Grimbeau

I am of

bombed attained:

brained.

Still

Yet tranquil in

~

an ‘ised’ sense.

Spilt some juice &

cooked the goose

as it screamed ‘Truce!’

~

I twisted harder on its slippery neck

and sliming ugly yellow duckbill snout.

~

Time passes water hole,

drains away in abyss,

glockal grockles gobble,

a sprinkbok eats a puma,

a dragon eats a lion,

a cockerel eats a wallaby.

~

Surrealistic zoo of garish glib product placement,

slick as a pornographic fuck,

a rolling ruck of muck vapid fuckology.

~

My twisted mind contorts,

evaporates zilch and halitosis.

The game’s still on,

Go have a gander at the score.

Something one to something four.

A Sunday Afternoon.