Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: writing
November 4, 2018
The Tomb of the Unknown Swimmer
Careful with the ax now. capillary pumphouse. Needles. Back to skin. Neck of Lamb to tenderise. Food for thought indeedy.
Gravel falls on the Bog of Allen, the mighty Shannon, and her puss, Apostrophe—so the world turns purring tortoise shell streched
Quick swallows catch the eye. A Little cloud passes glacial slow. Count the fingers on each hand.Made a note for future reference.
Filed it under Pluvium. Fine was his soft chestnut mop. Hair moves like water rushes. Liquid. Jealous. Moi you bet.
Eyes souls windows see. Little green cloudburst. Plain as the nose on your Holiness. Put my furt innit there. Engage then utter. Nerves to blame. Jitters. Too willing to plead loathsome
Articles before the fact denied. Nosey eyes mouth off truth be known look just like Picasso by nightwatchman snoozing
‘The Tomb of the Unknown Swimmer’ got a certain I dunno quite sweet about it. Popeye’s on! All hail good fortune to Folkestone
Vicar—he who didn’t make it before the replay of Match of the Day. the man who swam around the British Isles sustained by bananas
alone, a flotilla of yellow peels in his wake, wailing sirens rest, fruity pleasure cruiser horn blasts gone, but Leicester are going to the
Boss’s funeral in Siam and cannot make and the bandstand children of Woking are absent after the inflatable slide occurrence, and the SAS
have gone to look for the swimmer now feared subsumed by banana skins suspected to be caught on a rip tide once captured sublimely by
Turner after wild sex on the beach with Tracy Emin listening to Black Uhuru passing by bareback riding on a rescue donkey who hatched a
secret Brexit plan with Ant coz decks got cold feet on sensible browns and sees no future in the past and dreams of pastures new in Ruislip
off seventies gatefold albums—Mornin’—Mornin’ Door slams too.Away to go or overnighter forgot toothbrush and pyjamas bless him anyway
November 1, 2018
Three Chariots for Pluto
—C’mon will ya, times running out you know
—As it has forever, Darling. Enjoy the frisson of the wait, the knotted ache, the acrid nag of doubt, the bilious suffle, the dank fulfilling disappointment of delay…
Darling squirmed at sea confounded, sulky, frowning, entrapped, stormy eyed. Port worked slow calm numbing Darling into dreams of old ship’s company. The first bottle barely touched the sides then the jabber started and the lights went wonky. Darling crashed. The house had been adapted for this purpose. A cottage hospital bed in stumbling distance, a sink to piss in, an uppy downy lift, handrails of various, drop down cupboards mind your head, various sticks and staves, bags of pills and sooth me ointments, an exercise ball called Ned. And the guards? He wrote, they confided with a smirk when asked. But not his real name, nobody reads it. Why so, you may ask. Because they had not never seen it. Unpublished then? Worse than that: unwritten. Has that helped? Not sure yet. Thirsty now. Quench it.
Sacrificed three spoonfuls of processed bulgar to the grumpy stomach gods before crossing a river of no return. Not in this atomic form. Michael White seems a nice chap. Goodhearted yet didactic. Why the yet? Implied contradiction. More like sloppy language. Some will never know a book. Rubber ham given a wide berth. Left out uncovered overnight splashlength from the tap. Fruit flies are harmless. No says a pear skin. Beethoven chord. Eighth sonate. Know he’s in the room. Intemperate but wait. Yet waits. It it time yet? Not really here at all. Try telling the clock. Just marches off nonchalant. Da da da dum dum. Irregular as. Arhythmic. Clogged.
