Sunday Papers
Middle-aged callow chants and chick pea stew.
Lukewarm Ointment smoothed in careworn lost eyes.
Hind-sighters rushing after scornful truth.
Saps still raking moon under the morning
Maple syrup
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: writing
July 21, 2013
Hot Cocoa Car Reverie
The cosmic chime of sub-atomic car clock
Inspired (drove) Samantha to yellow tears.
Fred Carnage clutched boiling plastic cocoa,
felt for her a lot: Why was that then ouch?
Bingo! It was Bloody Yule of course.
Her in fatigues sporting a bazooka,
he recalled, sipping with care…
The logo of Mothercare, in mist subsumed.
They shared the memory of a teenage pregnancy
A rollicking remembrance of a rampant ride for Fred.
The nightmare of an unmarked hospital grave for Sam.
July 20, 2013
September 2011
Pull the curtains and reveal that wow sky.
Thin cloud sculpts a convalescent moon:
wondrous shivering sad silver presence.
The clouds permit this harbour of head space
Provoking basks to chill before dumb dawn.
Then watch through the fan window,
gaze past the submarine aerials and chimneys
and glimpse a fulsome face on Kerry’s mad coast.
Promenade across sad Bantry and stark Beara,
then southward to Baltimore and the big seas.
When bright dead and other sleepers cop this
they abandon calm: and bark wild with wonder.
July 12, 2013
Trout Bridge Test
Epic phone call underway
Mutti’s birthday
Nineteen forty three was it?
Wind sprinkles hose droplets:
Sprinkler.
Faux summer afternoon:
Shower how it’s done.
Easy racial stereotypes
Sturmers
Drangers
Blowers
Errors
Spiv summershadowspots:
Forget me pink wotsits
How reminiscent of one
Who threw the bathwater
Out with the baby bio.
July 12, 2013
Quota
The Yellow Fish:
Finally ate,
heavily poached,
taken with fennel,
some soggy spinach
(the dregs of the day before yesterday’s green salad, the flies hate it),
a slice of linseed and creosote loaf,
found timidly lurking in the gripes of the breadbin
(thin slices of linseed).
No nausea is welcome, as always.
July 11, 2013
Sick Bay
Protozoans and zoans; krypton tripped on
A fat, docile cat.
Splat!
A commotion ensued:
fur, screech, ouch, run…
boxed in
in the garden
permanently dormant.
Cist! My arse
Tells a tale
Of
Punishment.
I am arrived at the mausoleum.
Linoleum cool marbled purple floor
Helpfully reflecting afternoon sun.
A resurrected garden through the door
Seems closer as shadow lengthens distance.
No matter; we continue our approach.
Outside is, as always, not what it seemed,
As usual old habits and patterns
Recur: lassitude and wreckfullness soon
Assume the crown: spongeful someday slatterns
Vying for positions of insignificance
Beneath a tree, by the spuds and garden fence.
July 11, 2013
Spillage
So, spill coffee over oneself and kitchen.
Result: soft summer incandescent
Rage! Against a covering of lichen
Sludge, puddle,, brute granulated isthmus
And slipper. Tears of hopelessness well up
And the day is defined as sloth and neglect
Dream of cream cakes, water skis and beaches.
Humanism really ought to practise
What it preaches.
July 11, 2013
Hunter Gatherer
Eat the yellow fish!
Scavenge chicken carcase!
Pork pie and scotch egg
Garden leaves and spinach
Anchovies and hard boiled eggs
Eat the yellow fish!
Scavenge chicken carcase!
July 8, 2013
Posture
Open
Doors and windows
Open
Mind, legs, and heart
Open
Shoulders
Up
Sky eyes
Floodgates
Tins
All hours
July 8, 2013
Peptic Ulster
My father ,‘Aitch’, as I called him
for nuisance value, came from Ulster.
(Tyrone to be preciser. Dungannon
to be preciser still). Growing up, as you do,
it was clear the Ulster had troubles.
My father, who, as is stated above,
came from Ulster,
Tyrone to be preciser,
Dungannon to be preciser still.
Suffered from an Ulcer.
‘We have all got our crosses to bear.’
He told me on occasion.
Later it was strange to discover that an Ulster Fry
is very similar to a Full English
except with farls and other stuff.
Grimbeau 