a hundred years of attitude
many any adverse airy enough to question zeitgeists risk complicates rage not worthy of the dribble lavished on slum occupants
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Wireless
June 11, 2017
June 10, 2017
Daisy Lingers On…
—a coalition of crackpots, by gum!
Well Would you Adam & Eve it?
Irony ladies morphing into ragdolls
before your bleary eyes
denies defies all common sense, she sighs.
It ought not be allowed, she bled.
Curtains shut below but not above,
marked down by the mental sentinel
‘Must have Gone to Hull in a Handcart
hijacked on the run in Kingdom come’
or caught red handed
counting 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 Etonians, they say
As June provides an end to May—
June 8, 2017
Colloquy
—Burnt out, or so you say. All burned out. Dried up, but like what—wadi or toast, candle or 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
Quite Divinely ordained.
Fire starter & hosepipe; belle, bookie, & candelabra!
Have they been moving that furniture around again?
Yes. They never stop it.
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…
Lithographs remain,
mere shadowplays, traced on pre stressed concrete,
splashes on toppled sarsens, drizzle on banished dolmen…
sure it’s better than nothing, anything’s better than:
‘That’s what they always say’
June 7, 2017
Tard
False start, phantom urges,
torpid orchid, shy to leave.
Back down, board the junk,
Jesternista, caught a crab,
choppy weather, flayed on blether,
sever Trevor, war not love,
H-bomb ambrosia,
cream the pesky varmint rice.
Ring the changes, ding-a-ling.
There’s a thing. Hell’s got bells!
Jesus wept, overslept,
missed the bus, succubus.
Train to Darksville,
never late, never late, never late…
June 7, 2017
When Epidurals Take Stock
Stumbled, hugged, slurped,
puffed the grizzly, mizzly
still born grim morn
Away with the furies,
the septic harpies,
the skivvying puggled blurb,
the chivvying, nagging
behemoth of claptrap and piffle
squatting in my gnomic canyon.
The limescale crumbles line the mug
The unicorn dismantles the cradle
The dish does away with the spoon.
Everyone chips in when
Push comes to shove
At the heel of the hunt
May 31, 2017
Bold Turkey
A Prial of poems
about giving
up
using cigarettes
as a metaphor.
Smart, uh! Believe me!
I’m a Vicar
May 29, 2017
PrickLy heAt
Approaching six ye olde bells
From an obtuse crimson angle
Poised to emphasize
birdsong unfurling charcoal
lamp light found flagging
old stone rolls over moist
Far distant dawn horizon
Difficult it is to view
The world disappear
From more of a distance
Than I do at present—
David Hume wrote that just once
While dying before
Social media cropped up
Unexpectably
In the blink of an eye
At the press of a button…
Latifundium
Quite out of the blue
Extends as far as
the third eye can see
start the week with off
an epic why not
see a fine lady upon
a white horse called Uffington
over the style follow the path
sidestepping all the sheep shit
till you come on an eye socket
full of wastepaper
and suburban terrorists
dropping crap in droves
on this hill of ancient times
traffic jam & Jerusalem
lacking investment
except for more golf courses
built by subhuman eyesores
say let’s call it Bunker Hill!
May 23, 2017
SaDDle SnOres…
Icy blue tooth midnight
piebald cobalt crystal spurs
weather maps depict it
switch blade knife sharp leaf
eviscerates crisp
punk sepulchral dawn
~
After pork roast Leaf dropped off
dumbstruck fair three hours
woke to find the same before
wooden stair to Bedfordshire
…
May 22, 2017
May Come September…
Mud found in third eye
Oversight on your behalf
Foot in mouth disease
Calamity Jane holds up
the Deadwood Stage for kicks
