Day began in dark
at five with roll-ups
and reheated coffee
radio news of butcher birds,
seasonal badger culls,
the lighting of a candle
forgotten prayers
sea weather prophecies
~
The light of day found
me playing pinball
biding time for the right
moment to unload
before hard labour
breaking feet in smokey rooms
lurching haplessly
between ashtray and crucible
Merryweather wins come ten—
crescent moon upstairs
swaying eucalytus silhouette —
somehow I forgot my name
so how did we sleep alright?
Simples complex dynamic?
Conquest of F=All
(lost Sherpa Tentpole halfway up)
Pylons Ltd—Auden & Nice Mick
Tragic consequence blizzard Venture—
still kept upper lelf stiff
Wanna let it go ‘Boum!’
but simply can’t-can’t—
Hibernian heatwave: Holy unlikely
precautionary tales, ambivalence, myopia—
cognitive indifference gains whiphand
aged big head up to his unusuals—
he read it in a babbling brook
‘You hum it & I’ll…
play it Django! Ran out of gas boys!
Walked back twenty miles I tell yous!
Le Figerio header say:
…Abandoned silver ghost found dead
doors agape on Cypress Avenue
mystery minstrel flees scene—
Gripelli noses: DJ say one
thought that was his Monet’s worth
Mon Dieu! How we slept…’
post abstract breakfast
microwave porridge explodes while washing goolies
well spotted leopard
bananas contribute hope shiny see your face in it
black square self portrait hob
grey bronchial oatsnot hails rubbery scullery gloop spluttery honey globules
scarce golden teardrops
blow crude raspberry fanfares
forget me not sings
dried up chicken thing menace to world in top oven
watersplash revivable
for much later on
after blueberry elevenses
Covetous:
It is my stingray!
The screams stopped all shopping in earshot.
Mine (assertive).
Mine (plaintive, filling up, wait for it)
…Mine (balling, stamping, screaming).
Uproar.
The law is present, masculine,
portentous and plump.
A strident protest, indeed.
Young fellow, m’lad!
Trespassers will be prosecuted
Whether they like it or not.
Have a pear drop.
Napalm funburst sunset, oilslick bitter tears
Give way to pork smells, rumbaba, cockatoos
Squawk, rustles of last gasp, reeling tigers,
plangent oozing, floating, clades and phylums
make touching, silken, floating islands.
everything comes to
those who can be bothered
to make the effort
crashed out on Jung’s Porch
gazing up at the upside down
welcome mat above the door
so you’ve got to think
upside down to make it out
Your visions will become clear
only when you can look
into your own heart.
Who looks outside, dreams;
who looks inside, awakes.
– Carl Jung
No matter when a god will come
When I take the air and roam
the tombstones and monuments
the iron door clicks ajar –
the cycle is complete.
Only now the air is sound
is it safe to do the rounds.
When I check the last twitch,
the most challenging flitch,
the one at the top
of the heap grips the grill.
A zither plays loud mad brash.
I pull my sword and euthanize him.
Then & only then the loading can commence…
Here comes the sun to have a laugh,
a snigger, a check it out, a gloat at
little lives playing themselves out in safe,
unhappy scripts:
polishing, dusting, painting crypts.
Rolling tiffs, thinking cliffs, wind blowing quiffs,
In skipper’s beards, fucking weird.
And I sit in judgement. How fucking weird is that?
Grey paint is my usual,
matted not glossed,
ruffled and talced
certainly not groomed
by Governess Pecheur.
Her mild odour
Cologne and cat nip
perverts my lust for
kedgeree and fauve cheeses
Grimbeau 