Gentle snoring. Shower day. One in every two. Don’t wear out the skin. It bleeds. Rots without mind. And with it. What then? A scolding rebuke for afters. Suddenly you remember, there was no seeming trigger, try and garner detail, that’s when it gets dubious, a smell, a touch, something sensate, but it’s gone, so you fill the empty. Just let it be, let it rest a while. But it goes, the butterfly moves on. A glance. That tension in your neck melts. Tantric feels remote. Cheap pink fluffy slippers. Was that deliberate? And if so, so what? Oldest trick in the book. The no trick trick. None of us know what we get involved in. liars disagree. That’s what liars do. For good reason. Power plays. Epic sunsets past two days. Charcoal, golden, slow masses, subsumed by shadow, not in your pomp. Who cares if you don’t? Stumped. Strolling mind found absent. Seiche on water fills the sky. No reflection. Howzat? No need to really ask. Just kept walking. Funny old game bird. Head up arse in clouds. Mackerel springs, amber leaf, install smart meter at your peril. Swings and roundabouts. Sunshine on the copper slide. And the roundabout. Scary monster. Still turning with no one near. For the fallen, propelled centrifugal, thrown off. felt queasy all right. Every time after. Wet wood sombre stench. Cold as a witches. Found no mushrooms. Camouflaged by night. Glow worms ardour dank. Open a tin instead. Careful with the ax now. capillary pumphouse. Needles. Back to skin. Neck of Lamb to tenderise. Food for thought indeedy.
October 23, 2018
First poison songular, one eyed, jocular by elect. Here the yarn disintegrates, sugar rush beginning to suck, new toys to play with see, solo. Significant otter, Murdstone Memory,
chiffon wisps, misty graveyarn, drawn to it, nay compelled. Blame the weather that you say you make. Me is haunting me then is it. Dull ditch drudgery digging up dirt. Let’s pick
another spot. Say Casablanca. Ricks. Or is it Ric’s? up yer bum again, get off…Half term repose from Nursery rush hour, frozen over night some scream. Poor little mites seek
sanctuary in the mattress. Survival of the fattest. Me. Simms for a day. Sylvia, Sylvia, wherefore art house? Balance that book on yer head or you’re dead. Deportment bearing
poise. A Ginsborough Flicture. See it between the lines. Do it till your feet bleed. Post War austere. In the National Interest of the greater good they groomed you. Shove these fillets
in there, tuck your tummy in. steel corset a must. You must improve your bust. Ooo new nylons!
Themes of feelings to rote recite. Apple pie to order. Lashings of custard. O no you don’t— you are a starlet, baby. Oily lizard slimeball speaks pillow drool. Perm one from a cast
of plenty. Is that why she did it? More pricks than a pincushion. Over billiards eavesdropped. Evil snotties. Pimps sport warty cocks. Browned off with Bovil dregs or
Bisto paste. Hairy arsecracks, shirtails and gaiters, besocked, creaking floorboards, pulling out soon, receding tumult, light a Players. What’s my name? Saliva cesspit Ears
looking at you kid. Blackheads and beeswax. What big ears you have Grandpa. Think I’s gonna throw now. Take a peppermint. Only Fisher’s Friends. Quelle Fromage, Mon Dieu!
Stale Chanel, sweat beads form. Not little me. Cut. Pass the Gilbeys. About that part. Be in touch. Reborn a cliche. Whatever on earth happened, Pet? Got taken for a ride, but ate
October 22, 2018
Imaginary Man
Gypsy moth splutters overhead
Wave say cheese or butter
shiny chin up I pluck me a petal
for keeps as a familiar — Freed!
Stemless, infrontiered, horizonless, no jke. O!
undone’s oppo condescends to rose
Pollen hazards plait havoc from sensidata.
E,g, Misstook red cucumber for long tomato.
Consumer rights for wild Sumatra.
Brain tuna salad for Sinatra. Free the mond
—Ay. That’s the spirit.
Check for Nobby, nun frothcumin. Gate click bogus. Imaginary man.
Sleep deep through the magic hour,
late October sun,
low and strong, ignites
the mind’s kaleidoscopes. Snow falls
come to settle northern hills
under cover of the nightlight
October 21, 2018
Home Fish
Rum cove was mill pond smooth that eve. The dray men laughed too loud for easy air. Water lapped hollow on the inlet. How far out is safe to row, both mulled. Still meant ill, sounds carry gurgles, echoes travel, stealthy, slurred.
—Spruce up your caboose with the neck of a goose! Said Mullins, brandishing his cutlass mock threatening a now or never pose.
