Paling to significance,
Brad the Impaler, a pied butcher bird,
whistles a chirpy tune
(Imagine, if you will,
a melodic baritone
bicycle here)
and skewers a shrew for the barbie.
Life read and heard in tooth and claw,
one sighs through clenched teeth.
‘This is all the weather you get,
so you’d best enjoy it…Grrghh!’
says a balaclavad scimitar weatherman.
I will, I will!
Promise I will, croons Brad.
Enshroudment lifts space waste face
consumptives wake up grasping
fog obscures year’s end
taking one more day
as it were for granted
hamstrung formless fug
contrives a list worth forgetting
muttering snidely:
auctions speak louder than words
citing crumbling masonry
fast ebbing sands of time
drawing inevitable
conclusions on the seawall
Soft! A milkman clinks
Stumbles through the gloop fetching
discounted chocolates all
the way from bonkers Belgium
and bumper size toilet rolls
meticulously trialed on
pliant Labrador puppies
in magnolia kennels
cute revelations
disguised as migraines
prance on stem cell floors
tinsel blubs a fond farewell
to European Europa
1.1.2017 – A
Sunday (as it happens)
Timidly in new boots & scanties
Checking through messages
Lost in spacey time
Pull blinds back…one two three cars
Unusual: three suspect pallets
at non-conformist corner:
head jack-knifed on thin ice
black hole spilt its load
All is quiet on New Year’s Day
Repeats on me like
Suspect holy mackerel
Wished some cousin a happy birthday
Instead of New Year
Onset doolally
Or transubstantiation?
The clue lies in the carpet—
Cleopatra is wrapped up
If not quite with it
Still beggars can’t be choosers
& Donald where’s your trousers?
The wind blows high blows low
Over hollow land
Silly Land
Winter showers
Daylight hours
Few & far between
Fear no fear
Brand new year
Cloudy muddy scene
Chrimbo limbo days
Wasteland flyaways
Mellow month away
From St. Bridget’s Day
After showers
Lamplight hours
Near and close between
Far off spring
Bluebell ring
Rowdy crowded dream
Monday, 02 January 2017
Now consider this
Photoshop malingering
Hanging on the wall
Still life crow reservation
Clambering for attention
Ascending F6
Nothing better to do
Fifty eighth birthday climb
Panoramic view
Bewilderment as far as
Cloud cover permits
The eye to wonder
This advantage point
Affords no contradiction
Crazy hawks circle
Contemplating Toblerones
Fraught with anticipation
oozing saliva
Eschatology dribbles
Drips from slow airliners
Replicate drizzle
Reichenbach or Angel Falls
Smatters not to I & i
Over the rainbow
Worldly Weirdo Maps
Corpulent regent’s belly
Full of wind & piss
Town & Vandal Planning Act
Gargantuan appetite
Slimmer of the Year
Just resist everything
Butt redemption
Handy disapproval
pricks your inner ear
False conch shell less
Previous tenant—
A mongoose called Fred
Swapped strange towns for elephants
& monopods for dogmen—
Many unhappy returns
To Serenity & Beyond…
1
Sun inside, sun outside, hens free.
It’s quarter to three: to my right is a hyacinth blue hyacinth,
elsewhere a dove coos.
Why no workies?
Smirkies, shirkies, quirkies…
Focal plane down the drain.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
2
Woke on the water, choir in the sky.
Lost habit, out of the swing.
Naked apeshit visit.
Longers.
Two two two will not do: simply nots.
Time not spent at it.
…
Pomes and yarns roam and darn days, nights, hours and showers: eats, drinks, & sleeps. That’s the trick, Mick.
Here’s a right one.
Duck!
Crystal was shattered. Ratty Vanfrau was at the ablates again. Queer going altogether. Formegandros was a right old wrench to leave. Never spurn a taverna. Still tempers fugit…
`His head’s gone.` observed the rookie.
‘Tis the time of year for it.’ said the chainsaw massacre cast.
‘Not that bloody rubbish again.’ Cried the…
View original post 53 more words
So right on
Bump and grind.
Sweat & simper.
Pass the crimper,
Adrienne, got a right one ear.
Scissor schwesters steeling snippers.
Castration: a Tomean’s rite to shoes.
Sweetbreads and old heads tail the culprit,
The lactiferous Mrs Vase. Yes, shedunnit.
With the wimple in the temple,
aided and abetted by Drudge, the Sphincter.
A distincter demon was there not.
This side of Hieronymus Dosh
…aside from scrub
scatted Street Legal,
flew solo around
the warm grey upstairs
spreading love
and affection with
my every breath.
I had a pony:
its name was Lucifer…
Missed that bit,
now lost my thread correcting it – blithe spirit indeed!
Blind panic panda at the door popped in for bamboo shoots and leaves.
Then
back to Ma Jong and the tiling mosaic that
I am trying to sort in my spare time.
Gobsin calls with silly boy tales, same every year.
Not in the mood for Drood just now
and
should be showered, instead I have a luminescent crimson bear become,
wrapped up for the incoming and the outgoing.
Waiting calmly, apprehendlessly.
Quick brown lazy jump over sly fox.
Needing a feeding
Dobedobedo…monster of deception,
keeper of the tricks, yield to my oeuvre.
Eggs and interruption beckon,
Douched ruched taffeta kneepads;
the end is listless, granite dust dry sponges,
hard as cold toast, brieze block lites whey
like cranberries in wensleydale – yuk!
Auto-dramaturgy allergy attack.
DNP (for it is):
Quickly! The screeds are coming for dinner!
Wild pure violet
Mocks chaotic undergrowth
Softens jaded knaves
Makes blind rambling fools
Cease galloping delusion
Most every dusk
I am obliged
To check
the lobster pots
fourteen crooked
steps
(there are rusted
Wobbly rails)
Most nights zilch
However
Sometimes
In the lapping
Crouched desperate
Grey as granite
In favoured splash
One is caught,
Trapped
In time by tide
Grimbeau 