NINE is eight found wanting stale orchids splutter pure airways clog up overnight no second breath come first gasper justice thirsts as curfew darkness drains March makes aether culprit,
Flirty snide barbs rib and niggle vindictive zests defy belief --when will words fall petal free? consult yond inner demon seed that insufferable bore that force feeds you breast fed in orphic bubbles drives me wild eyed to distraction shot drops me like a polar bear found seething raging blowing sliced through by sabre sleet marooned out on a dodgy asphalt shoulder starving
Only got so far that they could fake my name before the pants were pulled down and the sacraments began blurted it out in dribbles and spits left little old me in a market town alley who would have thought it would happen here over here of all places
stillborn labour long and arduous; earthquakes grumble
sullen tallow poesy, very nice though it seems,
a can of worms called
cryogenic masochism. the rood that came unglued. nothing hinged springs easy. Where is it to go? Forlorn in no faced media; a crowd of ones and zeros swaps ; O not to live like that if I make it through this eternal night;
Snoopdogs of a thousand faces;
lit from underneath by lime twixt screens disposed to wander
looking for a break a let up in the bombardment reveals a pile of rubble heaped
beside a cranky trebuchet lightly dusted with talcum powder redolent in no way of instant mash
Woke up muttering astonishment, ruby jumper crushed on a damask outcrop, leapt limply from penthouse window, thought I must a crazed intruder, some illegal alien or a late night shopper carousing minus funny money,
Rain lashed Kildare High St, dead of night, lumpen teeming moonies, letting out the dogfish, floppy velvet hats, shirtsleeve weather strange, break in clouds deduced, curious chair dismantled in a narrow alley. Upturned news stand consequence, pushy driver takes the rap, formula one marauder, empty room pulsates, furnished lobby giggles, holiday let contracts, commands a salient view, bendy flat horizon, step outside on stilts, reckon high on cedar, always muddled vista, inconclusive sparrow, reverent pariah, incautious wing commander, terminally droll.
Hubristic two faced cubists should not wonder, leap of faith required, fatal blunder buster, sods conjoined by deadlock, noman torn asunder. Rhyming slang bewildered, gentle thunder applauds, door jamb screeching doughnut, head on concrete pillow. Leaping crayfish willow. Bruce Lee Brilleaux padding. Me no hip hop shopper, came a sherpa cropper. dropped a deep space hopper, insulted missus mopper, plangent belly flopper, blissful billow popper…
Tell sour story your way, pulling no prissy punches and when the time comes roundly recite the following by hearth:
How dreary the winds shriek and whine: The trembling shadows grow chill. O soul of my soul, wert thou mine!
O where are the stars that did shine? The moonlight that tinselled the hill? How dreary the winds shriek and whine!
Despair ’round my heart doth entwine, Far soundeth my cry weird and shrill: O soul of my soul, wert thou mine!
I’ve quaffed to the dregs the mad wine Of passion, but under my sill How dreary the winds shriek and whine!
’Tis thine, is the dream so divine, That doth this vain yearning instill; O soul of my soul, wert thou mine!
’Tis mine, here to crave and to pine For what thou wilt never fulfill; How dreary the winds shriek and whine! O soul of my soul, wert thou mine!
an apothecary swallows fast
it went down the wrong way
chuckles of embarrassment
lewd conducive intimation
penelope's dreamboat melody
tempts and titillates swineherds
a discreet number parked deep down
in the novelty oxen hide
the men in yellow hats watch Eloise
shyly unwrapping a cough sweet...
rococo seashells shatter
a new baroque is stillborn
Rube and Curt were not impostors
But verity was brute traduced: refracted
Sure there was wine Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn Before my tears did drown it. Is the yeare onely lost to me? Have I no bayes to crown it? No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? All wasted?
festive nestlings playing up, most het up indeed, catch my eye
getting jumpy, get the wind up
Beware of swarthy eggsharks, capricious pine martens, pernicious rapine twitchers.
flurry overwrought inside, see insecurity in frenzies uniformity
Consterned as cops vexed fledgers issue squeaky peeps awaiting flaming June in rueful Minnesota
Carried away on arboreal gusts frisk baby leaves,
Martens fast encroach
Two skips is all it took
Two shakes of a lamb’s tail
To wipe out a twentieth century life
spent keeping head above water
Rarely if ever ahead of the game
Trading off lives with careless talk
Having a bit on the side
Giving as good as you got mind you
Sauce for the goose
Is sauce for the gander
Always an eye for a chance,
Jones’ suck up the Jones’s
unhinging light air traffic and small furry animals
o’erleaping avarice; now we send in the homespun drones;
reinforce a no-fly zone around the wasp factory;
Forthcoming static times hang in
a balance of increments crisis;
Till a feral cat let out of the pisspot of despots, tosspots & all their worthy heirs
Declaims this barely adds up to a steaming heap of beans…
So much for no grumbling, Nigel. First thing that came to mind. Poor me! Poor characters, all on the samey-blame me path. It bores me frigid Nigel.
