What would you do if
You could walk a country mile
In risible shoes ? freedom alone can turn worlds upside down
Tunnelling through rainbow’s end— gaping at St Finnian’s crock of shite—
pursuing nostalgic martyrdom—repulsive depressive disorder—
put me down: never let me go —
oppress me do oppressor
–
o pressure sore god help us —
unfamiliar faces scroll back the years of wine brown noses —
grant me discouragement now & at the hour of discharge—
Amen corner bed of stars —
commodores cry Zoot Alors!
—
feel the pulse of her indoors — fell when pulling on her drawers —
broke her head being a persistent nightmare —
swallow the yellow brick road —
wash it down with chainsaws —
something stirs down dingley dell
—
a sound of tyres screeching — insecticides in paradise —
quintessential now and then —
improves the yield vindictive seed —
the limpid massive grumbleweed —clogs up arteries
of artificial opiums
when did we stop to matter we did not stop to matter we never mattered at all penniless weavers stare blankly upon thread bare looms spinning gloomy yarns recollecting old wives tales through broken black teeth exchange wry sardonic smiles from far beyond a joke lame wit sidles past Buenaventura Durutti sports gaudy cheapo espadrilles twisted barbed wire & cold dark glasses
I do not fit in with anything today
just passing through with as little fuss,
the bare minimum. Today is not
a day dodging knives and barbs,
rolling under punches,
taking issue large and small,
crucial and otiose
No, today I shall be a rough sketch moving,
a fleshed out notion, a shadow of a familiar
I cannot be bothered to recall.
See, it works – I tried to recall.
It is good to talk when no one’s listening,
just pretending, no revealed or hidden agendas,
no issues to take account of. Hassle free.
post abstract breakfast
microwave porridge explodes while washing goolies
well spotted leopard
bananas contribute hope shiny see your face in it
black square self portrait hob
grey bronchial oatsnot hails rubbery scullery gloop spluttery honey globules
scarce golden teardrops
blow crude raspberry fanfares
forget me not sings
dried up chicken thing menace to world in top oven
watersplash revivable
for much later on
after blueberry elevenses
Covetous:
It is my stingray!
The screams stopped all shopping in earshot.
Mine (assertive).
Mine (plaintive, filling up, wait for it)
…Mine (balling, stamping, screaming).
Uproar.
The law is present, masculine,
portentous and plump.
A strident protest, indeed.
Young fellow, m’lad!
Trespassers will be prosecuted
Whether they like it or not.
Have a pear drop.
just as I stormed out
(stories of abrupt
departure & failed
reunion make up
this – my stock in trade)
all anguish became
fear & suspicion
(once again the guilt of the
victim who has always had
enough)
~
The only blood spilt
was as ever mine
yet I was in the wrong just as
ever I was before for as
long as I could remember
~
There were my motives
always questioned and
wistfully approved by those
who held the sway over things
at that particular time…
(to be continued…)
…floorsucker churns, provokes
gaspings and breathings
safe depthiness is spored
making me splutter
like a pudgy, tetchy baby.
This grief hugs me hollow.
fig lungs implode:
Lites
Bladderwrack
& oyster beards
strangle raddled eyes
Blasted by terror
we stare in mirrors
for escape not reflection.
Look there only when
lamp posts resemble fate.
Napalm funburst sunset, oilslick bitter tears
Give way to pork smells, rumbaba, cockatoos
Squawk, rustles of last gasp, reeling tigers,
plangent oozing, floating, clades and phylums
make touching, silken, floating islands.
everything comes to
those who can be bothered
to make the effort
crashed out on Jung’s Porch
gazing up at the upside down
welcome mat above the door
so you’ve got to think
upside down to make it out
Your visions will become clear
only when you can look
into your own heart.
Who looks outside, dreams;
who looks inside, awakes.
– Carl Jung
No matter when a god will come
Grimbeau 