Pearl grey day
Sullen basilisk eyed
horse army blanket nihilist
becalmed charcoal sloop
opaque ivory mother
pearl grey day
cryptic spyglasses
monochrome zilch
scattered dead pine needles
litter overgrown seed beds
grey atlantic wall
earl grey clay
You
amble lost in
nebulous rumination
two shakes of lamb’s tale
Yellow
Wow!
DaffoDownDillies
Boldened
Chinese
Communitarians
Flock
Livid
by
crooked shepherds
clandestine
Fleecings
See her swinging
Her stark agenda
Brenda the Bonzai
Smoothing lamb
Whistling avocado dips
through Aubergine lips
Punk pastel smoke grey light
Gives cover to vultures
Stuffing pitta pockets
Full to bursting
With faberge nosegays
Others grab shawls for
Obscene daughters
But Brenda
Agenda bender
Mate of Zenda
Stands firm
Gives no truck
Not a tuppenny fuck
To the down by luck
The money lender
Runs begging to Brenda
Busy day ahead waiting free grub from the Foodbank— real power gifts a high gluten loaf that nobody in ecstasy wants
Crap sleep; stuffy room; troubled mind— What will Monday bring? Waddling through Deep Water
picture blue crabs in my pants
Tinkerbell was rightly furious
Cursed her lucky star & turned over to seethe
‘We are sorry to hear
of your miserable existence
and insist you contact a higher authority—
Yours Faithfully, Walt’
Talk to Mickey Mouse himself,
Up close and personal
There might be something doing
Perhaps a letter, a formal request
To talk it over, chew the cud
About them good old days
Before animation came
Stole our childhood anarchy
Collectivised imagination
Personified Vietnam
Through GI Mogli’s Ordeals
In the Jungle Book
Apocalypse Now!
Was just a matter of time
After that pastiche, rehash
Computer generated
post-modest barbie doll trauma
Nine hundred light come Friday—
money in whose bank she wonders?
Hedgehog managers
Crunch numbers mulling over
perfect porridge while
Goldilocks sleeps one off
Going over what could not be
Stories of doomed Dianas
In their own intrusive ways
Weigh up Pros and cons
Disciplined Annie
Arian stock found
Auld hobbits hard to break
Brown suede shoe leather satchel
Wonder what was left inside…
Wheelie bins bob up & down
Three pm ritual ball gown
In their own neurotic ways
Second thoughts, naked potatoes
Embarrassed without their jackets
endure Freikorperkultur
deep fat friars
permit this interruption
to make you aware
keep you up to speed
time is running out
taking all hope & the yucca plant
an odd couple you’ll agree
one as mad as the other
in their own fusible ways…
The day turns
on
fifteen minutes
will he or will she not come?
I have unlocked the door,
fetched out the crap,
brought in the milk.
It is very windy and
the sky threatens rain.
Things that deter unnecessary travel.
Four minutes to eleven.
Looks like a no show.
Make alternative arrangements.
Change tack.
Map out a new course.
A new modus vivendi.
when he said to you
whomsoever you may be
feeling nothing much
staring into spaces
resembling going spare rooms
set aside for punishment &
broken suitcases
Day began in dark
at five with roll-ups
and reheated coffee
radio news of butcher birds,
seasonal badger culls,
the lighting of a candle
forgotten prayers
sea weather prophecies
~
The light of day found
me playing pinball
biding time for the right
moment to unload
before hard labour
breaking feet in smokey rooms
lurching haplessly
between ashtray and crucible
To thine
own self be
shrew, blue, new, yew, few,
crew, glue, true, Sioux, flu, two…
anything you fancy
Really
Georgie Gargoyle sneers
leers drools pours derision
raining scorn upon
the weak, sick, old, cold,
&
all the living and the dead
cruel salacious scabious
snooty pogrommer
Back again at just gone ten
after a power breakfast
with Mr Clay, Ms Self, and the Demi-urge.
A frozen garden, a propped
up green wheelbarrow glued
to an icy rotary clothes line.
Frost suspends decay of jungle beanplants.
What else did you see?
Or hear? Or taste? Or touch? Or smell?
Fields in collision, tectonic plates lying shattered,
or just another trad night down the Greeks.
I see.
So thought Inspector Spangle, flicking through
the photos from scenes of crime:
no time, no space, just action
invisible, eternal delight,
energy in a bun dance.
What could be less clear than that?
Yea, housing, phone calls, Victoria Derbyshire…
I know, I know, I know. Stop nagging me!
It’s all work in progress.
Grimbeau 