by grimbeau


Irrupts surge in rent
open permanent up torrent
firmament redundant bluff
abundance waits on
thunderstorms to pass fast
judgement is found remorseless
for thrall the best
in the sparseness of time immemorialised by fleeting potwallopers .
Yipes! William Faulkner and 1244, decorative Gothic meets the peer plan
documentary hungry for knowledge to feed enfeeble headtones
after Danish pastry pig out.
Ooo that falling wall,
claxon sounds, run like buggery,
watch out for falling scaffold, crumbling masonry, she’s going,
timbers creak, buttresses flying solo, gargoyles bite the dust,
a great levelling has its ups and downs as well as highs and lows,
be carefree what you wish for,
be not so dour nuncle,
there’s fuck all left for you here.
Hit the road Jerk,
and dontya come back no more, No more. There’s a thought. No more.
Put that in your Pope and smirk it.
Get you over the hump it will.
The hump? Figure of bad posturing breeds Hump.
Son of Grunt and Thump, mate of Drug and Slump,
came out like frog up pump, ended up with frump.
Semi precious Rump

Some rain we had while shrivelled up eating chunky cheeseburgers,
water was flooding down the hill no doubt.
Emergency traffic lights installed—intrepids in waders stride out.
Tractors Hydroplaning nowhere fast.
Inconvenient to basking water buffalo, Joe. What’s it about?
Four afternoons. After the clouds burst.
Out in torrents Choirboys cast off the yolk in raucous broken vocals.
Elderflower winos.
Caught out between showers.
Call to adventure.
Put me in a home alone. Chide me not for fumbling. A room with a not you in it.
insisting be nice or we’ll ignore you,
leave you to stew in your juice until
you learn to please and thank the lord.
No second childhood here luv
—old age stinks to high heaven.
Thanks but no thanks very much.
Count your hidden pills. Consult the almanac.
Last day of May. Off with the clout.
World cup and Wimbledon make it all worthwhile somehow.
Jackdaws drop sticks down chimney pots.
Now where did Mabel leave that shotgun?