Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Poetry

Factory Records

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I

have neither direct pictorial

nor documentary evidence for it,

my first quarter on earth,

except

what those directly involved have told me,

confirmed by their satellites.

 

All a bit vague if you think about it

 

The first thought is adoption,

the second hospital error,

third,

unwanted from a relative or neighbour;

alien invasion,

Son of God,

& Timewarps

follow once you start.

(At least it was not Shandy Hall and its annoying horology).

 

I

did see my mum from time to time

in her incubated space.

She smiled from hollow cheeks

fought the maggots eating the belly wound

from where I had been sprung.

 

My dad was shy and did not get pushy

about seeing me till things calmed down a bit.

He did not pick me up and rock me till we got home:

After he did I never cried again, it is said.

 

Bear Dreams

buL9Ygv

 

Slumbered awhile,

Wee sunny spell,

Sleepy glimpse

 

Tucked up flurry

eider-down duvet,

Mink stole furor.

 

Purr as a bear purrs.

Growl meets rumble:

 

Grumbles

Rum Bellows

Pelaton!

A woman crossing a stile after the flooding in the Thames Valley, December 1915

 

Galactic dawn,

wet as water:

Ponds ’r’ Us!

Like a mucky duck

the weatherman

walks on warm, thin ice,

looking up anxiously

 

Sees

serene green scene

creams obscene

at tulips pouting,

kind epileptic fish,

sanguine potholed saucepans

latterday Saturday vertebrae.

Endless list: catalyst.

 

We swoon,

shrug it off,

embrace

&

turnover leaves

 

 

 

 

Truth

Head of

Head of

The essential difficulty with Mssr Grimbeau’s

pomes is  that they are crap & drivel

 

Clap-clap!

 

self-knowledge is

a wonderful thing.

A Bird: tender & anxious

 

you-small

 

Soft…

What light

Through yonder

Window breaks?

 

Ssssh!

 

Merely

A wayward

Cormorant

 

Called Deirdre

 

Or so I heard

 

 

 

Angleterre

 

unlikely-1

When I once sat upon a bench

I felt that I was almost French

Byrdsongs

Talk is Buses:

Pubic transport

Greenline fine?

Not grotesque

But Divine

 

Spudmark

Qualm

hatstan

Freaky vibes, cold, shivery.

On the brightest day it gets dark,

extreme breeds extreme,

bipolar is not an axis,

no high or low

like prices or buildings,

it is unproscribable.

There are no absolutes

Just givens.

Warmer now.

El Syd

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Mood Impetigo:

Rose petal

Spikenard.

 

Taking Town Drain

Clueless

Bubo Black

Tuba

 

 

Whimball Grooves

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Fresh, smooth,

honey enthrals me

floats me

casts me off .

 

Pork chops, bud planting  proposed:

hope springs eternal.

Farce of habit.

 

No scruples,

too forced lately,

going to work for its ownsake.

 

Leave it to settle, Mr Pushy-Git for

‘You cannot manage

what you cannot measure.’

Love?

10cc…comes in spurts.

Henless heads, dustbin laden.

Pot posits kettle:

‘You are black.’

Read and rest

after aftershocks.

Lux and lug.

Whimball grooves.