Housework
Lunch upon
time used
every second
fecund
Sporting matching
bonnet and black, baggy
jumper.
Sweaty, seedy boxers,
and fresh Homer slippers.
Ready for inaction.
Frost
promised,
don elastic
cotton vambrace,
the day begins.
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Postcards from Today
July 30, 2017
Fleshpots
Porter slugging as rains beat drown
Drove Old Bell to Horse & Groom
Afternoon swell ales & gasbags
Grace free air conditioned flatulence
Caught up on long lost anti-heroes
Remnants of tandoori knights
collapsing in blue suede abandon—
where’s the point of cleaning up
when it only gets dirty again?
~
Midsummer rain birds waddle
Ritually tantalise boney ghosts—
Ship infested once again
Ratty, puffy curse filled Zen
Stuff their mouths quick silver till
pink gums bleed sprout gold teeth
& Tongues ooze slurry, weak jaws creak,
mouths deny, despise and munch
So cruel now once so wondrous comrades
~
Wishing one daft pond farewell,
Waltzing slow through naked blushes,
sniggers, pissed emboldened hushes
What a little magic cannot do
To geese mislaid & drowsy Frogspawn
Six thought eight count nine bells twice—
disturbance brings division thrice—
strange waters let misrule connive—
~
strawberry noses, blotchy skin
mischief makers, caustic gin
floating on a wave of ale
along the ditch & cricket pitch
beyond the sodden common
all downhill around the bend
past St.Mary’s obscure spire
stark granite suburban Dead
congregate for wakes & ale
July 28, 2017
Odd Jobs
Is there something wrong with everything, a flaw, a rift, a fissure, the meerest hairline fracture inbuilt obsolescence has a lot to answer for; so, later today dangling precariously upside down by the ankle attached to a withered yellow rubber band I will venture to examine various suspect roof tiles If I have the time Or indeed the inclination
July 26, 2017
The Compleat Works of Grimbeau
#1
What kind of fuel are you?
Wind, she replied,
What about you?
Paper
#2
When do they beguine
The beguine?
After the
…
#3
The night had
A thousand
Eyes
Ouch!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine
#4
Nights in White Satin:
Freezin’
#5
Young and green
Only seventeen
okra
#6
Who let the dogs out?
Who let them
in?
#7
And now
The end
Is
Here
July 26, 2017
No Smokin’ Nuns…
petrified rainbow
flaccid lambeosaurus
washed up in Bexhill-on-Sea
—aren’t men useless?
July 26, 2017
Nicey-Nicey
Donut talk juss eat
Said bulging face
Illuminating
My face with spit
Sure I butted him
Split the orange
Like two thumbs do
July 21, 2017
Rue Morgue Avenue
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
July 20, 2017
Novel on Toilet Paper
More Myth than Pith
read the plain yellow cover-
no author, no publisher, no nothing to go on
apart from copious words on waxy,
grey municipal toilet paper,
all held together with a giant orange paper clip.
Emma had found it on her doorstep bubble wrapped in a plain brown envelope
after responding to a gentle tap on her bathroom window
A slight smell of lavender and carbolic wafted up as she flicked pages with a numb thumb. The writing was small, sharp dark pencil.
The hand right-slanted, neat, clear, compelling.
It was the story of her life so far
…just keep on going, keep on keeping on, just keep going on, one leg after the other, over and over again, running, walking, trotting, stumbling, hopping, skipping, jumping, leaping…just keep on going on and on…
—Prose-poetry! My very favourite! She trembled
…hurtling it is, hurtling past fast. & I…
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