Grimbeau

Scroodles

woodsmoke in your hair

Adpool

 

i cover the alphabet the long way round
Italy sells its seaports to China
notions of must do’s occur to me
in the National Portrait Gallery
kind of feeling
smug all over
stomp stomp stomp
glad all over
Spring! Spring!! Spring!!!
Trump you fucker jump
Jump into this here blanket
The we’re holding down below
He jumped
Hit the deck
Broke his fucking neck
There was no blanket
Laughed?!
We almost shat
We have not laughed so much since Auntie Beeb
Caught her left tit in the mangle
We are evil fuckers
Miserable Sinners
Dirty Fuckers
Arseholes
The dogwatch thence departed
(last observed said beast sniffing dewy tuffets,
pissing on low hanging catkins,
and trotting down the path easy wagging)
People who smoke too much smoke get smokey

Twilight of the Elites

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Scrapbook scrapbook
On the wall
Roofless
House in
donegal

 

Twenty days into March
And Guess what
got an equine ox
Half horse: half brisket
Ride it milk it
Horsey cow
Snooty bitch
Whip it! Whip it!
Down on Oddity Farm
We are devo
D E V O

Hangry Saddos Sing This Song…

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so
we ate the agenda,
watched our hirelings make smoke,
found time to sit back                                                                                                                                                                  mindful full of dread
of the hectic times ahead:
‘Love is like a bird on the ocean…’
remarked the thin lipped minion
without portfolio as the

light broke overhead

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