Music bathed the gloopy ether. Seagulls squawked indifference. A sacrifice most Tuesdays if I feed the shumbunkin corn flakes, a shag sneered wracked by hawthorn
—Said seabass emerged its mammy’s lug, two full moons late, a guttersnipe once told us on the promenade, left lug mind the right were grommet bunged. No exit, clearly posted, neon flashes, AC wired…
—From sinister portals, indeed. Chewed over down the years, and thus delivered, ‘Hi, tis I, chance of sip of your sup?’ Beggar off big brute, I’ll have yer…’
—Guts for gators, probed a scoopers face. Who he? One or tother. Why it matters not. Time for the Klaxon hoot?
Klaxon Hooted. A bottle rocked up. The message read:
All their life was regulated not by laws, statutes, or rules, but according to their free will and pleasure. They rose from bed when they pleased, and drank, ate, worked, and slept when the fancy seized them. Nobody woke them; nobody compelled them either to eat or to drink, or to do anything else whatever. So it was that Gargantua had established it. In their rules there was only one clause:
DO WHAT YOU WILL
because people who are free, well-born, well-bred, and easy in honest company have a natural spur and instinct which drives them to virtuous deeds and deflects them from vice; and this they called honour. When these same men are depressed and enslaved by vile constraint and subjection, they use this noble quality which once impelled them freely towards virtue, to throw off and break this yoke of slavery. For we always strive after things forbidden and covet what is denied us.[20]:159
—Book twenty! Blimey there’s a tome. Mullins was flummoxed. Perks lingered over it, identifying Rabelais, but why now of all times. It was, he concluded, for diplomatic purposes, a red herring.
—It’s nothing. Let’s go home.
~
Some sort of sick kick from it must they get. Must be. Perverse. Inaudible mutters, more than a mime. Stop. Crank it again. Whassat he said, marzipan muel. More bloody pop-ups, start up of the day, the sec I go near it, starts egging you on, near to dare and down the stair. Magic pen beats all. Screens are for mere tourists, juss look at ArseboooK. Ulterior motives, but how I diverge. Indian summer of the Tory Party it seems. Dangerfield did it for the Libs. Farewell Georgiana, brief encounters with bliss on the grounds of a country piles. You know I met Lloyd George? Yes me father told me when I was knee high to a kneecap. Stop. Oint of it I ask you. that was eerily early the mist that was. Turd stone from the sundial. Judd blink & youd mishit. Bollox to Bognor ignored. South of a bog. Stands it thus up for reason? Process of elimination, my weird Watson. Je never said that thought I will. I know. Know. Know. kNow. Comma. Odd the things that float past. Waters off Cloyne/ Good stretch of the shanks. Hit anything now. You could always put a light on. What. Break up such bliss. Stay in touch. Of course or perhaps. Sure youre a lang aukd time lone sun. Down to the cardboard. In mere wheeze dan won. Get gone with you. juss being sillier. Look Ma no hands! And various other bits. Attstops inbetwean. Love comes in spurts. Buy one get one free. Death on the High Street. Peepul turn ahey. Selfies with my new friend DDearDept. Lokk wow it trndz. So now lingo gets born. A gnu renascence occludes.
Broke the ice. Just slipped out. Automatically. Reports dismissed on artifificial grounds. Wrong fonts condemned. Matter of decorum. Costume & Rickets. Mere Methodolology. Sjould be a Church of it. On. Ward. Armies argue over refs. Wrong type of earrings. Lackings of the daisical dEpartntt. Not future innit. Means mean ends. Conveyancing. Xtian soil dryers Todays lesson a swiped from the Book of Herman Two Sticks. Drumroll maestro pleeze. Bugger Bognor Bbackwards. Hard act to follow. Famous lasts. Me or the wallpaper beyond my means sod under another sod under. Blessems all. Ashtrays to ashtrays. Divil first by a nose. O’Himmel Heaven’s Above put that down. Fetlock snap. Juss bending down to pick up a peashot. Pop! That’s your lot pal. Here’s some teeth to gnash while wailing. Much obliged was he?
