Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: creative non fiction

State of the Union: Distressed

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we all feel down in bad weather
stuck indoors counting blessings
declavring war on last nights washing up
weighing up plusses and minuses
of invisibility and amnesia

bad servant memory skives off
feast days and bank holidays
taking bloody liberties
with the milk of mutant kindness
constrained by clamour
in the pantry garden

the camera never cries
the piecrust never seeped
gravy when you blew it
encouraging the meatball
to make a run for it

Florence of Arabia

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Ten days from Persepolis I find is quite enough
devious hand signals indicate the time to go is now
All Stan and Ollie clumsiness must be timed to sheer perfection
A well oiled ex machina riding for a maul
weaved from exotic jade bracken speeds through curve ball air:
Beaches and obelisks obsess my waking thoughts of late
like prime numbers leaning on a wall
denigrating muesli as opium for the masses
A healthy balance diet always has its knockers
Victor Frankenstein had a tale or two to tell I bet
The smell of chicken rises as Igor ends up in a birdbath

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)

Scintillation Street

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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

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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

Happitalismus Rules KO

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IMAGINE a handful of bitesize hunkettes
grinding and eschewing odds and winnow gunk
as wheat gets beat from from dusty chaff;
a’harvesting for instant potassium milords;
ill and non directed groups share
no such similarities;
no such what as absolutes in such
matters
of incidental fiction;
manipulation of a squashy universe of racketeers, bogus schemes and brutal intrigues:
That’s Life—thats Happitalismus; so sundry fictive people say
just look the other way if you know what’s good for you;
plenty more lying around to fill your brambled mind with;
such as…such as…such as…
This
* it is worth noting that the child whose father refused to purchase a bow wow succumbed to her injuries
as a wallflower met a sticky end stood up too close to the warm glow of endless possibility
grip it firmly shake it hard squeeze each last drop out grasshopper
rigid condensed uptight desperate dabblings in matters
outwith all known comprehension clearly aren’t your forte

Groupthinks

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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 Milkman Cometh

GLASS CEILING

 

 

check to see what that note
is in that cyan bottle
really do I need that wash
that banking thing perplexes me
that extinction rebellion take lambeth bridge
police stage that media retreat
world in that commmotion
workers of the world that relax
the milkman that made it through

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Property is Deft

The Indian Summer of the Tory 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 & texted Henry so
Henry knew Edward G was heinous culpable and twigged at once he had to go.
After all the yoke was full with blistered aubergines, midget broccoli festooned the architraves, and a hairless Headcase looked perturbed wrapped only in a samphire throw.
At heart the man was 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
Think of the afterthrill of eating chocolate in the dark and feeling a little moist.
But it was all a charade. The long positions still held firm on cupidity and smarm
Peregrine was out a sea huntin marlin for Veronica. Nailed up and bleeding effluent from
every orifice he was hooked, lined and blinkered
Lesser narwhals would fold under such pressure and morph into glum beauticians sweeping up
in seedy nail bars.
This was not Cedric’s script. He sought delineation.
Things were simply matters to
order and control.
He set off for the bakery.

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