Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Poetry

Out through the Inn Door

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leaving europa today, anchors away,
england casts off from the maine
airing fresh washed wound,
pepping up itself with pillage,
count your blessings bumbling one,
get out in the sensual sun,
live a lottle, throttle payment
when its overdue, polite withdraw at
your leisure centre…

deadlines splutter past like merlins
vernal fire and city pigeons blown off course
bewildered silos rummage
black crows sidle up bare oak boughs
sprites dash past behind and above
lacerate elastic space
one shot deadeye eyes up the killer
through the hedgerow kindling
insisting open wounds heal
at will in twinkling crystals

silver, gold, sapphire diamonds dissemble
coyly wink back from wet green glades
knotweed cushions footfall quash
springs back slowly to attention
jewels in the sun pellurid
Vidor indoors on the box
all star cast of duds & idols
famous for refusing seconds
big old rotten tomato
featuring Lilian Gish
in the costume of a quiche

pontefract cake

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Yesterday’s salad defrosts on the southfacing sidewalk,
four day old stilton cheesecake, half baked tatty cadaver guava gut, fried lightly in oil,
done to a turn, one of the fried eggs got off less lightly, slightly burnt underneath.

If you’re drifting on an empty ocean get jumpy…
mememememememe
Chucking stuff all over the place, scatterbrained
Against all odds Balach Lava Banana pulls one off’
–a coup d’etat, ca va!

Viva Chapati!
On themselves they brought it, plague
espedrilled chameleons
Raven haired chimeraphiles
Slumming it on the Mile End Rd
Vague as aesthetics
‘Do you knit your own flatbread, Senora?’
‘Are you havin a laugh, Duck?’
Her hair was made of liquorice
Topped off with a Pontefract Cake

licking stones

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bleak mid lent
all hope spent
firmament
ice blue
krill’s eye view
downstairs loo
stuck eschewing superglue

latchkey

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empty document
left idling on an open file
what was in that mind

tundra

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head fizzes fierce barking
who sprinkled space dust over
dubious dentures

if the hat fits (restrain it)

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Nothing is sacred
Stone still sat stupid
Unspeakable
Red hat looks ugly on
Nicer in the shop

woodsmoke in your hair

Adpool

 

i cover the alphabet the long way round
Italy sells its seaports to China
notions of must do’s occur to me
in the National Portrait Gallery
kind of feeling
smug all over
stomp stomp stomp
glad all over
Spring! Spring!! Spring!!!
Trump you fucker jump
Jump into this here blanket
The we’re holding down below
He jumped
Hit the deck
Broke his fucking neck
There was no blanket
Laughed?!
We almost shat
We have not laughed so much since Auntie Beeb
Caught her left tit in the mangle
We are evil fuckers
Miserable Sinners
Dirty Fuckers
Arseholes
The dogwatch thence departed
(last observed said beast sniffing dewy tuffets,
pissing on low hanging catkins,
and trotting down the path easy wagging)
People who smoke too much smoke get smokey

Twilight of the Elites

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Scrapbook scrapbook
On the wall
Roofless
House in
donegal

 

Twenty days into March
And Guess what
got an equine ox
Half horse: half brisket
Ride it milk it
Horsey cow
Snooty bitch
Whip it! Whip it!
Down on Oddity Farm
We are devo
D E V O

Hangry Saddos Sing This Song…

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so
we ate the agenda,
watched our hirelings make smoke,
found time to sit back                                                                                                                                                                  mindful full of dread
of the hectic times ahead:
‘Love is like a bird on the ocean…’
remarked the thin lipped minion
without portfolio as the

light broke overhead

Peep-Oh

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Six remains in light still      just
strong enough
to type by
Found a place to

                                           be