Forked the lawn today
Half-hearted fat man in straw hat
Alas poor Yorick
~
Always take the stairs upstairs
Even in stilettos
North face of the Eiger down
~
Ten twenty thirty
Forty fifty…soon adds up
Awesome hill of beans
~
Ten thousand spoonfuls
Fifty-seven varieties
Molehills breed mountains
Early come-ins &
go-ins at no.13
galvanizesrubberneckers
in da nay bore hood
sumer is a goin’ out
exit the cuckold
Trad.
There drifts another dreamer,soft headed ne’er-do-well
Sitting close to Budhha, pussy’s fond farewell…
wrung out the bowels from an old dishrag: there’s a riot going on down in slough-
who needs yesterday’s diapers?
nobodaddy in da world inflammation strangles up my mind: diet exercises customs proffer cure for life again big pharma
aphrodite looking flighty in her nightie induces instant korma: suture strangles up my mind your step on the way out
dere moving the shard for corporate malice: mr magoo went down on malice & is now detained at monstrosity’s leisure
A polar indifference
To current affairs pervades
This sunny afternoon
Opposites repel invaders
Gadflies waddle through cold custard
Jam dollops smear gleeful
scarlet faced bruised egos
enlighten dictatorships
‘tis an outside day today – green bin
Could bring the ‘contraption’ with
before or after
sausage extravaganza?
There’s a conundrum
Or a paradigm shifting
furniture about again
Bloody paraphernalia
Always in the way of stuff
Mull it over with the Bruce
Went out for a wee-one
Beside the haemorrhage spot
Minus ‘contraption’
Chinooks flying low
Shocking pinko crop-duster
Airborne muckspreader
Spots on our apples
Surprise visitor!
Ginger Rogers fresh from heaven
knock me down with a feather boa
give us a twirl then luv
‘aren’t you going to ask me?’, she said
Ask you what I close upped
Strong silent typography
‘How does it feels to be dead?’
She thinks I’m Peter Fonda
Poor love goddess,
They all go a bit
Sunset Boulevard
I give her my father’s best side
And flash the trademark
well-upholstered teeth
she smiled knowingly
We parted on the best of terms
It had not always
been like that…in fact never
quite like this before
Rolling around weighing up the options for the next phase?
Life is what happens when you are making other plans
So you like pith then
Are you buying or selling?
online depersonalization bureaucracy rears its ugly head
academic qualification or hiding behind mummy’s skirts throwing stones from the long grass?
Be brutally honest. Crap at deadlines and references, useless file organizer, prone to rage and self-destructive fugues.
Would Tai chi & yoga not be better for you?
Are you a glutton for punishment, trial by ordeal, the futile fight unto the death of all hope.
Yes, most of the time
A glutton for punishment then?
A glutton full stop.
Do not publish this even when the urge to fill the void is huge
Anything to avoid a haircut and a shower
Have another cigarette…
I shouldn’t really
Why do anything anyway?
Your crap at life let’s face it.
Suppose so…
It’s all on the internet anyway if you really want or need to know
True
Better to get out more, meet new people to glower at
Yea, Glower Power—sounds catchy
Mediocrity
stated long term vow
Snapshot: lifetime selfie
Faces gurn: It’s moi!
madding crowds turn volte face
outstanding dream sequences
unnatural beauty looks
down on friends & family
stoical indifference gloats
Moses, Moses, holy Moses!
A turn up for the books.
Four quick glances
an element of surprise.
An intriguing risk demonised.
I think of you all the time, she said.
Puking in her handbag.
That’s some love poem
~
My eyes are clouded over with self-deceit,
these words are redolent of feet
that walked proud as punch,
no more for now,
no more,
the crunch
Perhaps the radio can see
who the ocean has reclaimed
this gusty Sunday
Less a numbers game
than prurient derision
Smug as a bug on a drug
Neon hordes festoon seasides
Find macabre pokemon
Washed up after sated fish
Gold, silver and bronzed
Load up on food for thought
Leftovers after feeding frenzies
Fake it as it comes
Feel no love for humankind
Only mild revulsion
Jockeying for possession
Give me a groat and I’ll emote on hope and faith, and craic
Should you not meet me on the way, you can on the way back
From hollow land and silly land, to form and sound, and black
The song you hear will be our own and never will shirk or jack
Too good to be true, too simple to work, you say inside your head
That tapping on the roof you hear, is rhapsody robbing the lead.
Grimbeau 