Slice up blood orange
groovy silver drainer top
provides an awkward abattoir
sacrificial altar piece
makeshift place to
unwield rustic
ludic rusty knife
to serrate
to appease desire
jag mutilate Seville
in garish tattered gumshield
quartered segments
skin & pith intact
snaffled up cutish juice flesh
tense borne by bent paw
over chasmic chasm sinkwell
The surefoot chariot passes over
Imperious, regal, sublime
galumphing Phoebe sated
licks syrupy lips, sighs & leaves
above vile understuffs
low hanging myrtle truths once banished by white decree come home to roost — is there still honey for tea, Rupert? Ask bumblebees of floating greybore voters.
‘We’d hoped they’d all perished in the recent cold snap. old chap.’
Still a few stiffs left out in busted shelters, wheelie bins or found sat bolt upright dead on bent up knees by watching doggers
noxious nectar dribbling from well spiced cardboard coffin ship, apparently a Cambridge boffin, one of them a pal of Stephen Hawking but the wrong denomination for the Queen of the Bees Knees
At just gone
Midday
Wheeze print pink money
Give it to them petal poor
Simple acts still born of mindfulness
go at least some way to fake redress
incorporated interests
Half-twelve is quite another matter
vital appointment — two minute hate
Soar
friends and family (that’s those of you who remember who you are) understand reasons prevent one from saying that much just in case word gets used for evil instead of good out
act your shoe size not your age in post imperialist measures playing sundials in the garden with your appendages made erect by shuttlecock & battledore found in last year’s box
Ambridge anal Ithaka ate my hamster, hiccuped, endured a bilious attack and became an ecstasy of mumbles, drifting like the finest snow on the frozen inland seas, stargazy mackerel make the best of it
we dreamt of pasties with a light brown crust running through the meadow pursued by litigants with fine mesh nets & insurmountable debts and nothing much to brandish to Scythia
Park it up with pride
Twenty one years old
worship in the rain
Four door maroon saloon
All grown up and left now
found wheels of their own
so we bought an off road monster
should they have a breakdown
get lost in the puerile wood
caught out by scurril showers
forget whose ship went out…
time freezes over
come the feral summit
Churchill’s bitter fly returns
toxic legwarmers it was
the ruskies what did it
—how did it happen here?
Hesta gives out big time—
one too many mourning
in the hearth of hearths
Called up chaos for clarity’s sake—
somewhat the weirder when told
not much will come of it
So let bygones hug gravestones & move on to
plough up holy cuckoo land discretely
Blunder thusly into war
enshroud bon motes in cordite veils
shooing gadflies lies inert your frail old bones
Til happenstance unchained delights
in sweet spring waft— off molten espadrilles…
Cynical salads disgraced dank scornful yawn:
Cleo departs come break of dawn
Books burn forever truly
Yours,
Sincerely Santa Ranter Claus
every morning while I’m
jumping up and down
I scream out names of
those I wish good luck to.
do any of them happen to live with me,
in the same flat, house, bijou hovel
the same shanty town,
sewer, shop doorway, aqueduct,
inflammable dirigible, barbed wire mosspot,
slice they cucumber, lick they icicles…?
Or is it someone who aint got up,
left their shit bang smack in your way,
left the bog seat up, snores like a drain in the gutter,
had their cake & ate it intravenously,
talks endless pompous psychobabble…
No?
How very surprising.
time for press-Ups & A
Jog to old Sarky-Poohs for pot noodle, aphrodisiac,
and jellied eels on blancmange before a
long day at the orifice counting ducks…
levitate
saw her hard at it
hard at it now
like a pumpkin
up a frog or ferrets on a caterpillar–
you get what i mean? being deliberately guarded till epiphany mad sun breaks out —
just a few Nyankan huts left only croissant Ivy remains
Hard at it puffing
Much like a frog
Up a pumpkin
Posthumously
©Grimbeau
starts up in minor malingers idly with intent gives way to bullshit Shipton pulls it off again makes good angry afternoon pink blossoms made visible spittoons bite the dust discover plastic bags under wild forsythia where has the goldfish gone answers to the name of Justine gentler than a man should you give a damn...
eye red
eye dread
eye wander
Grimbeau 