Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: Wireless

Jetflop & Samson

Amyl

 

Sunday morning scrub
Wind blows like a stammer,
winkles drapes,
dissipates
replaced by pastel
blue and pink graffiti
over thinned out chestnut woods

Fertile Ground

2688 (1)
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…

Wanted Man

1781

 

Toe wrapped up anew
boney walkman ascending
stares up to see
a pelican swallowing
suburbia in one gulp
curlew chicks slide down
ballooning gizzards
of sodden gazebos
~

Killed off a lot of half hours
waiting for answers
to pressing questions
moved off
eventually
eschewing time zones
transported by taunts
loose canons and silly wizards

Oliphants & Berserkers

O'Morse where art thou

 

 

ain’t got no time for messing; original thought sought; panic brought forth nowt; busy morning to chew over;
a bitter campaign; internecine warfare in the shires; who drew that line in the land?

the wind gets up apace whipping up a storm a white island volcano coughs its disapproval causing five
to perish on a far off event horizon

black holes are practicising cannibals that will eat eachother in the end engendering a pompous rumpus in
the parly houses that remain

it was then it dawned on me it was midwinter and i ought to make sacrifice to fuck all and ensure the bucklers
are fit for purpose

it was noted as odd when the supply train arrived before the vanguard and the smell of sizzling bacon
entranced our half starved elephants and berserkers

Flavella found paltry the consolation of knowing that persistence was its own reward as she gathered lilacs
in the spring scattered on the ringpull strand

Air Weaves

day-1

 

…radio morning:
Barg,.. CPS Snow…the Warp

and The Anarchy by Dalrymple
wherein Clive Of India
does himself in

with a rusty penknife on a luxuriant jakes…

& Eliot’s missus opts for happy pills
taken aback by Dostoevsky  elation
epilepsy, gaming

and sheer fucking Joi de Vivre

Why is this comic?
I dunno
You’re the expert
End of sonic

Head below

Heironymush Tosh springs to mind
Fat blackbird on bare mountain ash
tobacco yellow beak
beech leaf clings to dog fur
nightlights glow through mist…
Dilith strikes traditional note
grabs old hacks by the scrote and throat
invoking hostesses of rebecca
starlets and harlots rid the streets of slime
oozing under chapel doors
like strawberry juice and penury

just before afterwards…

1782105_778429402185641_418958319_n-620x

 

 

…nobody seen talking when one arrived and one left on a mission to Coventry  (a unique silence fell)
felt nothing no matter how hard could not relate felt very awkward (a true quality of
light)
concave faces impress with natural reluctance to crack smiles while sedentary ( a screw came loose)
on return the ashtrays and coffee cups were absent without leave incidentally (a hound bayed blue)
stranglers and burglars concluded the account of recent deft grand larcenies ( a smell of tranquil ear)

Burning Bash

expo1

 

—Burnt out, or so you say. All burned out. Dried up, but like what—wadi or toast, wreck, ruin, candlestick or freak storm? Where there’s life…where there’s life. That’s what they always say
—Toast it is then: crusty brown wholemeal toast burnt black, iffy thermostat…
—Not bad, not bad at all
—No heart & soul mind you
—Husky, though, even a little dusky (ha-ha)
—Coffee brown roasted funnel dregs
—Still damp!
—Left out when the sun was at it’s…
—Zenith?
—Strongest
—Wow…that is real burnt!

The plague years, they said, burn themselves out.
A peculiar variety of auto da fe
It would seem to have been
Divinely ordained.

