Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Prose
November 23, 2013
Epic
Otiose prose
Gets up my nose
Aside | July 27, 2013
Whiplash
Henry had mixed feelings about his invisibility. On the one hand was the sheer novelty, and, at the same time was his basic need for recognition, by act or not in deed
‘Indiana Jones and the Temple of Goobers.’ He burst forth.
‘Doom.’ Replied Flo, feeling left out of his thoughts and feelings.
Far but near away Maud returns to summer storm and the hell-thought that maters will remain unresolved forever.
Headcase tried to really get his head around the law of twelves.
Edward G busied himself with the balloon collection and the gooseberry tart and reflected that this would be a hard nut to crack.
July 14, 2013
Sixish
Warm, heavy, windless evening.
The stumbling minor chords of evening stumble
as a lazy dozer, sticky from unusual heat,
wends homeward to unstick the goo and
prepare for tasks unimagined,
unwelcome,
and sunshine important.
June 11, 2013
Betrayed by Biscuit Barrel!
Heroin Sonnet (One line is absent!)
Vermont’s Original Bag Balm tin laments
a pair of glasses (snapped for advertising
porpoises!), the child’s toy tractor, green
gin trapped naturally: there is floral décor
garish redolent of that chocolate
box, or some Huntley & Palmer’s biscuit tin
containing uncut Ammanford smack?
They ran him in, they ran him down: Besmirched
his name all over town. Self-righteous lazy
solemn nonsense! So, all good things must end
in silence. They were wankers and they
knew it; and he, apothecary, James
E. Blewitt refused to play their silly games.
Grimbeau 