The Threepenny Bit Opera
Coming up to six.
End of nice days
after tomorrow
just
for a few weeks.
Auric sun on pink wall,
new bronze age.
Savers saved,
survivors not.
So no cause for concern
then:
Sufficient unto the day
is the evil thereof?
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Magic Realism
March 19, 2014
Dawned on me…
Oxen stare out
ankle deep in mud
catch a flaxen
burst of lux gold sax.
The procession nears:
Madame Charcot,
her Footmen,
borne by
mute lace makers.
They pass,
Waving waxen,
lit by Tilley Lamp
and near full
plumb
moon.
Here to replace
the sleeper.
Then
After that
Matins and Martini.
Misery lurks in the long grass,
armless and still,
like good gone west.
March 18, 2014
PM
No post today
Blog and door.
Busy
being unknown by
and to the outside world.
Inside
howsoever
the world was
mad hectic:
sitting reading, eating,
staring, smiling, scowling,
snarling, sighing, tutting
spitting, speaking, saging,
mulling, musing, chuckling,
nodding, turning, snooping,
slurping, sighing, smoking,
standing, stepping, shaking…
That’s Quite Enough
words commencing
with ‘s’ for now.
March 17, 2014
Crimea River
Clouds over,
have a grey
smoke – good is
always too
good to last.
Glanced at this
‘…golden words
turn to dust,
war makes you
platitudinous…’
Thinks: Duckbill
Platypus.
A boring
genius
scatters wise
word seed on
stony ground.
Duck Bill sees.
Eats them quick
before the
blue parrots.
Slips back in billabong.
Polygon.
March 16, 2014
Floot
An hour later
the faff is on.
Sun is out,
chicks tweet
in ply fascia,
ulster hymns hum,
care will come
and relieve
Mafeking
peace and quiet
March 16, 2014
Nut Screws Washer & Bolts…
Us
ungulates are unkosher!
Just old scribes,
shrewmice, shaphams
and hairy sausages.
Rocking dassies,
silver tassies,
the pals of Hyrax,
rotund small,
agile things
Ding-a-Lings
March 16, 2014
Bag a Bunnie!
Rabbits
scatter
helter-skelter.
Red risen sun,
Blue gun smoke
on an ill wind,
Sundays in Spring
Bag a Coney
for your honey.
Get old Tony
skin and gut it,
chop it,
jug it,
or,
quite simply,
let it stew,
like hate
and lentils.
March 15, 2014
Tantrum
everything
is
post…worthy
john peel mind rock
zest lime fig leaf:
See!
We quibbled,
she queried.
I squabbled, pram toys. Suck thumb
mendaciously.
Egg fried rice in best sock.
Crippling!
Enact plan
dusk time
March 15, 2014
Overtime
Do-da-do-da-day…
at wadis elands
sip and natter,
hippos chew over
schedules and spreadsheets,
a baboon breaks cover
to bag a lax flamingo…
The sleepy papergirl wends
deftly shutting gates behind her,
delivers her wares:
vaporises,
sun beats flush soft
surges on verges…
more vainglorious burblings:
chattering classes
do not pay to rent
my ears with plummy guff,
hoarse hacks heckle, and snooties
snotter and guffaw.
True Sloth don’t rise.
Nine bleeps.
The leather hunters make bone soup,
dowse piss on the curing hides.
Red Lorry due at ten
Yellow lorry twelve
March 14, 2014
That was not a Pipe
So, farewell Tony Benn,
wild eyed scion of socialist stuff,
that was not really a pipe,
it was surreal
like lobster telephones,
and soggy clocks.
My mate Terry always
mistook you for Dennis Skinner,
but you were thinner on top.
Anyway, he won’t make the same
Mistake again
I hope.
Grimbeau 