Fire starter & hosepipe surge; belle, bookie, & candelabra!
Have they moving the furniture around again?
Yes. They never stop it these days.
so much so sunshine & showers
seldom clash these days.
So well do they behave themselves.
And clouds no longer burst.
Not since many a long year.
Dry as salvages we are:
Mesos, stackpoles, arid drumlins…
Only lithographs remain,
ink shadow plays, traced on distressed concrete,
splashes wink on toppled sarsens, drizzle laps on banished dolmen…
sure it’s better than nothing, anything’s better than splat:
‘That’s what they always say’
—a coalition of crackpots, by gum!
Well Would you Adam & Eve it?
Iron Sadie morphs up
before your very bleary eyes
It defies all common sense, she said.
It ought not be allowed, she bled.
Curtains shut below but not above,
marked down the mental sentinel
Must have Gone to Hull in a handcart
On the run in Kingdom come
Caught red handed bonkers in
Fingers in the till
Golden City of tiny lies,
Pottersville emits more heat than light
ominous stench of ordure
So who was it scared the horses?
All enemies are liars
I am an enemy
Cogito ergo summer suit
Pass me a government
I think there’s one in my rainbow
Shunshine & showers wee small hours
Aha! Red biddy bam a lamb
It’s a blunderful midwife
This should never have happened
To us Old Newtonians
As June defines an end to May—

Think this this → Here
So read the legendary
stAte called (t) Ired
in-Comprehending
optionless, prone, akimbo,
gersplatted after
The Fall
The fall
takes it clean out of a body
in unholy smoke!
(that in which it all goes up)

watch it go up quick then
pfffhhhszz!
Vertical matchbox soaked in sun
The floor was too hot to walk
Back in nineteen eighty one
No-go area then: nowhere area when?

Some say emergency were slow
Slower than a fireball is fast
Grenfell tower, Latimer road
Notting hill, West London showed
Up, up, up, for what it’s worth
A charnel house in a sea of dearth

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

Litmus Toast

1082051043

 

 

In the shell of the derelict Whalehouse coolies puzzle over paradoxes set by lounge bar lizards with slit me gizzards after throttling and poke me in the eye with starched cravats who feed off one armed bandits parked by signs marked exit

Once beside a time   empty handed punters   beg  favours feign worry spoof  anguished monochrome saviour  foster righteous outrage   really biding time  until soft cops came by in drag   quelling din & quenching   thirsty fires one by one

The fun had barely begun  an ill disposed hermit fell foul of a a fishy dishy   only found out to the cost later

She was an alligator at heart   who fed off a baked potato   he found too hot to fondle
A portrait of a disappointment just  for a change

She claimed that when he looked around casual took a bitesize chunk of grumble pie then settled down to face off a blowey night part lit by fazed green candle night …

Green golden sleeves droop willowy hanging limply over sable fable plots of footpads tripping lightly on elastic flagstones

 

Sneak thief nimble wily   attend the gulley snipe’s   consumptive giggles  mock echo ghoulish chatter & the splatter dash of infidels dissolves down rancid runnels

Air drains for miasma from hoop lanes where squat arched floribunda sprout from brick grikes and get mistook for feral catnip

Loss leader posies,ark the spot…fistful of sixes, fistful of sevens  overspruced suitors  don best bib and tucker stride coyly bolt upright

Besmirched by coal juiced sleet just dropping by to pass on a promise of nevermore sorrow & eternal blisses

Stole furtive kisses contacting sublime lilting learned on all things and everything you honour to neglect
overmuchly.

Meanwhile downtown Hope sprang eternal tin the human beast thanks to electric shock therapy interrupted by an outage

Episode seven: The Rape of the Lick; Five go Apeshit in Dudley Salterton (the only game in town); Deaf Mango Party Pack plays a Humdinger de Luxe al fresco

Carpal tension quelled at last by stirrup pump & gurgling unction   Going going gong rang out…Squawky Flitch prevailed over a jug of brine before  bringing up the main

During the crash of two zeros eight we consider eight fugees queuing up outside
Northern Rock in Brixton rescuing a lifetime’s savings.

Rodgered once more by de Cover Up they retreat into Insecure obscurity; battening down hatches; weathering the storm –The one that never stops

Hurricane Hutzpah hits Louisiana; Twisters blister bayou wasteland; how savage are the lakes of Pontchartrain?

Langston takes the wavy air   One in the pot One ready to go   Read above  head full of garbage gust needed to clear the space of missiles

Merrily…Merrily

NGS Picture ID:1217302

 

 

If there is no wind
drift
sleep idle whittle
while way your day
in froth and foible
idle
like an eidolon
If there is no wind…

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