Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: cinema

Oliphants & Berserkers

O'Morse where art thou

 

 

ain’t got no time for messing; original thought sought; panic brought forth nowt; busy morning to chew over;
a bitter campaign; internecine warfare in the shires; who drew that line in the land?

the wind gets up apace whipping up a storm a white island volcano coughs its disapproval causing five
to perish on a far off event horizon

black holes are practicising cannibals that will eat eachother in the end engendering a pompous rumpus in
the parly houses that remain

it was then it dawned on me it was midwinter and i ought to make sacrifice to fuck all and ensure the bucklers
are fit for purpose

it was noted as odd when the supply train arrived before the vanguard and the smell of sizzling bacon
entranced our half starved elephants and berserkers

Flavella found paltry the consolation of knowing that persistence was its own reward as she gathered lilacs
in the spring scattered on the ringpull strand

just before afterwards…

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…nobody seen talking when one arrived and one left on a mission to Coventry  (a unique silence fell)
felt nothing no matter how hard could not relate felt very awkward (a true quality of
light)
concave faces impress with natural reluctance to crack smiles while sedentary ( a screw came loose)
on return the ashtrays and coffee cups were absent without leave incidentally (a hound bayed blue)
stranglers and burglars concluded the account of recent deft grand larcenies ( a smell of tranquil ear)

Burning Bash

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—Burnt out, or so you say. All burned out. Dried up, but like what—wadi or toast, wreck, ruin, candlestick or freak storm? Where there’s life…where there’s life. That’s what they always say
—Toast it is then: crusty brown wholemeal toast burnt black, iffy thermostat…
—Not bad, not bad at all
—No heart & soul mind you
—Husky, though, even a little dusky (ha-ha)
—Coffee brown roasted funnel dregs
—Still damp!
—Left out when the sun was at it’s…
—Zenith?
—Strongest
—Wow…that is real burnt!

The plague years, they said, burn themselves out.
A peculiar variety of auto da fe
It would seem to have been
Divinely ordained.

Fire starter & hosepipe surge; belle, bookie, & candelabra!
Have they moving the furniture around again?
Yes. They never stop it these days.
so much so sunshine & showers
seldom clash these days.
So well do they behave themselves.
And clouds no longer burst.
Not since many a long year.
Dry as salvages we are:
Mesos, stackpoles, arid drumlins…
Only lithographs remain,
ink shadow plays, traced on distressed concrete,
splashes wink on toppled sarsens, drizzle laps on banished dolmen…
sure it’s better than nothing, anything’s better than splat:
‘That’s what they always say’
—a coalition of crackpots, by gum!
Well Would you Adam & Eve it?
Iron Sadie morphs up
before your very bleary eyes
It defies all common sense, she said.
It ought not be allowed, she bled.
Curtains shut below but not above,
marked down the mental sentinel
Must have Gone to Hull in a handcart
On the run in Kingdom come
Caught red handed bonkers in
Fingers in the till
Golden City of tiny lies,
Pottersville emits more heat than light
ominous stench of ordure
So who was it scared the horses?
All enemies are liars
I am an enemy
Cogito ergo summer suit
Pass me a government
I think there’s one in my rainbow
Shunshine & showers wee small hours
Aha! Red biddy bam a lamb
It’s a blunderful midwife
This should never have happened
To us Old Newtonians
As June defines an end to May—

Think this this → Here
So read the legendary
stAte called (t) Ired
in-Comprehending
optionless, prone, akimbo,
gersplatted after
The Fall
The fall
takes it clean out of a body
in unholy smoke!
(that in which it all goes up)

watch it go up quick then
pfffhhhszz!
Vertical matchbox soaked in sun
The floor was too hot to walk
Back in nineteen eighty one
No-go area then: nowhere area when?

Some say emergency were slow
Slower than a fireball is fast
Grenfell tower, Latimer road
Notting hill, West London showed
Up, up, up, for what it’s worth
A charnel house in a sea of dearth

Pierrot

Ben

 

Raves end down by the river dusk
full of puffing steamers
bracing gusts of sleet
smell of miniver & musk–

braciers glow on the pierhead
under a mackerel sky
a fisher cops a whopper
and smiles like Spencer Tracy

Smellyvision

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Smoke and toxic mists,
akin to when the bass descends
too slow for easy listening,
treacle aroma from burnt rubber bands,
green onions supply a smell of jasmine.

