Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: microfiction

Tate Little

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

beksinski2

landscapes & portraits

awesome collections adorn

miniature still lives

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Badgers Cum Home to Roost

English pastorale:
Beware! Trespassers will be
Indoctrinated

Alptraums Ltd

While walking naked
Into the gas chamber one felt
A certain thrill at
one’s predicament:
bereft as one is of Ambassadors
Plenipotentiaries, creeps
& other former fellow
travellers
on the groovy train
to Gobbledegook Central

Nonetheless is more or less
A condition of extreme despair
Energises oneself to crave
A morsel to eat…
Or is it a trick
To lure me from this
Earth shat-a-ring-a-roses
Endeavour?
Like twits leave sinking ships
~
Tree up (this time round)
On the deal (what)I made
Wit (ha-ha) myself & eye…
One before breakfast
thirteen days a week
for twenty nine days
~
How could I possibly
Make a telling difference
Without self-regulation?
Better word up quick
Stop flying by the seat
Of my sovereignty
Call a May Election
Climb a few more Alptraums
Mourn far distant Maidenhead

Le Crunch

Ingratitude did not come easy to Adam at first, but he told me that once you get the hang it, it soon becomes a firm favourite with all the family, & creating just the right environment for it to thrive results in endless time consuming diversion…
—You’re obsessed! I thought, but he was my man and I did not want to prick his bubble
—What do you fancy to eat? I said
—Apple crumble, he replied contemplating apathy
The air grew thick with orange blossom.

~
—Maculate misconceptions are more frequent than first meets the eye, said the Omniscient Narrator, looking straight into camera two. And to me it seems somehow inevitable that this little episode will precede a fall to end all falls
—Well you should bloody well know, I thought, knowingly
Adam began to weep in despair, smelling trouble in the air, and cursed the green lentil stew for provoking his melancholia, exploiting his innocence.
—Fuck the crumble! I thought, angrily crunching the rosy apple, which, it must be said, tasted everso tangy if not a little toxic

~

Before I knew it I was flat on my back writhing in ecstasy with an Anaconda watching on, reading Constrictor’s Monthly, and smiling benignly at my antics
—You been at the apples, I see, it said in a broad, warm, matriarchal brogue
—Am I still in Eden? I asked
—No, Cirencester, the Serpent replied. All the apples you want here, my dear. Truth be told that’s all there fucking is. Excuse my French.
—Original Sin, I sobbed
—Non, mon petit dejeuner, said the Anaconda. Golden Delicious.

Honky Tonk Shaman…

Timidly in new boots & scanties
Checking through messages
Lost in space in time
Pull blinds back…one two three cars

Unusual: three suspect pallets
strew non-conformist corners
heads jack-knifed on thin ice
black hole spills its load

All is quiet on New Year’s Day
Repeats on me like
Suspect mackerel
Wished my nostrils

happy birthday
Instead of New Year
Onset doolally
Or transubstantiation?

The clue lies in the carpet—
Cleopatra is present
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

A Work of No Literary Merit

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

HST

Five hundred before

legendary lost lunchtime

Torrential London

buses, easy similes,

heavy workload for

eternal editors,

that which is permanently

out to luncheon,

wield escutcheon spoon

limply with panache

seas contain plenty fishes

most worth throwing back

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Ectopuss

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

oakoak8_260714

kept from the saddle by sleep and cider,

nestled in this cluttered room, this dimlit

hibernation station, wallow fallow in

the gathered gloom, the afternoon moon

this is the time for those who dream in daytime,

those who gather and hunt, those who like me

watch from windows, making shade from shadow,

form from substance, the things that dreams are made on.

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Santa Clues

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

marx_2426148k

To meet

face to face

my face and me

to gaze agog

on a sea of me.

A sea

of sudden time

surrounds, breaches,

fills my head from source:

one bright  blithe crystal

on the russet titanium floor,

caught in a chance manner,

a blip,

a pulse,

the fading morning bonnet fleets.

Gone as quick as it came,

we chanced a profound sorrow to part

and were gone.

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Morning becomes Electric

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

moon & venus

Cool moon and Venus,

thick tar bipolar cable

stands in for a horizon,

shutter your left eye

frame it all in one clean

elongated myopic square

careful to include

 insignificant details-

bare rowan twigs,

fragile mildew gilded boughs,

beatified by sun,

bronzed as clean new gold.

(midwinter berries perish

in robust spring storms,

eaten by cold doves,

or down drains

flapping about

like sink spiders floundering

in numinous U-bends

under sinks

all over the world).

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Land without Bread

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

Tea tree pungency

Midday twenty three.

Kilbride’s secret went

to the grave with him

everso tiny

peanut butter sandwiches

stitched into his stomach lining

there were no flies on Kilbride

just wasps and hornets

Pretty common for late August

In Andalucía

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