Father lampshade,
Mother rug,
go gliding upstairs
through dreek formless fug,
real time is taking shape.
~
Thus can Moby Grapeseed dwell
in grotty motley,
spangled alcazar;
nasalizing hypnotic
verse into a well-travelled
voice recorder on the jakes
for acoustic, hygienic
and ambient purposes.
~
Here he will be found by a
stranger with an
axe and smartphone,
who will flush out thoroughly,
do his duty and wash his hands
…sailing littoral lagoons
isthmus archipelagos
seasides of tranquility
peace pours soft kisses on
atlantics city shapes
slowly watching conveyors
silhouetted by the moon
Under tree mad vistas
Wind ruffled brutal sages
Earthquake shuffled riders
Canopies crow shadows show
Scooped Caligari canyons
We shake and thrill as grinning
Scrofula eats violets like puma
Mid-seventies pro
situ critiques of critiquers
half-torn narky junky rags
heaps and hefts of twaddle
drafting epic wotsits
arcane metabollox
sure to knock Ulysses
into a cocked hat
(hanging on the wall)
unfinished ineffable
absurdist dramaturgy
mad philosophers
with haunting names like
Coathanger & Toothbrush
Wires, cassettes, paperclips
And two holy matching socks
Comes a stridency
Maple red blue Marigold?
Andy Pandemonium
Cokeface John de Lorean?
Sweet half-shut portal wizards
Punic rubric shapeshifter
Walking on thin lice
~
Shirty as a dirty spaceship
Compromising time
The rights and wrongs door-slam
Undermine indifference
Blue disregarded others snigger
Wait on noonday
Open the wine cap
let it breathe in escape
emancipation
~
I think I am tired I think
hatch doors slam loud shut
Documentary reruns play
haphazardly remembered
& easily forgotten
~
Sporting broken dried out skin
bulbous burning failing eyes
Red wine marinated
Blood stained glassy vacant stare
Sits the sentinel unaware
*
Lily droops waterlogged
forlorn pale exposed dripping
trumpet wilts beyond
immediate salvation
relentless merciless torrents
melt short lived Lily
Mellow yellow peril stalks
desultory morning news.
Mahjong pings pong song sushi
Life waves buoyed by risen seas
Encouraging numbers lately
make me swing again.
All you need is Like.
Push and punch the River Not.
See no day so far
underway.
Meredithian
sonnets pepper mad Edith’s
black gothic bonnets.
Radio switches off itself.
Precocious little sod.
Go show it who’s the boss, Rod.
Long dark evenings
my boiled beetroot pinkens
hair loss in Gaza
Sick slick pompous circumstance
Antiquated cow-towing
Red carpet sycophants
Perfidy game of the day
Selected edited highlights
Where have all the steelworks gone?
Grimbeau 