Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Postcards from Today

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…

Confessions of a Handyman

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Just seems shameful like
I tried and fooled about with art
for the best part of a golden era
& give or take a mock heroic epic or two
but as the epoch crumbled
I took fright, stepped back &
stole away in search of anonymity

How I nimbly skipped on past tackles
sidestepping young bucks trip wires

and scented mantraps
playing the tough guy with no future
dismissive of  the tedious now

time spent wild carding subdued by booze
short changing a second hand self

umbrella firms of ill wind repute
tried to memorize each one in order
before sidling up for the holy drop for elevenses
But I stopped it and plunged head last
into a teeming bramble wilderness,
inhabited by malicious stingers
vindictive vicious barbs.
Cold vaincautious glances exchanged
when eye contact was declined

went walkabout in phantom seas
fad spiralling stoned dizzy alice selfies
smugly looking down on
while smiley vultures congregate below
soon to part at the pace of Ra
before I again plummet
bumping into roaming spheres
the forgotten fear of falling
came back with a vengeance

pulling out now is no easy ride
boiling hot flesh pies mel
under withered skin
long lost conchshells
appear round the bend
rockaby baby spotted snugly safe
under silky green lush green canapace

For It had beeen slow to warm of late
outswung hanging at the end of a rope
ghoulish freeze framed close up grimace
accompanies a bleary blank stare
passing blurred spectators showing off
discounted marbles queegly in a flurry
of majestic kilts spun while spooning
honeys most generous on steaming farls,

*
So fell I into nanocoma and emerged from it a lost cinque port
Kent became my oyster. It could have been all the world to me…

*
In the beginning was the end and that is the long and the short of it.
One finds out sooner or later Walking on mirrors is not all its crack’d up to be
Call me Omeletto: Anything but Egg ; Housebreaker Bong-Daly
toed the party line without spoiling her nail varnish. Like Beryl Reid
said, it was all about the shoes, which in her nasal snob spoof voice
came over as ‘Shooze’. Why bitch? We’re all just as bad as one another.
Everyone dies ugly.

The swings and roundaboutsm, the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the snakey ladders parading past in viscous toffee cream nylons, recall that wretched sound of a rasping fingernail on plywood. Feverish and seeing things, brain baked dry by sandfly fires.
What happpens net if i drink that orange squash i puked back up in the tumber?
Could have guessed I suppose. Be grown up grab the first thing that comes to hand and cover it up. A precocious uptaker of bad examples, trialing and erring on good for sport.
Embedded dried pea up the nose;
head lost in the clouds; flying twice nightly lightly

All left up in the air, keep the company of freebirds and faulty
military hardware, fearful of flying saucers egged on by cups and spoons…

Insurrection Blues (Guess we have no Therl Baps Monsieur)

 

jaw jut

…the third day was by far the worst
our enemy the clement weather

as ever
said weather soon aligned itself to passive lamentation
and gentled us with suspect serenades

An inaudible gasp oft precedes the sacrificial therl baps
wherein a sharp intake of breath soon follows
Just try to imagine the look on his face
at the shock that overcame her self
when with numbers crunched up the gravel stairwell
and found us broken up like aggregate

Very like a legion jackboots stamping down hard on innocent faces worldwidely…

 

 

 

 

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.

Might is Trite

Visog

 

Coriolanus rampages throughout, leaving sawbonnne doctors
signed off sick, self medicating on left hand dog legs, shy and retirig,
retiring that is to pick discretely on spicy edibles and creosote
platelet dainties.
Let nature to its own devices carving fresh streams
through obsolescent new builds grown
measly cold on indifference.

Inner sanctified mood, a place where hubris wallows;
note those whose learned eyes speak of it in copious macabre volumes;
‘Cumin 61, your time is up’ reads the lesson;
not on this atomic watch, thought our Henry
counting unhatched reptiles down in the potting shed.
When Alice said and did the vault
we lived like gods; we ate like goldfish; we shat like lords;
at leisure we perfected
the makeshift trappings of a gobsheen,
chose worrying working titles that stuck defiantly
as stray dags to woolly umpers.
Meantime upstairs the Roofer
glued and riveted, exchanged laddish manecdotes,
it seems a revolutionary cream is made
available down the local dragstore

Todd Sloane

dfysg

 

 

End of day
at close of play
staying put
for night cap
to help
send me to a sleeping more sublime
I fell into a fever and thought myself a flea
transmitter in the lapel
of a diseased bailiff
transmitting gruff sweet nothing
about property and theft

Madagaskar

turner_yellow

 

Paused to watch in awe
as porksausage is slowly herded into
a red hot oven.
Ponderous rise to thirteen hundred handclaps;
read back through unfinished work–capable, superficial, slapdash
mild mannered…
up yours to writing courses.
Sausage time after chess defeat debacle.
Still life goes on in a glass bunion reading mad sestinas
loose limbed shambling to a close

Mist not clearing, rigid grey stays
As weary corseteers drink creamy
Chicken cuppa soups
& tongue inscrutable croutons

Corrugated tin roof soundbite din

Wet cats weeping sombre buckets
Waiting for morsels
Or dead fledglings
Lost drowned commencing maiden flight.

A quick gasper, juicy  goss and prattle
then back to graffiti whalebones
Curse those deft big hollow needles
The sky went orange: locusts

Fertile Ground

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Nine days into the new year spring struck the dozy Cut at ten fifty nine on the strawberry nosegay, essential oil spillage romping in abject hayloft recalled Petula and dripping rain down on this jawful of toxic fodder, still beggars can’t be choosers, so they say, but more of that anon
O! mute contorted spring  that of witch from yuledream breaks still antiseptic and vindictive in its luscous bite and repressive in its grandiose vision, all this seen in contrasted tarns of Aryan types of northern european extraction, one applies such strictures others sadder succour, and petit moi in sweet rancid pod spouting freedom crap to passers out. No this one wants it over and done with so much that she can get some quality sleep and spend precious time with her pissed neglected family and maybe by a stroke of luck meet some friends or just play walk the fucking dog as it seems these days everywhere you go there is some needy bitch on heat driving hound dogs mad, bad, and tedious to know
Now there was a blast from the decent past as if i remembered a rhythm of how to spout without stopping and looking up to see the product of my disinterred fingers weep; o for the generous rear of the cheesecake and smell of the loud rampaging nobheads stomping thunderously over the resonant needled flaw of presence and then sudden like almost stopping to consider too stark vivid options, the wild orchids and leafmould hoof persist only now as mummery, got a new one as there’s no two ways about it, what’s more besides bet it snows before next week is through, but fuck it let’s go then you and I and get those beers in Grimbeau mentioned ages back
Do I chance dare in this repair to risk the stair in darkness, or even in the flickering light in this state of twilight, distress and thirst? Onwards and downwards a wag suggests! What are you. a tomfool or an eejit tripper? Of course one will find at the heel of the hunt we all piss blood on a Friday night round here…

Schismism

nose

 

 

Joint effort redress complete…

read the funny papers
impeach begrudging reviews
a rare treat for imbalance to cringe

 

 

Two toffee muffins and Earl Grey tea
with almond milk and sunny honey
taste sweet after we ran for the hills,

holed up downtown speakeasies
watched a burning man fall to the ground
gape jawed onlookers caugh
the long last word ‘Catch’–

no takers came forward from the gallery

The eye of time regards us all
with scant regard
Stop fighting in the War Room
they say in hushed tones

The Prince and the Paedo
all at sea in a ropey  inflatable
–schisms fall like rain these days
confounding the living and the fed

Wall St Imbiss

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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