A bum’s tear it was appeared, attracted a caskful of stares, cleaved, spigotted, deerstalkered, up for the ruse, no soft feelings you understand, throbbing nasal duct, something in my eye precursor of girly weepies, matinee idol what fell from Grace. What was he doing on her & herself a married wannabe. Book of Life lies open. Untouched by humane hands on yonder coffee table. Walnut inlaid, caryatids adrorned. Grapes’n’all Lot of time input, hobbies take. Tender acts of wooden love. Down memory lame in splint. See who that is coming up. Bugger me the bishop Ric. Late of Bath and Wells. Jaunty little mancub. Tells frquent tells of pewstuff mishaps. Ups and downs. Exercise really. Stand up Stiffs turn left on the way out. That’s you told, milady. Conscripted belligerent over traces kicks. Bit off more than is proven chewable. Gumshield orange peel on linoleum. Never failed me yet. Charming ickle mancub. No sado of a doubt about it. Dribbling desert wine in the naval cavity of Dr. Sop. Fortify the under fours he said. Whatever gets you through the night Kris. Mantle of moi dreams…from hair shaked but never stern. Ummm…
October 20, 2018
bop
Touched
by a
film of frost,
th e
chill cascades
Waspishly
fro m the fanlight
Squirts
Little nips
O f morning,
Bikini weather.
Motorway pile up
neuronal
city women
fret more
about how
they look
than wee fish do.
Pastel shy-blue, sky-blue
off beige clouds
Twenty eight thousand
Miles out
just now
A space boulder passed
by my
Shoulder.
October 8, 2018
For the Sheer Hell of it…
Four chinooks beetle low underhead
describing a rough diamond formation
slow but faster than cars that kerb crawl past
I wonder how the giant laurel appears to them
As They flourish overnight
Picture all those roots crammed into a ballooning charcoal bucket
and then pretend to persuade me to give it up
as a bad job that never was never worth doing
Only instead to sidle off over the broken biscuit brown grass
Wing it on one engine back to base camp
smile back knowingly at some all weather gnomes
who count us out and count us back like orphans
up to their necks in sump oil wild lolling
wisely on a riddled crimson fence post
entangled in a spider’s knitting
briskly inside a pike eats the crackling radio,
Baltic salmon bask in the fridge, all lost at sea suffering
opiate withdrawal sweats we twitch & cringe
Then I see you sliding slippery eel wise, sending us a sign from beyond,
which when it is decoded reads
‘we’re not ready for you yet. Pal’
~
Till all the seas run dry, my nose.
Till all the seas run dry
Abdabs scream blue murder
Till all the seas run dry with blood
When all the seas run dry…
Enforced radio silence over wrought after a hard night’s day
Churning down the dairy with hairy Mary
wary of her sudden subtle mood swings—
the purpose of this mission: moan
~
Big match called off by bye bye blackbirds
wretched car phones yelp outside
world made worse by cheap shite airlines,
five hoppity hops to nirvana time
& limp back on yer tod,
sip true levelling vodka juice ,
no sleep till dawn for tribal drones
passing over after bringing down
patchwork dirigibles on burnt out homes
Ratty sits now sucking an olive
Now spilling a Martini dry
shaken but unstirred by those loud bangs
No hard feelings where there aint none in
Yesterday the pike with jam on
Today the frozen salmon cordon
Encouraging the Privet hedge to part red waters
Will you pass milk & honey
The silken money
To mellow my chlorinated slaughter
For if you not for who
Mirror under water cracks
Call grimalkin get hope back
I am hearing you
In conversation
Singing through the nosegay of fucked up floribundal
Only in conversation mind you
~
I run things over in my head occasionally
Deliberately or by accident
Take the right option
At the top of the stairwell
For an example of this
Sallow mango tigers burn
Flagrant tongues lick upwards
Melting toy balloons drop fire
Withered moulded plastic chairs
Empty overnight commode
Circus macabre summer fayre
Shriek to no avail it seems from here
~
Did you not capture the moment just now—
Especially in that droll incursive October Wind
As malfeasant tides surged fast & loose
Now time trudges wetter softer
Sandshoe shuffle shod in sloppy sludge—
snide red caps doffed hide furtive grins
Faces crescent—shaped venally daft
Trying to zone in, get a grip, any grip,
be rid of this, this, this…
profane, pernicious accidie. Look out
Dai the Morf & Wily Dan confer
to hatch a slick masterplan midstream
to swamp the market in eiderdown
or farm mink in Chipping Norton Town
or timewatch daily brexit as life goes on
like a walk in the baked potato park
—so many murders these day you dont
know where to not step first
~
Each one a new one on closer inspection
A different case of upstairs
Did I say no chess today I may fret—
Well so what if not
Put a derringer to my head
And just keep missing
Man did I live to regret it
First time Crispin smiled upon
His golden demoiselle, an inhabitant,
She signed, of a country of the capuchins,
So delicately blushed, so humbly eyed,
Attentive to a coronal of things
Secret and most paticular. Second, upon
A ruddy counterpart, a maid
Most sisterly to the first, not yet awake
Excepting to the pad of motherly footsteps, but
Marvelling sometimes in round shaken sleep.