The toe pain subsided three hours after
a lengthy tender cushioning in coaltar,
then we caught the end of comic Rochester
find Orson air brushed pretty boy,
hamming tall dark handsome blind oaf

Room in an Elephant

yellow2

 

 

Patches of coherence cloaked in faded motley,
drawled Kansas City Enrico,
shoeless clad in shreds and patches gleaned from hand me downs,
eiderdowns, the recently drowned, and ignoring
frowns declaimed:
‘Cherokee apache crow nez perce… bury my head in them wounded hearts, them sounds of burning tinsel sizzling,
iterneee chattels, long forgotten heirlooms louch on sickly sofas
neckless headless fu manchu’ed…
How the day grew from seed of doubt to a fruitless evening of remembrance,
it will not grow old like the rest of us

Scintillation Street

cobalt_violet_overview

 

Phone kaputt, foot stingling, grey skies. mid November, poppies out
toast and marmite, neuronal go slow, where’s the nurse. changed pants

pulled down the wall, no hard feelings, let bygones be bygones. forgave
and forgot; appeal to greed; feed false appetites; chew over the fat over

the weather to come when the water cascades down the Appenines
hit twelve after struggling hard rawfooted through Bad Toe Gulch,

ruffled jackdaw shares with me acute consternation at the heavy frost
settling on the chocolate slates on the empty house in Lima

brackish water slakes mad thirst, one twenty in the shed, chronic
overcrowding I say when pressed and later consult a random saviour
with magenta eyes

Carmine Lakes

vandyke_overview

 
The task before you
is to take the mood of last years
winning of the esteemed competition and tell it from a
fresh perverted angle, let’s say wobbly omniscient for starters…

Three insistent knocks distracted him, the dog went off soon after.
He got up and saw the small white van: the opioids had made it.
Earlier on while watching Idol on Parade, musing on Bowie’s heroes,
and working out when exactly the truck full of dead Chinese bought it,
he had taken an opioid to kill the pain in his oracular toe.

The original is a story of divorce and reconciliation
which when the drugs took hold ended in an aircrash caused by
a wayward roguish drone, collapses in hysterics;

Fate, predestination, and indolence hide in waiting
all contained in a white lozenge that disintegrates in water.
He drew the grid for a Celtic knot haphazardly.
There were no children involved in this thought experiment.
They had perished the night they lost it
racing to not miss the last boat leaving.

What did it matter now?
There is water under the bridge.
Beware! Loose Chippings and
Smash.
That was the best thing she said

Groupthinks

awesome_photos_collected_from_history_13
We threw it all away some say (mirthless prissy lips make snide asides…Buddies burst in occasionally)

Sometimes they come from outer space
grumbling like oriental chainsaws smelling of mellow fellow peril:

 

silver trembles on emerald leaf splits the sky wide open rents flaked out in gauze tropospheres sedation sifting though space junk

plunder in the sparse first light rooftop silhouette
opposite a chocolate rhombus
—a pollarded alp sprouts crumbly chimney stumps
a decapitated toblerone
topped off by a
crown green nurdle crest

Rest up on a rigid khaki stook
bladderwrack moonbeams toy
wrack stacks wobble stop
precariously perched betop

Its burden cast away
crumbledown mountain
Perambleside peaks

***

Under which the above
little fat boy wants outies
Cader Idris sizzles
protesting the right foot forward
scree flurries lapping
to reek havoc & rage & rumpus
prospect of an avalanche blomange
confined to poxy screenplay drosswork
deemed unfit for family fun
cross legged zapping seagulls with a crossbow
winging be hard blackbirds
Drives off broke folks hopping mad

grinding anthracite briquettes
coal shed solitary refinement converting then to coke hatching
audacious escape plans prompts a sudden urge to defecate
running out of temperance due silence compromised by windsock

Paradiddle drip on porchway overflowing gutters flow
an ardent dew fell overnight: Harley Hill rests in peace
The square left fallow to Emerge

*

The Cocked Up Party

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Cedric found the Marquess of Coole spreadeagled on the Ottoman with the ‘Half Life
Of Snails’ in her bloodless grip & posted the footage on Snuffchat so Henry knew
Edward G was still at large capable of unspeakable atrocity. After all the drawing room
was full up with blistered aubergines, midget broccoli festooned the architraves, and
a hairless Headcase whimpered soulfully wrapped only in a samphire ballgown.
At heart Henry had twigged the man was just a pushy upstart from Central casting;
the one they always let through, the dead loss leader, the hollow idol to kill off with
strychnine on a wet afternoon but the uranium ran out at the wrong time

Think of the afterthrill of eating chocolate in the dark and feeling a little moist afterwards.
It was all pff course and a huge charade. The long positions would still hold firm on cupidity and smarm, he thought of Peregrine out at sea huntin marlin for that snitch Veronica. Nailed up and bleeding effluent from every orifice he was lost, hooked, lined and blinkered by her gums. Henry understood too well how lesser narwhals would fold under such pressure and morph into slum beauticians sweeping up in delapidated nail bars. But this was not Cedric’s script. He always sought delineation. For him things were simply matters to order and control. With that in mind Henry set off for the bakery.

Cool shrooms and anchovy bisque, homespun alphabetti spaghetti:sounds illegible; fungal magic soused in honey.Cheryl really had pushed the boat out this time. Always too keen to please. After all
she was born nutritionist: worst acne I ever saw. She wore a homespun hood with slits to breathe and see. Takes all sorts suppose. They call her Elephant Woman. But never to her face you understand.
Well I mean how can you? Inappropriate

Some farewell letter you’d agree. Henry was agog. Edward G had legged it for good. All hell breaks loose in the utility room. The kittens go bananas at the sight of giant mouse. Henry takes a powder. A smell of camphor burning. Whose stockinged feet are poking out this time? Colonel fucking Sanders?
Smell him all over.

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