Go on, then, if you dare,
Rise up, Croppy Boy,
Glean sinister coin from those, Your Master’s Ouns.
Our spies inform us about your bloody business well,
So, we remain sanguine, aloof, sipping on sweet, iced Spritzers,
Before deploying these Howitzers.
Crimson Cuprinol,
sand fence,
cure and enjoy.
Rude
Health is
wealth,
all the bells ring
and whistles blow,
Geronimo…!
Fuck me, afternoon choir!
Get out and get at it.
Wait…yes, an
Easternwind.
Just clout on.
Naked:
To the truth exposed!
Catch your death
Outside in that.
Stay in, smoke tabs,
keep warm and safe
from the Garden
Midnights.
Silence breeds lunchtime.
Tell tale signs:
Blue teeth,
Buboes,
Trombones
fetid Mind-Wort
Hyacynthia…
Up in Maine,
we bathe in Clover,
not Butter.
Radio Gone,
auto cut-off.
In the Smoke:
Big Matisse
Jazz Gig.
Scissor Sisters
to preside?
Sounds on the Staircase.
Voices without faces.
Cup in the Galley.
Prospect of Coffee
and Perfidy.
Great Allotments of Albion yield up
sweet pea & radish.
The bearded mates look maddish
and lose well
the first challenge, woody, blemished
offerings get scant consideration from the judge,
old before his time, made over for the telly.
A sex god with a perverse
glint in his eyes
when he says ‘the last thing we want to see
is a drooping sweet pea.’
He knows, you know
Silent
Angelus:
car noise,
rodeo,
stampede!
Five wide virgins
Still nowt doing
Midday blooms
in passing cloud,
Brrghhh.
Turn up heat.
It is
Garlic bread still
under grill.
Cheerful tunes
trill ditties,
twee baroque
flute and warble
while We
observe the fig tree
perspicaciously.
Let us cry together and laugh alone,
change is as good as a rest, we all say.
I wish we could come up with something new
from time to time, or just start crying,
go to bed, make an early night of it.
Then I could laugh myself to sleep again.
So slept,
heavy warm
lush
day sleep,
like a child
to bed
in daylight
to wake
in daylight
an eyeblink
then
an eyerest
now
Grimbeau 