Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Jazz

Stagecraft

poohsticks gone eleven
lesser spotted orangemen
after their endeavourings
removing crud
from one’s broken footpath
and sublime resurfaced road—
tootled out to sneak a keek in
my little black boxers,
gait of a failed weightlifter,
minus safety belt and talcum powder,
and exaggerated out blasts
of plump me up breath;
Xmas card
from ‘Jason, your devoted milkmaid’.
Blake & the Gilchrists, Palmer the Painter (not the poisoner, or was he?)
Sub-bucolic seditious
portrayals just show the hell of rural life—groan unpleasant land yield up your fish!
Either way
they brought Mad Blake deserved fame·
after all that’s all that matters·
resurfacing·
rediscovery·
readershipwreck·
~
Mad panning meeting:
sludge, silt, plastic beads,
Jock McRock—lapsed mason,
Well bonkers demi-scourge
bristling with bad ideas and good intent,
impresario in the do’s and don’ts of anarchio,
former surgeon to pinocchio— slopes of early
into that good night of sturgeon’s seed
& introverted ptamigan’s
Eggs Benedictine
Compensate for tedium
Pitiful compensation:
Mandelbrot chipolatas spark
Kaleidoscopic twilight…
Gerraway with you!

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Escapology

Prospect of Summer
in the Peak District provides
A pleasing enough distraction
From progressive viola
A Popedream well worth puffing on…
Six o’clock roll trolls droll dread
AA Gill—he Dead
Famous for fifteen minutes
Nothing like Andy Warhol
He’s been dead famous for yonks
A Larkin moment!
Brass rubbing in Matlock Bath
If it’s not been pinched by oiks
In Purple Brothel Creepers
Hanging round coffee houses
Contemplating patricide
No good to man or beast
If the truth be known

Ode to a Lincolnshire Sausage

Such wondrous feasting!
make intransigence
give way to transformation
ghostly dead grey days dissemble
autonomous motion pictures
inanimate manikins
submit to buff lamination
& stringent English Mustard

The Invisible Sixth

Traffic trumps ethics clucks…read a bit, listening to gnomes & druids
Swaggering clouds puff dragon’s teethy briar pipes…
Milton in fetters, Blake O’Blumenthal.
Blake’n’Pinball—Marriage of Heaven and Hell
All time top score!

Mummblings inner cavernous sports hall near Hemel Hempstead
Mystical masterpieces…and why knitty-knot?
Kind hearted adult rage
Incandescently
Go follow your bliss—mental composer!

Clay, Eveline…who are you kidding, Bud?
Lazy putz, busking it, busking it sloppily
It is not writing, is it?
Just not as we know it, Radar

Smoked salmon rags,
house radish sauce &
flash green brain salad sandwich
scourge my philistine god
Afternoon preoccupied
Chewing on it
Repenting at leisure—
In the belly of the fish
Monsters! All shapes & sizes
Variety of small grain boxes
‘what d’you want today?’
The invisible sixth one

…two doors down

red cross parcel  weird ripped

Open by calm alacrity

Strident cumulus

Any colour you pick out twice

Peculiar paint box bollard

(at this juncture-named red house—

You know the old barns?)

Straw broke tallow willow

Sceptred broken leather clasp

Strange Misericord

makes definition

stop making sense by

form without we breathe

 

Cryostat

Go attend those dismal drapes
cheapest seventies vintage tat
lurid floral potato prints
emitting neither light nor heat
prize them open to reveal
a frosty morning, frosted green
frosted black, frosted silver
frosted yellow cars, parked up
neatly by frosty drivers
living cryogenic lives

L’America

So...
friendly strangers came to town
now guess what you did
you made enemies of them
go find yourselves
smart ass fair weather friends
you ain't riders on the storm
your just pishogues
in the solar wind
so that's what pinko lefties
bang on about till your sick
of hearing it any more
...and the sky is wide
just like in the old days when
people used to dream on you

 

Earlybirdies

Cold turkey chasers
Chain smoking peccadilloes
Twenty four seven
extinguish milk bottles
pending replacements
A nice drop of air cascades
On the woodland hideaway
Two crooked ravens
hell bent on mere survival
strike trade deals over roadkill
during mad rush hour

An Impostor Falls

 

Wichita Lineman
pitches up 
out of the blue 
Lacuna
inquiring:
 Was you not once a carpfish
 plagued by crippling doubts
 about a distant golden
 age of innocence?

Yes,I  was once that Carpfish

You confirm resonantly
with disarming brevity
quasi-presidentially
semi-residentially
taking it all in 
your jackboot 
crushing a face 
stride

making cryptic hand signals
in clipped bespoken 
cabalistic tongues

Yes. I was that Carpfish:
for old halibuts die hard
go hang a sharp left at 
Cape Codology

there
bipolar dancing bears picnic
out on melting strawberry 
ice floats on mustard

wallowing in unabashed self-pity
seconds before the bullet
hit you in the forehead

Trespassers will be Executed
read the flashing pulsar
over the black horizon
 




 

mute ballerina

christian forbearance
instinctively took up wing
walking fearing to
look back in anguish