Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: blogging

Hero

220px-Desnos

 

Robert Desnos

Read

My

Palm

Benny the Boxer

BLOG_nabokov

Gremlins can piss

on the Pope

best not do

it on his

Mother

As it Happens

Dejeune Dada

 

Wild notes:

A bit of a whopper!

 

Had to get these down before I got stuck

cheroooted to the table.

Thanks to Danny Baker.

 

Warmed my butt and sacrum

with the oat and lavender bags

flicked through the morning stations for

distraction,

inspiration,

information –

in short, company.

Other voices.

 

Came across the Danny Baker Show,

a show I like and always forget to listen to

I am so bogged down in my listening ways.

 

The item was about Greenland’s timezone-less centre;

how they called it Greenland because Vikings

wanted to deter invaders from their cherished Iceland;

another item mentioned ‘thundersnow’

and I was away. Up for it, writing came first

and I made some jots:

 

These are they.

 

Saturday mornings Punk Odyssey

Drongo pomes dialogue.

 

The Vanmitzvah;

 

little feral red van

becomes

big red van/bus does

not stop at my gate.

 

Passed by a boy: came back a man.

Returned, emerged.

Apple in a football ground.

Thundersnow on a lowlight

 

 

 

 

 

Chatanooga Chu-chu

 

 

shocking-old-photos-8

There we are.

Banged one out, as they say;

never mind who. They do.

Whomsoever this they is.

I do not know…

She fibbed.

And she knew that I knew too.

If you want to find out, like I do, call her at:

Pennsylvania 65000.

I can’t get through.

The reception is dreadful

in this carriage.

Perhaps I’ll try the caboose

after luncheon.

Jumpers!

hand chat

 

Growing colder fast,

sat wrapped up under

duvet,

sporting historic giant purple Woolly.

‘Long Arm’s, hasn’t he?’ said the mother knowingly.

‘Yes, very’ replied the daughter: curtly.

Cutely.

 

The arms on the blue one are very odd

The measurements were given over the

Telephone:

In real time.

 

 

 

 

Canyon

William-Scott-s-The-Harbo-011

I shot an arrow in the air

it quelled a Shriek

On

Finistere

Tearsday Song

1557453_625734367462430_1682054384_n

 

That sweet Blossom, Tearsday,

loved all things

Petunia,

Luxuriating

there whenever Chance permitted.

 

Chance was a creature of habit,

smiled on Tearsday three times

on Thursday mornings

between Shipping Forecasts.

 

Gerald the Burn-Out

dwelt in anti-cyclones,

and traipsed in murk and squall.

A most unlikely couple: Which they weren’t.

 

Kneading

1563d8c5-b405-4d33-811b-7922d19e4ac5-1960x2040

 

 

mould

a

boulder

on

a

shoulder

 

Coldfinger

tumblr_lumvgfSLrZ1qkvbwso1_500

 

Brinicle Times,

cynical, clinical

inimical times.

 

Winter fingers the bed

killing mites

most nights.

 

What am I for?

To breed

some more…

Feather Bucket

378-934x

 

He’s still there waving & grinning

and wish as hard as I can it remains

Shorty – the ghoulish clown:

giant daisy in a crimson bowler,

mouth like a  lewd, purple inner tube.

Striped, hoola-hoop held pantaloons

hanging off Moorish orange braces

glowing lime green socks

in burnt brown boots.