Burin
Jejune
plastic paddy
once bumptious happy
sat out night’s
confinement considering a
crap consignment.
The can is
a frying pan:
A con sang;
‘Guinevere’
Sad that…
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Journal
July 5, 2013
Bends
Carp descends
Sleep pretends
Lark ascends
Gets bends
Bubbly blood
De-compression
Time – Chime – Bell – Swell – Well…
Bob’s Up!
Whiffs what?
Aroma of Verona
Yes
Lisa & Pizza.
July 5, 2013
Piershow
comfy?
Lundy bloody Lundy!
porphyry purple
leopard:
gatefold freezing
under dowdy woolly blazer
bracing beside steadfast seaside
hardy Skegness donkey
July 5, 2013
some lines on a summer’s night
Soft verse for the rolling on day
rich corpulent berries:
shiny cherries make windows for
the platinum moon
and smooth lies curse yesterday’s
setting sun.
July 3, 2013
Send in the Drones
Wasn’t that sick?
Are you aware?
Me lying dead on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the drones.
Didn’t it miss?
How can they prove?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move.
Where are the drones?
Send in the drones.
Just when I’d stopped opening wars,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my nonchalant air,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don’t you love force?
My call I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the drones?
Quick, send in the drones.
Don’t bother, they’re here
Isn’t it sick?
Isn’t it clear,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the drones?
There ought to be drones.
Let’s get out of here.
Related articles
- US drone strike in Pakistan kills 18 (thenewstribe.com)
June 23, 2013
Pardon
‘What do you do when the muse shows up?
‘Hide the biscuits’
‘Huh’
‘Oh yes… stands to reason five months on the frozen tundra, hunters after ones antlers’
‘Syringe your ears’
‘Not yet’
‘What?’
‘You said Ginger nears’
June 21, 2013
rain stops play
Pinball and Dickens, it will rain soon: the window will be shut.
Our hero is unwashable.
His father done bad investments.
Cold uncle with the sneery clerk do not help.
What is worse is that is he must go
faraway from this familiar terror
work for Squeers and dwell in his world.
Back in London the dirty oiks cheered him
on his way and gave him a letter.
he did not read it, forgot it.
We worry about him.
He drops the letter, retrieves it from the carriage floor
and reads:
‘…you can come at night. My spilling has gone with my wallies. Pops.’
June 20, 2013
Humpfrey
Bogart rides dumb waiter to Casablanca.
Greenstreet in fez and white suite whips flies dead.
We whisper secrets in the Fool & Bladder
The spies, Leech & Lamprey, eavesdrop us.
Landlord Russ Catt, Suffolk stone-licking champeen,
claims Henry the First once choked on this spot
in fourteen-fifty-three. Throbbing bulbous
bloodshot eyes are persuasive. Once he licked one
thousand stones in just one hour. Languid lipped,
pueumatic limbed, a gurgle ball of gungey
frogspawn in his throat. We departed when we
had heard him out feeling modestly pissed.
June 20, 2013
Juneday Twenty: Gloam
A slow heavy fast night of clammy claw
CS Lewis wakes up the coffee hour
Good banks for the rich: bad banks for the poor.
Loose head props a sea of waxy flowers
Lolling on the blue, crucible altar;
Swimming the foamback Bosphorous caprice
Carpetted riviera road floor.
Catch the earlybird bullet to Nice!
Consideration: transportation is
Unavailable at this holy hour
Also calculate the lonely crowds of rose
That spend so much time wallflowering
Patiently awaiting a tender pruning.
June 19, 2013
Phew-a-Brew Time
Nine and a bit of fun boy three and weak sun;
cold fingers tingle
so…
perhaps downunder for a warm and a brew.
Up since five: must stay warm. Limp lions cut no
mustard & cress
Grimbeau 