A Jakes Progress

by grimbeau


Father lampshade,

Mother rug,

go gliding upstairs

through dreek formless fug,

real time is taking shape.


Thus can Moby Grapeseed  dwell

in grotty motley,

spangled alcazar;

nasalizing hypnotic

verse into a well-travelled

voice recorder on the jakes

for acoustic, hygienic

and ambient purposes.


Here he will be found by a

stranger with an

axe and smartphone,

who will flush out thoroughly,

do his duty and wash his hands

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