Strange Fruit
lady day lady
god blessed child got his own
in a wilderness
Grimbeau
Scroodles
March 25, 2015
World Shut Your Gob
Multi room speakers
Crap on everywhere you go
Turn up the volume
March 25, 2015
Scram Bell
Minister of Musicians,
new war dance teacher,
once knew my father…
Showered, creamed, slithered,
hoody, deckchairs, big daddies…
Slipping, sliding…wrong shore grifter
little book of shrugs
sanskrit aubergine eggplant
histrionics
took fizz codeine med
brain dead inebriation
small town called chicken
do you like your eggs
sunny easy side up over
boiled poached benedict
March 25, 2015
Apropos
stone sand daffodils
how day grew slim on little gem
ecstatic yellow
March 25, 2015
The Procession
The pain it appears has passed,
a twisted and not strangulated
abdominal fibre of being,
fleeting, frit, clinging,
nagging little sod.
All dead in crash.
I as usual am none the wiser,
interested yet not especially engaged
to task myself too hard (life’s burdensome
enough, my excuse, get out clause – life’s too short).
Who knows what the light will bring?
He’s passed again, a quick in and out,
minding his own business,
being as little trouble as.
My head! Doing a tango, having a wobble
at the drop of a hat, hearing pins drop.
You know, you know.
Night creatures: silver fish, monopods,
opaque gadabouts – a proper rumpus.
Alexander’s Ragtime Band
cut throats and ruffians,
red and rubber necks, craning,
inching forward,
onward to the din
Slasher and trombone
Grimbeau 