Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: flash fiction
June 12, 2017
unClear tHeRmO wAr(ph)f ayRrie:
elecToral fAll ouT (eXtreme fey HoovaH- aTishoo! At issUe!! A Tissue!!!)
settEes gently All
aRound
(my HUt-n-TutT)
conStructive nOiseS (OMnes F-oFF!)
ecHoes in…
e.c. O’sHambles
scRumPLed Sand’s tOneD disneYlunTs
deR phoney war isT uBer
eLeveNth houR
(p)RepaRations
underwEggs fu:r
voleSoul sLaughter
June 11, 2017
Sleep Daphnia
Are you in a gourd place, a worth thee situation?
Culmination: Dulcimer Concerto with Verbs
If not, how not? Where are you? How are you? What is to be done?
Let me be & let me live!
In bed, in pain, in doubt, idling,
worrying, resisting, defying, ignoring,
avoiding, suffering, tormenting, confusing…
Sofa so good. Comfy sofa. Groovy duvet.
Womb somewhere. Luvverly.
Somewhere baby.
Rainbow.
Love glow: glove snow
Melt and moult.
Go Hen woman.
Cool and crispen oven…
Go, go, go-go
Pen woman…
Return to Zenda
June 11, 2017
a hundred years of attitude
many any adverse airy enough to question zeitgeists risk complicates rage not worthy of the dribble lavished on slum occupants
June 10, 2017
Daisy Lingers On…
—a coalition of crackpots, by gum!
Well Would you Adam & Eve it?
Irony ladies morphing into ragdolls
before your bleary eyes
denies defies all common sense, she sighs.
It ought not be allowed, she bled.
Curtains shut below but not above,
marked down by the mental sentinel
‘Must have Gone to Hull in a Handcart
hijacked on the run in Kingdom come’
or caught red handed
counting 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 Etonians, they say
As June provides an end to May—
June 8, 2017
Colloquy
—Burnt out, or so you say. All burned out. Dried up, but like what—wadi or toast, candle or 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
Quite Divinely ordained.
Fire starter & hosepipe; belle, bookie, & candelabra!
Have they been moving that furniture around again?
Yes. They never stop it.
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…
Lithographs remain,
mere shadowplays, traced on pre stressed concrete,
splashes on toppled sarsens, drizzle on banished dolmen…
sure it’s better than nothing, anything’s better than:
‘That’s what they always say’
June 7, 2017
Tard
False start, phantom urges,
torpid orchid, shy to leave.
Back down, board the junk,
Jesternista, caught a crab,
choppy weather, flayed on blether,
sever Trevor, war not love,
H-bomb ambrosia,
cream the pesky varmint rice.
Ring the changes, ding-a-ling.
There’s a thing. Hell’s got bells!
Jesus wept, overslept,
missed the bus, succubus.
Train to Darksville,
never late, never late, never late…
June 7, 2017
When Epidurals Take Stock
Stumbled, hugged, slurped,
puffed the grizzly, mizzly
still born grim morn
Away with the furies,
the septic harpies,
the skivvying puggled blurb,
the chivvying, nagging
behemoth of claptrap and piffle
squatting in my gnomic canyon.
The limescale crumbles line the mug
The unicorn dismantles the cradle
The dish does away with the spoon.
Everyone chips in when
Push comes to shove
At the heel of the hunt
June 6, 2017
Talula
‘What you want’s is a kick shit
editor!’
Said Sal
‘What you needs is
A cretinous creditor!’
Sal said as
I listened in silence
‘Love me Daddy, do’
Life’s full of compromises.
We smiled.
June 1, 2017
Simms
inside drag’s ragged hedge
fledgling woot suits sibilant
on saxophones edge
‘Each one counts’
‘yes, of course it does: each
And every one counts one more
Grimbeau 