Ashes!
England…
Hezwunde
Ashes!
Jasmin trees tend
To droop plantive flops
In these the dog days
Ashes!
Ashes!
England have just won
The Ashes!
Issugh jurnee inn
Two A toothy ungnome
Jellow nomadick
Fine dingduh pursa fleedum
Inner bling-ding ovum I
Corned beef, mustard,
Bland discovered love apples,
skinned sliced twee slithered
cucumber, crass herb
& garlic olives (fat, hard, green),
two toasted abandoned stale crusts
of pumpkin seed bread,
a bottle of cheap white –
I am what I eat
Try out the new
shampoo in the afternoon
power shower splash
scrub-rub-a-dub-dub…
fresh
constellation
*
Yes, that’s the ticket!
Prod in a new direction.
Left to rot, I sullenly
Obeyed the ritual
protest period.
*
That’s the rut,
The Rub.
The rut I rot in
bright sunny shiny garden.
I am not warty
Just a bit whiffy.
If you can not
Sea me scooting
Making funk
Example
This
…put on a perfect hat
Blow it up
Real good
Shsshh…
Slide trombome
I ain’t got no right
To sing the blues
I’m not black
Or in no way proud
No Bessie Smith
Or Robeson
Still I got them
Coz of two flaps
A brain and blood
Various writhing sinew
Not to mention
Emotions
Saul went blue in the face repeating:
‘Stick it right, and I mean right
Up your sad fucking ass’
These words saddened me
As I considered
The horror of vegetables
…go learn the tricks
of the trade
of the game
then do:
Great advice
Is bound to
Disappoint like
Lurvisshness
&…
…why this concrete cross,
built on slabs set
porous and glass spectacle,
office blocks called
mum and dad and me?
Go on contact me,
tell me,
no chant or discipline
provides answers.
It is mad to ask,
says my inner voice
as I slash off my
compulsions in these words.
These ships of fools
that rundown europe
are neither good nor bad.
These are freaky things!
the more you care the more you oppress:
Excavation demands truth.
Grimbeau 