Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Journal

In it to Bin it


In and out like a fiddler’s elbow
Clodhoppers kept on just in case
Susan Heyward smokes a Camel from Dana Andrews
in the days before Jimmy Dean
Short story by Salinger
in the days before Catcher
off with the NHS Clodhoppers
rest up the extremes before the change

A Tale of Two Drips
running down a window pane
How I lost a shirt

extraordinary ebullience breathing toxic air once in a blue moon
peeping down I out fertile earth as joyless mundanity

dearth penalty


Twas a sunny funferal,

down the municipal crem
weep your distance at all times
emasculate


time passes, state radio time, silver screen time, me tonto time, rockin horse time, inbetween days time, time after time out, timeless trips to slumber time, lifetimes and sometimes, time well wasted elsewhere, time spent less productively, no time beyond time itself, end of time, time immemorial, time out, time up, timed out…bit of a baked potato time, invisible wind blows, time pissed and time pewter…


Wasps nest in the brickwork housed behind the suspect sea of nettles
hides in lockdown under the auspices of thriving Jacoranda
The summer rains are set for the artificial test match
Time for old gits to argue over shit and twigs.
Prime Monster’s Hour Approaches
Peep spectres from the inside of a doughnut
insist on right on bluesky thinking over great balls afire–
straight thinking makes immediate connections


Darker evenings in the wet imitate November
if you’re lucky with the weather
play must be abandoned surely
Xavier has cried off poorly
Wasps multiply at leisure


Creepy crawly gas board
selling door to door
removed the offending tube of stuff
inpinging of my needle wound
two cheroots takes its toll
messing with my head


Spoonful, loving spoonful tells me
let the fresh air flow
anaesthetize the stingers
exposing jawbones of contention
piled up outside the door
ready for disposal by the authorities


Back we go to 2002
economically
in only three months
of inactivity.
ran fast to keep up


Found the wasp factory absorbed by Netflix
Weatherwise a goddam ugly gray
Practised the sober art of restraint
Giggling at Scarface
Sporting Clodhoppers on and off
Normal people just wear footwear
as they go about their day
I am unreliably informed
by the Soggy Bottom Boys
Brian de Palma and the Coen Bros
don’t turn up your nose at those
guys who know their business
Two hours pass unstably after the cheroot
Naggingly concerned at making no effort
to fill the world with more of vogon woe
David Mitchell irked me talking up
all lived through experience like grist
to the mill of the creative artist. He was
punting his latest title about rock musicians
with a catchy title that i have spilt at long off
Too wrapped up in disgust and despair. First
Brexit then Boris and now the plague and
a gammy leg. Must try to get out for a nose
about. Take a spin one evening for a run
in the country. Get away from the wasps and
nettles; the ghosts and kettles; the pavlovian life
of the house trained nutter. A return to the world
is a widespread problem nowadays. Not the exclusive
domain of the broken and wounded. The underclass
is swelling. This next wave is a wipe out.
Ovid relished a catastrophe
with a capital sea
Bollocks freezing off
sat up asleep guarding a marina adrift on regurgitated martini
spreading out between an outstretched quay of denim legs
a little bite on the inner forearm
a smell of bacon frazzling in a slipper
historical glimpses into the now
impersonal recollections concerning
the economics of cooking cheese on crackers
little grievances and niggles reveal
what a drag we are become so


The biobubble Test match bugler takes a break
from barmy army duty
to tame once wild undergrowth
to read the newspaper online
between heavenly grey spasms
splash on empty seats


when the ill winds drop, sun breaks through the umpteenth time, the Windies build up a healthy lead. Considerable if still there at stumps
The soundtrack of summer
minus the old ones in the long room

Green tea and a change of strides to tasteful deckchair stripey; the makings of a supper; bake off half-baked sticks; chop some jungle tom-toms;
tins of odds and sods;
packet of ham in date;
ready salted crisps; or nothing till morn

Clear blue still summer morn; bread and butter night of many weewees;
an early morning vaper catches the dump train before a feed of comely opiates;
turned off the Sat Morn Media News and Ents for the entitled;
sun streams in unhampered by nettlebed and wasp factor;
entertain the needy when the tasks are done and the post is passed; nosey passives fo feed elsewhere; in it to bin it…

Snagg & Pickles

Summer in One Room

What gives with the sea of nettles growing up the windows? Loudly came no stern riposte.

You tell me what you often eat and I will tell you what you often are. Indeed. A bacon and egg primate, a rich tea biscuit and two squares of comely chocolate.

Unveiled a fiend incarnate; soused in pink paraffin; creaking in forked tongues; fire flamed by glow worm; intent on rapture capture; sound balloonist waves; little dots keen on plunder; scared by squads of silverfish; delicate little flower; powered solely by cheesecloth; thrilled by sturdy necklocks;

Sore toes destroy jjuicy insouciance like rabid tigers gnawing on a pariah; all hell broke loose in Hades while we simpered in the abbey ruins prisoner baiting and people hating

Pure as the driven crow determined to improve on jet glossed plumage

For fire burns in this hearth since the old king shuffled off

Ivory shoulder: dead giveaway; elephant man

Consider the indifference of existence with a passion over easy

Reap harm and carry on

Your only as good as your last treble Lutz

Night fell like a modest incline

She walks in beauty Tuesdays, Thursdays, and, if its nice out, Saturday afternoons.

