Big Moustache
…go learn the tricks
of the trade
of the game
then do:
Great advice
Is bound to
Disappoint like
Lurvisshness
&…
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…go learn the tricks
of the trade
of the game
then do:
Great advice
Is bound to
Disappoint like
Lurvisshness
&…
…why this concrete cross,
built on slabs set
porous and glass spectacle,
office blocks called
mum and dad and me?
Go on contact me,
tell me,
no chant or discipline
provides answers.
It is mad to ask,
says my inner voice
as I slash off my
compulsions in these words.
These ships of fools
that rundown europe
are neither good nor bad.
These are freaky things!
the more you care the more you oppress:
Excavation demands truth.
…nearly slaughtered up,
like the living dead,
blue as veins varicose,
at the piano playing
lullabies for the dammed,
I see myself and my
wild yappings crinkling
the dermis of jack shit,
like a microscopic boyle.
Outside the sun gets fresh
and daisies get bold but gleeful
Them putative naybores
after a legtime of
milly-tory surface
barbecue specious
offersome babies
this someday luncheon.
*
In plot three
frazzled shins get licked dry.
No colours available
but green and greener green,
beige fag filters and alluring dust.
*
Down the lane
A plane crashes
The day has won
another sound victory
for c’mon scents
He threw the telly out the window.
No glass broke.
It was a silent defenestration
The volume was muted.
The dog ran out for a keek,
to see if there was anything
behind the adverts
and returned unsated
with some gaudy wires
tangled up in his copious locks.
One day,
that day,
the octagonal day,
all that weather
stopped its carry on
and
we all breathed
a great sigh of relief
and
chuckled at the oddness of it.
Great Scot exclaimed
gadzooks those seedy geese
gurgled sheepishly.
In a thumbflick
Is the world unfurled
Mine are clumsy unused
Maladapted digits
Insignificant swollen
Leprous pointless digits
One may conclude there’s no point
In this activity
One may so conclude
Mist,
fulsome glaucoma moon,
Sat
low above charcoal frieze.
Mauve
sky on a cryptic pole
Once
barked by you and me
Dancing
Soft wild
Arms
Supple
Flustered
Pauses
Asks:
‘Why must I
always
scintillate?’
Just
Tell it:
‘Do what’s best’
Coffee rashers scraps
skidmark sunshine larks startle
descending Fuji
seasickness overwhelmed me
entered Turin shrouded grey
pollution made me husky
Yeti uttered clumsily
‘Attitude sickness, Nietzsche?’
*
I smiled like a mad trappist
Remembering who I was
*
Mass aerologic
Agent puella beehive
Kind as lost kind sculptures
Waving sad eyed drooped
Medicated breasts point
Easy on the shore: tortured
As an impossible embrace
Your face is what it is.
Grimbeau 