentary ( a screw came loose)
on return the ashtrays and coffee cups were absent without leave incidentally (a hound bayed blue)
stranglers and burglars concluded the account of recent deft grand larcenies ( a smell of tranquil ear)

Burning Bash

expo1

 

—Burnt out, or so you say. All burned out. Dried up, but like what—wadi or toast, wreck, ruin, candlestick or freak storm? Where there’s life…where there’s life. That’s what they always say
—Toast it is then: crusty brown wholemeal toast burnt black, iffy thermostat…
—Not bad, not bad at all
—No heart & soul mind you
—Husky, though, even a little dusky (ha-ha)
—Coffee brown roasted funnel dregs
—Still damp!
—Left out when the sun was at it’s…
—Zenith?
—Strongest
—Wow…that is real burnt!

The plague years, they said, burn themselves out.
A peculiar variety of auto da fe
It would seem to have been
Divinely ordained.

Fire starter & hosepipe surge; belle, bookie, & candelabra!
Have they moving the furniture around again?
Yes. They never stop it these days.
so much so sunshine & showers
seldom clash these days.
So well do they behave themselves.
And clouds no longer burst.
Not since many a long year.
Dry as salvages we are:
Mesos, stackpoles, arid drumlins…
Only lithographs remain,
ink shadow plays, traced on distressed concrete,
splashes wink on toppled sarsens, drizzle laps on banished dolmen…
sure it’s better than nothing, anything’s better than splat:
‘That’s what they always say’
—a coalition of crackpots, by gum!
Well Would you Adam & Eve it?
Iron Sadie morphs up
before your very bleary eyes
It defies all common sense, she said.
It ought not be allowed, she bled.
Curtains shut below but not above,
marked down the mental sentinel
Must have Gone to Hull in a handcart
On the run in Kingdom come
Caught red handed bonkers in
Fingers in the till
Golden City of tiny lies,
Pottersville emits more heat than light
ominous stench of ordure
So who was it scared the horses?
All enemies are liars
I am an enemy
Cogito ergo summer suit
Pass me a government
I think there’s one in my rainbow
Shunshine & showers wee small hours
Aha! Red biddy bam a lamb
It’s a blunderful midwife
This should never have happened
To us Old Newtonians
As June defines an end to May—

Think this this → Here
So read the legendary
stAte called (t) Ired
in-Comprehending
optionless, prone, akimbo,
gersplatted after
The Fall
The fall
takes it clean out of a body
in unholy smoke!
(that in which it all goes up)

watch it go up quick then
pfffhhhszz!
Vertical matchbox soaked in sun
The floor was too hot to walk
Back in nineteen eighty one
No-go area then: nowhere area when?

Some say emergency were slow
Slower than a fireball is fast
Grenfell tower, Latimer road
Notting hill, West London showed
Up, up, up, for what it’s worth
A charnel house in a sea of dearth

Schismism

nose

 

 

Joint effort redress complete…

read the funny papers
impeach begrudging reviews
a rare treat for imbalance to cringe

 

 

Two toffee muffins and Earl Grey tea
with almond milk and sunny honey
taste sweet after we ran for the hills,

holed up downtown speakeasies
watched a burning man fall to the ground
gape jawed onlookers caugh
the long last word ‘Catch’–

no takers came forward from the gallery

The eye of time regards us all
with scant regard
Stop fighting in the War Room
they say in hushed tones

The Prince and the Paedo
all at sea in a ropey  inflatable
–schisms fall like rain these days
confounding the living and the fed

Litmus Toast

1082051043

 

 

In the shell of the derelict Whalehouse coolies puzzle over paradoxes set by lounge bar lizards with slit me gizzards after throttling and poke me in the eye with starched cravats who feed off one armed bandits parked by signs marked exit

Once beside a time   empty handed punters   beg  favours feign worry spoof  anguished monochrome saviour  foster righteous outrage   really biding time  until soft cops came by in drag   quelling din & quenching   thirsty fires one by one

The fun had barely begun  an ill disposed hermit fell foul of a a fishy dishy   only found out to the cost later

She was an alligator at heart   who fed off a baked potato   he found too hot to fondle
A portrait of a disappointment just  for a change

She claimed that when he looked around casual took a bitesize chunk of grumble pie then settled down to face off a blowey night part lit by fazed green candle night …

Green golden sleeves droop willowy hanging limply over sable fable plots of footpads tripping lightly on elastic flagstones

 

Sneak thief nimble wily   attend the gulley snipe’s   consumptive giggles  mock echo ghoulish chatter & the splatter dash of infidels dissolves down rancid runnels

Air drains for miasma from hoop lanes where squat arched floribunda sprout from brick grikes and get mistook for feral catnip

Loss leader posies,ark the spot…fistful of sixes, fistful of sevens  overspruced suitors  don best bib and tucker stride coyly bolt upright

Besmirched by coal juiced sleet just dropping by to pass on a promise of nevermore sorrow & eternal blisses

Stole furtive kisses contacting sublime lilting learned on all things and everything you honour to neglect
overmuchly.

Meanwhile downtown Hope sprang eternal tin the human beast thanks to electric shock therapy interrupted by an outage

Episode seven: The Rape of the Lick; Five go Apeshit in Dudley Salterton (the only game in town); Deaf Mango Party Pack plays a Humdinger de Luxe al fresco

Carpal tension quelled at last by stirrup pump & gurgling unction   Going going gong rang out…Squawky Flitch prevailed over a jug of brine before  bringing up the main

During the crash of two zeros eight we consider eight fugees queuing up outside
Northern Rock in Brixton rescuing a lifetime’s savings.

Rodgered once more by de Cover Up they retreat into Insecure obscurity; battening down hatches; weathering the storm –The one that never stops

Hurricane Hutzpah hits Louisiana; Twisters blister bayou wasteland; how savage are the lakes of Pontchartrain?

Langston takes the wavy air   One in the pot One ready to go   Read above  head full of garbage gust needed to clear the space of missiles

Merrily…Merrily

NGS Picture ID:1217302

 

 

If there is no wind
drift
sleep idle whittle
while way your day
in froth and foible
idle
like an eidolon
If there is no wind…

Pierrot

Ben

 

Raves end down by the river dusk
full of puffing steamers
bracing gusts of sleet
smell of miniver & musk–

braciers glow on the pierhead
under a mackerel sky
a fisher cops a whopper
and smiles like Spencer Tracy

Smellyvision

images (1)

 

Smoke and toxic mists,
akin to when the bass descends
too slow for easy listening,
treacle aroma from burnt rubber bands,
green onions supply a smell of jasmine.

The toe pain subsided three hours after
a lengthy tender cushioning in coaltar,
then we caught the end of comic Rochester
find Orson air brushed pretty boy,
hamming tall dark handsome blind oaf

Room in an Elephant

yellow2

 

 

Patches of coherence cloaked in faded motley,
drawled Kansas City Enrico,
shoeless clad in shreds and patches gleaned from hand me downs,
eiderdowns, the recently drowned, and ignoring
frowns declaimed:
‘Cherokee apache crow nez perce… bury my head in them wounded hearts, them sounds of burning tinsel sizzling,
iterneee chattels, long forgotten heirlooms louch on sickly sofas
neckless headless fu manchu’ed…
How the day grew from seed of doubt to a fruitless evening of remembrance,
it will not grow old like the rest of us

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