Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: writing

The Crunch

Moses, Moses, holy Moses!

A turn up for the books.

Four quick glances

an element of surprise.

An intriguing risk demonised.

I think of you all the time, she said.

Puking in her handbag.

That’s some love poem

~

My eyes are clouded over with self-deceit,

these words are redolent of feet

that walked proud as punch,

no more for now,

no more,

the crunch

Gascoigne- d’Ascoigne

Post meridian

my little cupcake commits

genocidal actions:

hangs a false lord

by the neck till dead;

visits the haberdasher

after a light lunch

of eggy surprises

deep fat fried in

grand larceny

and hair lacquer;

kicks and sniggers

a begging wastrel

when no-one’s looking;

and indulges in

radical origami.

 

 

 

 

Tarantelle

yesterday gives way

seven tambourines  crackle

ecstasy elides

Nicey-Nicey

Donut talk juss eat

Said bulging face

Illuminating

My face with spit

Sure I butted him

Split the orange

Like two thumbs do

Westward Huh!

Gone grey clippers

Tea time approaches

Sound wind & horn

A perceivable absence

No shape, no form

An afternoon

Obedient.

Dry Auden

A struggling writer: a writer struggling;

a beaten brow: a brow beaten.

Quandaries. Sundries. Tuesdays.

Sunday’s Just like Monday’s is…

let’s call it straight, Joey

(not that old crap again!)

you gave me a one way ticket to Pookaville!

Palokaville…

urghh, don’t interject, I was emoting.

Yea sure you was.

On the waterfront there ain’t no latrine duty.

Cryptic as McGillicuddy,

Manhattan wept, just like Jesus did.

Left smallholding:

…lead Speckled Hen, brain a grain, fleck a cur…

An iota insightful, just a jot, a dot:

a wimple blip, a new black spot got.

Ceramics dynamic, silica majolica,

cilia and sillier, glass beads rattle

porcelain cattle, free mantle peace,

Cape Codology,

crystal mistral Bristol…

Old Sparky

Eluard was once

Grinkel;

Wayne once was

Morrison,

and Wayne

became

Jayne.

Gone Fishin’

Wistful, windless, desultory:

frugal, fawn, beige, puce _

Elvis has left the building

Pulling a fast one again

~

Half-six on the dot:

doors slam, off to the coast,

Bodies glide on the high tide,

rolling away to chilling gyres

~

tussles and rubs

from jetsam and kelp,

nibbled by gulls

eschewed by sussed brill

~

Trance Dance

Uproarious desires

keep on moving,

bobbing and weaving,

ducking and diving,

slipping and sliding,

eel and ostrich pie

and jugs of foamy gush.

Lip-smacking jallop!

Arabian guillemot

Skulling curvy dunes

Pooh sticks and runes

Popular tunes

Rippling quick,

quick slow sand