The Scrunged Wotsit
Aloha from Haywain-Ho! Attenuated morning endeavour, the cringe and cower again fear I: domestic interventions such as the dilate regard of cathedral candles, floppy hats in white shadow, crows car…
Source: The Scrunged Wotsit
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Prose poem
December 31, 2015
Sea
Sea I said
…
idly
pointing
over the point
that bit of
Sea
Yea sea so
Sea!
Yeah, yeah…
Please do not get het up,
Sounding like a Gatling Gun.
Quite naturally
I conjectures that i
Touched a raw nerve
August 14, 2015
The Joy of Sax
Phew!
So much to do
and
no point in any of it;
just plain old survival;
avoidance of mishaps,
relief from pain relief.
No simple sample pleasure.
*
Eleven it says:
Morning constitutional
To the shed and back
Phantom bouquet
bonfire smoke whispering
Secret trysts at noon
Thrilled to bits I don
A cloak & gagger…
*
Phone calls to invite me to luncheon;
of course,
I accept with puerile alacrity.
What ensues is vintage time warp!
Clear the decks for a couple of hours;
put pressing needs on hold;
suspend more disbelief.
*
Hot colouring book trend offer:
one legged dormouse to play Plato;
Dizzy the Womble pours scorn…
Exasperated! Go touch your heels
Take odd drugs on a building site
Discover unknown places
April 19, 2015
The Quandary
Is there fur will, yes or no?
a bald dog hollered.
Finger shows telling
ghoulish tales of reading
after dark descends
the staircase bearing scissors:
The Barber of Free Will
March 3, 2015
Faulk
all that water
under the bridge
avoiding
the swim
you cannot
bathe in
the same river
once
February 9, 2015
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
February 6, 2015
The Fraudulence of Easy Grazing
Note that time, the morning shift is done.
Chats, coffee, fags and candles.
The incubator of the day’s potential gossip.
The Bullshit Zone.
I am a serious writer, he smirked
and stared at the word ‘smirked’,
half laugh, half cough, throat clearing tune, drumbeat
of phlegm, weak husky,
light breathing,
round shouldered smoker,
playing poker with the day.
Do you think it’s bluffing?
Let it go, Jo…
Yes, the early shift,
the pause for ninety,
then the second, windless coming.
Hunger grows.
Food consumes time.
Time is food’s next meal.
What is mine?
A plate of last night
or something novel.
A pineapple and oxtail pastie?
Sounds nice.
Might catch on…
Are there crisps, snacks,
nibbles, biscuits, chocolate trees,
crackers enough to shut me up?
I pause.
Revise.
Devise.
Invent.
Come up with new things.
See if they fit, if they are the right size,
if they squeak when I walk.
What colour, taste, smell?
What is the provenance?
The pedigree.
No – it was not enough.
It was Plenty.
January 27, 2015
She Dog Night
One o’clock post-kip
Alarm!
Instigates
a comedy of coffee;
a droop-eyed facile post;
a headful of Cape Cod radio snow,
and then the dogs, the raucous curs,
yelping all night long, warning off,
repelling stalking predators, slumber,
stray sleep-walking creditors.
Then some sleep,
but just itchy, tetchy bits and pieces, tosses and turns.
And the waiting. The waiting for the barks to resume.
Now comes the
car doors, the revving of early birds
off to the Smoke to do the night thing.
Obey.
…changed into a pair of deckchairs &
a faded purple clout having toed the line
between night & day, summoned (you guessed)
by dogs.
A stumbling, humbling, grumbling
shower at glumrise,
heavy lead heavens above –
the best place for heavens,
I find.
On the Whole
January 22, 2015
Ear Blaze
…something moved me
stopped me in my steps
left me here
teetering
Prone as
a Wallander
on a curved
barbed wire
Grimbeau 