Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Poetry

Life’s Brittle (Ups & Downs)

June was a killer
already my life was
hanging by a thread
then the rains came
dissolving broken skin
blistering and swelling
infecting each nook and cranny
each crook and nanny
irresistible bon mots
run in the blood

Snagg & Pickles

Summer in One Room

What gives with the sea of nettles growing up the windows? Loudly came no stern riposte.

You tell me what you often eat and I will tell you what you often are. Indeed. A bacon and egg primate, a rich tea biscuit and two squares of comely chocolate.

Unveiled a fiend incarnate; soused in pink paraffin; creaking in forked tongues; fire flamed by glow worm; intent on rapture capture; sound balloonist waves; little dots keen on plunder; scared by squads of silverfish; delicate little flower; powered solely by cheesecloth; thrilled by sturdy necklocks;

Sore toes destroy jjuicy insouciance like rabid tigers gnawing on a pariah; all hell broke loose in Hades while we simpered in the abbey ruins prisoner baiting and people hating

Pure as the driven crow determined to improve on jet glossed plumage

For fire burns in this hearth since the old king shuffled off

Ivory shoulder: dead giveaway; elephant man

Consider the indifference of existence with a passion over easy

Reap harm and carry on

Your only as good as your last treble Lutz

Night fell like a modest incline

She walks in beauty Tuesdays, Thursdays, and, if its nice out, Saturday afternoons.

Today it will be thirty degrees centigrade and I have blisters fit to burst already my life

Winceyette pyjamas it sure am not…

Suspect Aspidistra (the full nine minutes…)

Tintin Quarantino quit the bowers for higher ground when the flowers of romance exploded into a festival of the oppressed

Seeds of fear aroused by MRI scans. Blood test in Basingstoke was for renal function, Speak to your GP for laughs.

Made it through the night again. Shall we meet outside Café de La Mairie or behind the tin roof bike shed. Declasse fields grow strange fruit.

Memories are short like fat hairy legs in socks and sandals queuing up for a berth on a Ghost Ship

Sun comes round to warm the lawn— so soon it must be noon,

In the meantime eat last night’s savoury titbits on a rugged slice of white cob..,fuel to feed the fire.

Call up medics under grey skies– Carpe Diem and all that jazz. Café au Lait, Monsieur?

A Garcon enquires from a safe distance. Tintin nods assent, and leaning back blows a bubble of pink chewing gum.

Shimmering figures of giggling mannequins pass in designer shades.

Scamper down boulevard of rancid dreams in a toadstool kerchief,

Obliterate a canopy of fetid screeds singing a shallow blues,

Well if it aint that funny little cough again, a prelude to a sombre snooze?

Soft and silly sacerdotage mumbles contain obscenities from the beneath a suspect aspidistra

Herd

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Drab plague day grows sunny round three,
wound change ritual proves to be a long drawn out affair
similar to the endless round of faceless medics and their myrmidons
that brandish big syringes for effect...
AJP Taylor talks Hitler porn in a a lopsided spotted bow tie and parades an encyclopedic grasp of his brief
Perhaps a history course to while away the downtime?
The Origin of the Specious
Perry Coma seen thru a losers eyes
peddling jalop without the oligarch's nod
holding bizarre opinions of the truth
honour bound to bear sombre witnesss
to the heavy tread of a discerning public
who favour coke to sepsis...

Surrealistic Billow

Miles of Smiles

Grimbeau

panestring

On a happy note

Crazy Theolonius

Blue September Hills

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Confessions of a Handyman

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Just seems shameful like
I tried and fooled about with art
for the best part of a golden era
& give or take a mock heroic epic or two
but as the epoch crumbled
I took fright, stepped back &
stole away in search of anonymity

How I nimbly skipped on past tackles
sidestepping young bucks trip wires

and scented mantraps
playing the tough guy with no future
dismissive of  the tedious now

time spent wild carding subdued by booze
short changing a second hand self

umbrella firms of ill wind repute
tried to memorize each one in order
before sidling up for the holy drop for elevenses
But I stopped it and plunged head last
into a teeming bramble wilderness,
inhabited by malicious stingers
vindictive vicious barbs.
Cold vaincautious glances exchanged
when eye contact was declined

went walkabout in phantom seas
fad spiralling stoned dizzy alice selfies
smugly looking down on
while smiley vultures congregate below
soon to part at the pace of Ra
before I again plummet
bumping into roaming spheres
the forgotten fear of falling
came back with a vengeance

pulling out now is no easy ride
boiling hot flesh pies mel
under withered skin
long lost conchshells
appear round the bend
rockaby baby spotted snugly safe
under silky green lush green canapace

For It had beeen slow to warm of late
outswung hanging at the end of a rope
ghoulish freeze framed close up grimace
accompanies a bleary blank stare
passing blurred spectators showing off
discounted marbles queegly in a flurry
of majestic kilts spun while spooning
honeys most generous on steaming farls,

*
So fell I into nanocoma and emerged from it a lost cinque port
Kent became my oyster. It could have been all the world to me…

*
In the beginning was the end and that is the long and the short of it.
One finds out sooner or later Walking on mirrors is not all its crack’d up to be
Call me Omeletto: Anything but Egg ; Housebreaker Bong-Daly
toed the party line without spoiling her nail varnish. Like Beryl Reid
said, it was all about the shoes, which in her nasal snob spoof voice
came over as ‘Shooze’. Why bitch? We’re all just as bad as one another.
Everyone dies ugly.

The swings and roundaboutsm, the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the snakey ladders parading past in viscous toffee cream nylons, recall that wretched sound of a rasping fingernail on plywood. Feverish and seeing things, brain baked dry by sandfly fires.
What happpens net if i drink that orange squash i puked back up in the tumber?
Could have guessed I suppose. Be grown up grab the first thing that comes to hand and cover it up. A precocious uptaker of bad examples, trialing and erring on good for sport.
Embedded dried pea up the nose;
head lost in the clouds; flying twice nightly lightly

All left up in the air, keep the company of freebirds and faulty
military hardware, fearful of flying saucers egged on by cups and spoons…

State of the Union: Distressed

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we all feel down in bad weather
stuck indoors counting blessings
declavring war on last nights washing up
weighing up plusses and minuses
of invisibility and amnesia

bad servant memory skives off
feast days and bank holidays
taking bloody liberties
with the milk of mutant kindness
constrained by clamour
in the pantry garden

the camera never cries
the piecrust never seeped
gravy when you blew it
encouraging the meatball
to make a run for it

The Meagre Benison of Tired Starlings

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May rains hail and thunder
all-in-one morning tucked up
Sophia fetches balm for the bundle
Observing unusual proprieties
following hors d’oeuvres
keep the kettle boiling
the nettle coiling
the aspidistra flying
keep the company of doves
brawling in the fountain
over scarce fuck all
intended for the starlings…

Sprogulike

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Aunty Mare and sombre Sky observe
the proprieties at all times
Beyond the me the other hard to pick out
through the wrong end of a spyglass darkly
Ye Gobs! When frisbees roamed the earth
and all the bus tops green canopy
Millicent and Marty sought cover
from true blue meanies
Conceived after bathing at Baxters
glaze your arses and shield you gonads
to bless the pointless little head of Sprog
of Sprog Coriolanuswnd wash him well

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