When you think you have
Had enough give out
Give out, give out
Give up
Open your book and look
At that cringeful
Self- indulgent
Crap!
Yes that is the truth
Your poetry
Commemorates
Tat
Unwell comes, visits
Experiencing heart failure
I feel nothing but disdain
Compassion absent
Try at least to make an effort
A semblance of concern
Automatic niceties
Is anyone for menace?
Unshaven, filthy heap,
Condescends to wake
moping like a slum,
anticipating the worst.
A pained animal wails
Comatose in the garden.
More cloud and damp certified
*
Bacon butties, washing, sweep floor,
then…yes! There’s the rub.
Yesterday’s exchanges were ominous,
dictat is not assertion.
No plan, just command.
Move me bed upstairs!
Trouble is brewing…
*
Ten china doves in gloves
Scattered shattered crowd the path…
Showered, swept, washed, cooked,
consumed, answered the phone,
all alone for another day,
masquerading competence,
kidding no one but myself
*
One man play for the F-Bomb…
ludic, fractious notion.
Fish & chips made from
leftover garden spuds?
And why the hell not?
When forensic finally
Turn up the flies are long gone
Grimbeau 