Grimbeau

Scroodles

Fleshpots

Shit-bunny

 

 

Porter slugging as rains beat drown
Drove Old Bell to Horse & Groom
Afternoon swell ales & gasbags
Grace free air conditioned flatulence
Caught up on long lost anti-heroes
Remnants of tandoori knights
collapsing in blue suede abandon—
where’s the point of cleaning up
when it only gets dirty again?
~
Midsummer rain birds waddle
Ritually tantalise boney ghosts—
Ship infested once again
Ratty, puffy curse filled Zen
Stuff their mouths quick silver till
pink gums bleed sprout gold teeth
& Tongues ooze slurry, weak jaws creak,
mouths deny, despise and munch
So cruel now once so wondrous comrades
~
Wishing one daft pond farewell,
Waltzing slow through naked blushes,
sniggers, pissed emboldened hushes
What a little magic cannot do
To geese mislaid & drowsy Frogspawn
Six thought eight count nine bells twice—
disturbance brings division thrice—
strange waters let misrule connive—
~
strawberry noses, blotchy skin
mischief makers, caustic gin
floating on a wave of ale
along the ditch & cricket pitch
beyond the sodden common
all downhill around the bend
past St.Mary’s obscure spire
stark granite suburban Dead
congregate for wakes & ale

 

 

Tussle

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Grimbeau

…educated right hand
toyed with me but briefly
before easily putting me down
with a dismissive squib
and a scintillating boat
hook that landed me sparko
on the seat of my scruples
— did not see what that was
coming for the life of me…
anyways flattened him good
in the third with a lusty
left upper ignoramus
wiped the smarm off
his valentine in a jiff it did…

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She Said

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Grimbeau

Surprise visitor!
Ginger Rogers fresh from heaven
knock me down with a feather boa

give us a twirl then luv
‘aren’t you going to ask me?’, she said
Ask you what I close upped

Strong silent typography
‘How does it feels to be dead?’
She thinks I’m Peter Fonda

Poor love goddess,
They all go a bit
Sunset Boulevard

I give her my father’s best side
And flash the trademark
well-upholstered teeth

she smiled knowingly
We parted on the best of terms
It had not always
been like that…in fact never
quite like this before

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Time Marches Off

favewood

Grimbeau

Cleaner, obscener, Greek God-like, romantic visionary gobshite, deified by self and mothers, receives less than enthusiastic response from beleaguered eejit trojan woman

Hoi polloi turn away sneering like Mutley at yet another abortive ruse by ludic evil genius to ground flighty, devious Columba

long slow road to equanimity stretches far ahead, distorted by sunstroke induced hallucinations, delusions of grandeur guaranteed by new toilet seat

obscured by cloud, the righteous dispute perceived flash promises of non-stop wall-to-wall sunshine on venture out

itchy feet pandemic induces potassium permanganate price hike on world markets, espadrilles nationalized in Atlantis

huge wave of despair sweeps over low self esteemers—
what is the incidence of Alopecia in Appalachia?

Dorset five held indefinitely by Etruscan potwallopers, Foreign Office remain vigilant. Time is of the essence.

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