pUrrsYmphOnus
whIrrR Did she gO?…
liKe that iNNer puFf ( goEs pufF=)
gO speaK to sHaron
WhEn one loseS a HaiRdreSeer
it Resembles varioUs liMb(s)
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: writing
June 8, 2016
hairDo (wOt anothER)
ISt a big wor
Ld oUt
There pros(U)ming sunShine
& forevever puttinG
You down
Day on day and year on year
AndFully so…
Bugger bognor(aegis)
PersoNally I prefeR
McCains Oven ChipS
June 7, 2016
You What!
lo ng
dis t a n c e
i nf o r m a t i O n….
giMMe
mem p h I s
t e n e ss ee
Just before the immediate
I paused
Had a second thought
Of what it was i
Was getting at
Fancy that
What a twat!
June 6, 2016
wiLLiam bloKe
summer sings notions
happen that I could write songs
of innocence vast
the age of fifty-seven
you cannot be serious
June 6, 2016
LiTeraTi
SerioUs wRiters
mOst(ly) dEad rich (or) hideous
giVe mE the WillieS
June 5, 2016
Cheryl
Stand back she’s Poet
Obligatory posture
Sprung & discovered
Too bloody intense
Eat two of you for breakfast
Reginald Arbroath-Smokey
June 5, 2016
Sphinx Gang
asPhalT
mEmori(es)
uGly
grinDer
Round eleven it burns down
The engines are turning,
churning up
dormant subterranean turtles,
laying flat kerbs for giant cars,
upheaving monitor eggs,
yellow men
coral them in sandpits,
soon they’ll be hatched out
by stray, broody ostriches
weary, careworn nomads,
whose ivory gonads bristle
in brutal
municipal sackcloth
bend to add
another egg to the pyramid
June 5, 2016
mAss
Big joB geTs me Up
coNgress on aNti-mA:tters
– wasH & blOw Dry
Back Abed fOr SoMething
uNderStood & mOre zEddds
(c’minG neXt sEconD…)
Fluffup bed & pUll bLinds toO.
SlEep NogO zonE
(aArgh, diDdums!)
6.51: coLd, cOld, colD –
uP the theRmOstaT tO 22c:
nEws, sNooze, cRuisE…uP theM woodY
stAirs to wasHhouse
(acc: a mUzak buGleR, cHip)
cOOkhouse sOunds siZZle,
sPlash, coLd wAter RunninG…niCE!
June 3, 2016
sumer if icumen in
She Sings Good…
Way downstream
in Calico
Waters rise when spring tides surge.
How very dare I
meet her now
And brave the dangerous voyage?
The grass lies down in
the valley below
Where milk cows numinous sit.
After hands work
scripts that never end
Dawn to dusk when
the cuckoo spits
June 3, 2016
amanuensis
As I was working
on my stare I saw a face
that was not there
it wasn’t there again today
I wish my stare would go away
Grimbeau 