Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: writing
January 31, 2017
TwAt
WhaT is tHis?
January 30, 2017
Chronic Ills #1
The funeral seems to have gone well; from which
I imagine that he has been buried, the
family did not kill each other, her
mother did not walk around with her
knickers round her ankles, and nobody
died of tedium during the older
brother’s peroration.
However, I may well be wrong.
We are only renters here, because if we sell
we need somewhere to live.
I am, for some reason
unplumbable, drawn to the
Robert Donat’s political speech in
The Thirty-Nine Steps; something to do with
wearing a pair of purloined
handcuffs and having a piss. Indeed when
shackled together, he and
Madeleine Carol must have been
bursting for a pee: mutual micturition in
1930’s cinema anyone?
Who’s Gone for a Piss!
January 29, 2017
Golgotha Blues
Is it you
upending the beginning?
Yes
And – by the way –
How’s your head?
Dead
dirt dust
fine talc
How’s mine—
is she there?
Is she
the quiet one
in the corner pulling
on a woodbine
stogie?
Yes.
Smoking woodies bare boobed,
hairy chest stark summer sun,
short sleeved bri-nylon pastel
shirt open brashly to the waist,
walks staccato on buggered feet,
thinking god knows nor cares what.
Buddha-like inscrutable archetype.
Head full up cranky wonky dreams
…
Leaf’s thoughts in the
sunken garden late
good friday afternoon, as he
with pre-stressed concrete-
like neck & shoulders; tired eyes
bloodshot from catch-up daytime
sleep from a bad night remembered
that kept her up all night; killed the
dead time with gimmicky schlock
horror film at three, copious lurid
cartoon blood oozing from every pixel,
aware of skull cap thinning
wildly, itchy unkempt beard,
a wretched sight altogether to behold.
So, Leaf sat facing the late low sun,
toyed with jet trails and midges
crowding the sky, teatime birds
come and go, stopping to perch for
a last warm on the naked rowan,
and head off, out of the cold, indoors
to manic evening nests, Leaf too went
back indoors because it was still there.
Mason Wells survives his third bombing; random business this life. Populations swarming here there and everywhere. Radical fluctuation, rapid shifts in direction, some weird algorithm, brown patches on cows…get the washing in!
Time bumbles lopsidedly
Westward murkrays entomb shade
six-forty Pull the blinds close to home
Call it a day…Day! Ninety eight not in;
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
is
born in 1918
& still lives
Today in
2016
Beat that!
January 28, 2017
Badgers Cum Home to Roost
English pastorale: Beware! Trespassers will be Indoctrinated
January 27, 2017
Trade Winds Blow Off
gust impudent sleep;
Scantily clad warily
rest still just gone dawn;
special chumley warmers
consummate love over
chlorinated chicken soup…
Only time will tell of course
Proof of pudding found
In Venezuela…
(Loud cheers and tobacco spits)
New deal struck post EGGPLASM
(35 squid a month saved)
‘Today the Gas Board—
Tomorrow the World!’
Did not dream (at all?)
on grassy uplands,
snug summer pastures,
capricious morning glory…
Domesticated God
Portrait (of the) Artist (as
a) Vacuum Cleaner
Leaves messiah knackered out
Major events thus postpones
Only minor miracles
Tenable today—
writing guff, combing hair (singular),
Powdering my knees, reading these poems:
High on Rust (pun on Night Ours?)
Made up by Ray Webber;
blurb includes the usual
posthumous suspects:
Hindley, Brady, Ferlinghetti,
Ashbery, and O’Hara plus
beasts EZ & TS—
Critique suppose if the spirit moves
or more pressingly: the bowel
Gas Board-
apply The Art of the Scam
in its Original Jerkish
Horace, Horace wherefore art
thou if not here?
Fancy a smoke & a fag
Whooo o o sH!
Sudden Sou’Wester flusters galley
Oil lamps dervish dancing wildly
Cold pork clunks grace offshore hulks
Red jelly allover waffler…
Splo Ooos h a H aha!
