Thurd
Because the Night
belongs
to Hoover
because
the Night
belongs
to
Hooves
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Art
October 6, 2014
Incubus Nouveau
Splurge urge, soggy gourd
Mulch and pulp, squash
Tomato, windy beans shrivel,
Drenched, trembling, gusts
Thus love came stealing
In sable, lunar night.
July 3, 2014
A Bird: tender & anxious
Soft…
What light
Through yonder
Window breaks?
Ssssh!
Merely
A wayward
Cormorant
Called Deirdre
Or so I heard
November 29, 2013
Scribbling
Gerunding…
Trembling: after shocked by writing this thing.
Abreacting plaything: underestimating the
Troubling power of saying your meaning.
Unnerving…
November 23, 2013
Epic
Otiose prose
Gets up my nose
October 6, 2013
Bards & Beards
A meticulous poet is Motion
Looked deeply at cheap suntan lotion
He rubbed it all in
O’erlooking his chin
Now shaving is fraught with emotion
September 23, 2013
Musk
Clouds slumber
Hum hark hear
Ammonium
Salt miners
Maenads mummies
Westerly eyries launch
chaff over miserly ears
Turning on Twisted
hissing egos chide arid
bad armies renting earth
Hands over plover’s eggs
Soft petals release indigo
nerve gas empty tents
echo rueful neutral
astral laments
September 12, 2013
Moonlight Dump
Let’s go to the loo
Let’s jump in the bog
Devastate the places
Where the putrid vermin hog
Let’s flush them out tonight dear
It’s silly not to try
Rid the world of scumbags
Without a reason why.
September 11, 2013
You what mate?
Stagefrit,
dumbstruck,
ashen,
The face stared down
on the bated mob.
Nothing would come out:
children exploded, men fought, women wept,
but nothing came out.
Aides de camps and unknown others, bent under
unseen chopper blades, scurried.
Still nothing came.
In the lower right hand corner of the screen,
a purple faced, ill-kempt, bulbous signer,
feminine, signed frantically. The mob paused.
What’s she saying? What’s she saying?
Nothing silly, it’s a pantomime!
Yes, but what’s she signing?
Watch my lips, watch my lips.
Ah, thank heavens!
The collective sighed knowing
The Face only lied when its lips were moving.
July 22, 2013
Icarus
All the trees
are brown
and the
carpet is grey.
I went
for
a splash
on a summer’s day…
Grimbeau 