Today it will be thirty degrees centigrade and I have blisters fit to burst already my life

Winceyette pyjamas it sure am not…

Herd

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Drab plague day grows sunny round three,
wound change ritual proves to be a long drawn out affair
similar to the endless round of faceless medics and their myrmidons
that brandish big syringes for effect...
AJP Taylor talks Hitler porn in a a lopsided spotted bow tie and parades an encyclopedic grasp of his brief
Perhaps a history course to while away the downtime?
The Origin of the Specious
Perry Coma seen thru a losers eyes
peddling jalop without the oligarch's nod
holding bizarre opinions of the truth
honour bound to bear sombre witnesss
to the heavy tread of a discerning public
who favour coke to sepsis...

Sprogulike

3430

 

Aunty Mare and sombre Sky observe
the proprieties at all times
Beyond the me the other hard to pick out
through the wrong end of a spyglass darkly
Ye Gobs! When frisbees roamed the earth
and all the bus tops green canopy
Millicent and Marty sought cover
from true blue meanies
Conceived after bathing at Baxters
glaze your arses and shield you gonads
to bless the pointless little head of Sprog
of Sprog Coriolanuswnd wash him well

Captain Tom Pulls it Off!

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As Fizz bomb # 3 looms  big watch sunset smites dystopian manifesto probe;

clear sky thinking slowly sinking proffers us a frosty night; more beds than meds and
staff upset; liberty ships come at what cost?

Eye for the main chance that one; gets the job done mind you. Never hook a flounder after midnight or overlook a gift horse in your face; two fingers offer up a blind spot afore you go.

No look before leap opt out elsewise; refuse or nimbly fencesit riding shotgun for the pigs
Unprepossessed of full fat free range facts and fingers; thus impeded by a bunch of fives till dukes issue a halt to hilarity;
the wicker vicar throws a tantrum in a crowded one stop shop; why just stand giving out incendiary bon mots; head balled is no surprise;

An abbreviated nap follows rural retreat;
wait and see now ennit. Ennit never comes clean. To pull the other one: an invite to allcomers. RSVP. OUI. Four ponds and eighty two stents and cheap at half the price.
Stagnant wet fish market. Sinister Culverts? You bet your ass on that Nelly.

A Room with a View (I see no ships)

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Life you see is a drop in for drop outs
pop-ups, internees, refugees amputees
cut off from the main…
the quality of ennui
falleth like manna from heaven
a silhouette of a thrush
fixated on some shiny distant thing
captivates my idle gaze
exalts it to significance
prompts forgetfulness
for a rare exotic moment
in suburbia

Wall St Imbiss

Grimbeau

madder_overview

Watched the Stasi throw
a number of people
in the sea green trabant van
while we discussed the events of 89
them call our outfit ‘Tinkletoes’ and share
unbounded optimism
for no apparent reason
with suspect passing strangers

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Sunny Day…(Who do i write for? Why…for You)

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Smoke

Went up

—new PopE

The Party for Moderate Progress Without the Bounds of the Law

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You remember Gonks: foam stuffed cabbage patch dolls born of an oil crisis; Mister Mennish in a way; eminently home-makeable – scissors, clear glue, felts of varied hues & farbs – you got your Gonk! Mine was called Paulus,

after a little gnome who welcomed

all and sundry

to his home.

 

My Personal Paulus disintegrated

after a vigorous thrashing

in our twin tub.

It always had

a masochistic streak…

Buggering Bizet

 

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Windows  windows,

looking inward looking out,

they do not do up and down no more

Could if they had necks,

or long hands and periscopes.

If they were so fortunate,

and with the CCTV linked to the telly

 

But,

that is not the same as a neck of your own to play with…

Inner scented oriental mood,
smartly shoed,
sucking on a Zube,
watching chicks insinuate.
It is now.
Can you imagine
how good that is?
Go on
Then!
~
You are smoking
Casually
Smoking?
On a street corner in the fifties.
You are wearing a hat.
It is a busy street.
High rise buildings.
People. A city. Night. Warm. Promising.
Am I right?
~
Fancy an omelet
I do.
Fresh green salad.
Sounds good.
Let’s go.
what the heck let’s go again at the witterings good work out for the digiits if nothing else.
Cut those nails, Howard Hughes. I implore you. Simply.
we got two zero one nine big time fult tilt bullshit flying oppressive radio waves goodbye to reason
is Prokofiev taking the piss saying look ma no hands to the conservatory
burning leaves with his true love
bitter sweet body of work to discomfort you in you dotage

 

 

 

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