Scalding hot boiling pot
Fair stood the wind for
Hispaniola
…
Sinister unidexters tweak
Spin ludicrous yarns
A Bernie* for Buck House
Queenie gets to stay
& as for the rest—
Make ‘em an offer
dat day cant refuse*
*One million pounds sterling (Bernie Ecclestone size bung*)
*Sweeteners, inducements, gift-horses
*Trash
January 26, 2017
Daylight Robbery
Bull rushes (into)
China shop (unseen)
Grabs
(Nay snatches)
Family silver,
Bric-a-Brac
Old Moor’s Almanac
Run of the mill artifacts–
Porcelain zebra, farm animals et al–
Inattention to detail
cloven cumbersome
Grasp…
Eberneezered good
furl & fog…meretricious
blurred apparitions fail to
thrive:
get that- smiling minx
emerges bonnily on rye
one hundred per cent
un-divvied-up
~
Attenshun!
Smell of horsepiss fingers
evermore
evergreen
everlasting·
manifestly bodilicious
scrumptious glowing isotopes
radiate warmth & succour
mystified gobshites
gaze knowingly on blue cheese
nudity can’t be thrown off
like a uniform, y’know-
Lorenzetti Woman
Painted strawberry hangs up
on nuisance caller
lobster telephone exchange
January 26, 2017
Third Degree (Burn’s Nightcap)
More haggis, Angus? As if you've got no option stuck up f-f-freezing Cairn Gormless wee beastie prone timorous troglodyte Nurse Zing (frost-bitten) Tootsies icicles that is… f-f-fractious dreek dank dark clapped out anglepoise nods off... waiting room night malingers caresses cold dunk fingers puffy after early bath Showers grumble come mid-morning crumbling inky murk Happy News Flash Bang Wallop! Waiting for noxious sausage— Pork & Leek - What wondrous feasting! as intransigence gives way to coercion Jam-packed Sheiling Mall ghostly dead come day dissemble autonomous flicker shows Illumination & lethal English Custard Slices Down The Dog & Duck Twice a week Doffing bluebell caps
January 24, 2017
Persuasion
Look,
whether you like it or not,
you are much, much better now—
so
just get used to it, enjoy,
do your own thing, strut you stuff.
Either way
Nobody gives a shit these days.
They’re too busy being them.
So,
you are wary of doormats.
Just use the opaque windows.
Best learn to leap before you can run…
or have a dump, or get cleaned up:
simples minus curve balls
Slow release porridge regime,
open prison daily chores,
melt into a madding crowd,
stay utterly stum,
incognito ergo sum,
well, treely & rurally
hid from Herstory,
out of sight is out of mind,
smells malinger on,
taste of burnt okra,
lady fingers hits the deck
~
Hey kid! Let’s dissect some trees!!
It’s coming on lunchtime
Sing joy & peace songs
Naff Hallelujahs…
~
Di Maggio eats
Caravaggio’s fruit bowl
Still life after all these years
Oranges and lemons melt
Incognito ergo sum
Greater than small walk on parts
Phillip Seymour-Legwarmers
Vignettes, bit parts, cameos—
Now you see it &
Now you don’t…
January 23, 2017
Lollipop (Who loves ya Baby?)
Sucked away prodigously
since first light broke icy dark
Tried very hard to punt
A Third Humanism–
No one seems much interested
So I left dystopia
Had cosmetic surgery
Convalesced on Crimson Strand
Found this grain of sand
in elastic rubber dunes
–longshore tobacco drifter
just struck it lucky I guess
Right place: right time malarkey
It just ain’t cooking—too cold
Here in half-baked Alaska
All is about food & syntax
Craving precious indigo
Giotto grumbles
Pulverises Nigella seeds
Burnt brown coffee kills
Telly Savalas licked me
soppy sloppy seducer–
Who loves ya baby?
Grimbeau 