Music soothes the savage breast.
Death Metal springs to mind.
Put on your rusty chain mail vest.
Go find an axe to grind.
Roaring to the chemist
On your zimmer frame
The traffic cops then did you
For pissing in a drain
Fined or sent to prison
Condemned to spend your time
Moaning at the bus stop
It never leaves on time.
Here comes the sun to have a laugh,
a snigger, a check it out, a gloat at
little lives playing themselves out in safe,
unhappy scripts:
polishing, dusting, painting crypts.
Rolling tiffs, thinking cliffs, wind blowing quiffs,
In skipper’s beards, fucking weird.
And I sit in judgement. How fucking weird is that?
When I take the air and roam
the tombstones and monuments
the iron door clicks ajar –
the cycle is complete.
Only now the air is sound
is it safe to do the rounds.
When I check the last twitch,
the most challenging flitch,
the one at the top
of the heap grips the grill.
A zither plays loud mad brash.
I pull my sword and euthanize him.
Then & only then the loading can commence…
Cobwebs!
Touch it, feel it recoil
Membranous, nerved
Gathered in:
Repulsed
by
Gubbings
Jupiter turned
Up uninvited yesterday
Orrery trouble
Pop up half mill.
Say it again.
Pop up…light sill.
Comprises:
Dried flowers, heads well dead.
-‘allo Vera
-‘allo Grim
…
All I recall before the whirring blur…
Landrover in the hall.
Half banana & Muesli.
Cheesy cauli scoff by Bo.
Nix no more…
…
Spectacle respectable,
hi-silver scudders
heading Wenward.
Fade to mauve diluted grey.
Two crows lope left.
Stilled of a sudden.
A polyp in Port Said
abundant floribunda.
No man cast asunder
Met
The Jazz Singer
On foot:
Original
Talkie
Walkie
Al Jolson Sings Again
Freudian Tourette
offends fellow travellers
with slap of the tongue
a proverb
shared
is a
proverb
halved
Grimbeau 