Then third, a braid still dun flaxen in the night,
A creeper under mellow jaundiced leaves. And fourth,
Mere blusteriness that gewgaws jollified,
All din and gobbleygook, blasphemously pinkened.
Gonna hit frilly five today they say
Sky seems the limit round here no doubt
Off Asylum Avenue when smoke churns
Chelsea Moll makes sticky buns shine
No matter what the weather does
Use up the wrinkled grapes on the quiet
Man did I live to regret it
Saying good things about people you can’t smell sounds daft
Almost as if you made it up: derisive
Crossed out, obliterated truths
Blown up, a put up job, hiding some
malign agenda under scarlet pimples
The words escape me so I stumble round playing blind man’s bluff,
Internal bear pits, persuasive, lure me out
October 1, 2018
Eat the Ditch
Luncheon:
one scotch egg
& one pack of
Ready Salted
Crisp Potatoes
Al Disco…
Dunnock patrol sweeps
up the lawn prior to snotty
entrance of the Queen of Shebang
Gormless positivity crowds threw some punters out
Embedded Jasper stones in troubled foreheads
—As if brecciated third eyes squint
Mineral deficiency remedy mercifully
Fizzes in blue silica
Uncle of the bride makes wind of it
A virtuous thermal is suchly born
Magic lurks in fits and starts you see
Fragile as dovecote earrings percieved by
Pageboys scatter ricicles on tympani thrums
Jerry built his house for doom and duplicity
Here loud mother superior stalks our bogus moves
Here also Stock Doves henpeck petrified garden gnome ads
but then it is Wednesday
after all is said: undone your fly
~
blue murder is an optional eXtra
vaguer notions involve plenty steps
mississippi mud pies promise
sanguinity & toast ungainly
underwater table tennis
constitutes just one ding that springs to mind
also: must mend t h a ts l o w puncture
~
synchronized slumming it merely
keeps the blighters off the streets
after a feed of pilates & fries
giant fleas and mice of the Caribbean
Prance in light elastic pumps & daisies
or bristle a frisson with shaven ravens
tipping away at venality between long wet slogs
through warm soft mulchy tissue
then we all fall round gurgling
gambolling precociously jammed with
lamb’s toothy daughter—nun other thanks
Caroline of Brunswick
Who brazen breaks into a piggy bank
& scoffs the Hottentot of it
~
Moanwhile…
Up shat creak without a Piddle
Wherein which we whet the wall
A chemical imbalance
In the Fred Astaire’s of men
My Lord is a ram jam toerag
Supinating pimply puss pot
Leaving droppings on the pantry floor
September 20, 2018
Cant regard
Clean and dry, Romper suited, booted in cheapo,
garish green Primark slippers,
I kiss the hogs,
mount the trusty chair
&
roll out to face the world of sticks and stones
that break your bones
and slick weasel words
that pay us scant regard
Grimbeau 