Aja is an island freed of its natives by slavers in 1863 and remained so until the mid-sixties when reclaimed by six intrepid schoolkids
robbed a boat and hid out there for fifteen months in perfect harmony. William Golding was a god bothered soak in his spare time.
Friday on my mind (for it was a Friday); shifty manoeuvres are afoot; a climate of suspicion prevails; all locked down with nowhere to go.
Wanna topic. Lack a tonic. A gin and tonic for the troops (gifted clear sky-blue ideas plucked free from the aether); thought of it twice and got frustrated.
Climbing up the walls. Whit Monday radio news: windows open, summer day, lockdown wobbling, allure of mithra, life lived in one day, back to shitty work tomorrow,
half-term hols from shutdown schools, many will never return, social fabric wearing thin. No subject crops up; birdsong soundtrack palesjust gone nine
comes a moan for all seasons, rut-stuck in a gruesome shamble. Fire breathing vipers lick crusty ankles all hope evaporates for peace come flaming June.
Lining up for the second wave, the seventh is the strongest. Rip tides plunder those too dumb to flee, disbelievers and romcom tourists gather at the river, bored shitless by these endless update spiels,
Green mud I declare, not to mention yellow air, dragons turned to minnows and mice to toothy tigers, just because two toffs got the chop at precisely the right moment Timing is everything it seems when the wind blows backwards and the waves return for one last lap. I take time to observe the spots on these bamboo leaves before me And note they bear a striking resemblance to the candescent snotter of dilettantes
Snow disappears Guileful children on a beach. Acropolyptic. Hope and Joy At Christmas c 1947 seventy years later. Wrapped up warm pockets, Fur. Athens. Green Park black in snow. Black and white snap. Tense audition: slow cello pizzicato. Angelic wails receding. Haunting voices clamour. Ghost beach cacophony. Polperro parrot. Densely uninhibited. Rosewood box sarcophagus; in saecula saeculorum. Dirce row the boat ashore, allelujah! Mehta and life sentences; brahmin breaths and tea tree branches. Caste system begets Vast system. Grain. Verlaine. Purple pupil beater. Flageolet old bean. Tap Water sommelier; aficionado of bruised chihuahua avocado.
Ten O’clock— Big Seven. Threepack Strumpet, Sir Cumstantial,
Phidippides takes the bait (bad day for peas); black pudding weather;
Socrates in a basket; wax my slippers, Maestro please; abject please on bended knees; laxido unction up tuxedo junction; keep on plugin’, sluggin & sloggin’—get to hang Ovid one day; then u is milin;
Alice…hair flows like meadow waves;
Midday—no prime minister-no questions; stretching hams, fizzy up; paeans to beauty, mannikins of mildew; auto scribbles; no hard shoulder to cry on; heavenly ten ton truck;
Kersplat Morrissey. Old Tosh cops it. Amazon scammers fuck me round. Louis ain’t rough
Ninety minutes spent wisely in the organic community means death on a couch of sedge in the third world. Plague takes three million worldwide every second. Big numbers crowd sevbig books. Thor world fills ledgers thinner than most
Grey warm flat empty sandstone treasury of Petra in Sunday drizzle
Monday is the boiler fix, a dirty spoon abandoned , a muzzy morning nuisance caller, an offer to be sniffed at, a fresh bed of noses, an aqueous shower, and a tale of two leopards disputing a missing bone
Feel compulsion comin on Moon shines under curfew; pub names seek out provenance; swept up dog shit and fag butts; morphing on shampoo; gurning calypso whistles; tailspins round on moccasins; issues mystical whispers; moon shimmers underwater; lamprey medusa turns bongos into boulders; bleak cold war imaginings old as drenched dépaysé hills
divine fingers flexed; sick of reflection; noises off confound; fucking radiators hum; mind drifts to arcadia; planets lost to soundbites; melancholy flower; limpid soft eyelids droop; molten magma tears flood in; fissure on the ocean; squinting barracuda scatter; flying fishwives bitchy gossamer; caught shoplifting by mantrap anchovy; collective conch shell ears twitch; beach fine tooth back combed sparkles; electrifying sighting; touch static ocean tingle; giggle nervily; end of media for twelvemonth; never on to follow fashion; mores to boot save a fortune; purchase rawl plugs clear of conscience; epistles replace missiles; dreamy brave new worlds; a sure solution to eye pollution; perpetual indulgences of the ear; waxing lyrical no doubt; blessed peace and quiet; profaned by preposterous plugs; fingerful of secrets; no go dip your wick; careful with that wax eugenie; dunno where its been; a butterfly picks its nose in siam--and wham; bob is not your uncle;
an apothecary swallows fast
it went down the wrong way
chuckles of embarrassment
lewd conducive intimation
penelope's dreamboat melody
tempts and titillates swineherds
a discreet number parked deep down
in the novelty oxen hide
the men in yellow hats watch Eloise
shyly unwrapping a cough sweet...
rococo seashells shatter
a new baroque is stillborn
Rube and Curt were not impostors
But verity was brute traduced: refracted
