by grimbeau




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