Tiffin
The Holy Hour
Plenary indulgences
Carrot cake seconds
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Arts
March 10, 2015
Major to minor…
A jingle in the dingle,
a dongle in the shrub,
a riddle on a fiddle,
the median of middle.
Stepping out in running blues,
shouting ‘Still here, your twerps and twonks!’
who wished me gone for yonks.
Net curtain snideys,
hanging out dry washing
on crooked lines
just to block out the sun.
March 9, 2015
Muesli Bowl Peregination #6
Gruel!
Trucks splayed on winceyette
Paperbacked up by thumbsail rigging.
Thieved, not in the slightest borrowed
Robbed, not pure good lend-lease film fan
Ships of Liberty cargoing
Senile bananas to far flung
Gerontocracies
These dodgems
Run by ruffians with friends
In low places: naked ventriloquists
Licking smarmphones of pox.
Rant!
Bang the wall against your head
Laughing warm inside when you find
It is only made of tapioca.
March 9, 2015
Troy Tempest
Covetous:
It is my stingray!
The screams stopped all shopping in earshot.
Mine (assertive).
Mine (plaintive, filling up, wait for it)
…Mine (balling, stamping, screaming).
Uproar.
The law is present, masculine,
portentous and plump.
A strident protest, indeed.
Young fellow, m’lad!
Trespassers will be prosecuted
Whether they like it or not.
Have a pear drop.
March 9, 2015
The Lie of the Land
Half man: half musket
Was not was
Noisome
Stroke me branches crest the lawn,
Attracting glances beside
the splendiferous alpine experience.
A dog cocks its leg on the ugly plastic herb cover.
The tiger glows under the daffodil.
Aphids pester gannets
Thrashing in mild dark.
Slow is what it is.
The cream is questionable,
but I have no fear
cautiously prizing the lid
finding caramel and semen.
The red rubber band
on the pastry
turned blue in the freezer.
I leave the door open
to help it find room temperature.
March 7, 2015
Old Bar Stewards
Music soothes the savage breast.
Death Metal springs to mind.
Put on your rusty chain mail vest.
Go find an axe to grind.
Roaring to the chemist
On your zimmer frame
The traffic cops then did you
For pissing in a drain
Fined or sent to prison
Condemned to spend your time
Moaning at the bus stop
It never leaves on time.
March 7, 2015
Treasonable Doubt
Here comes the sun to have a laugh,
a snigger, a check it out, a gloat at
little lives playing themselves out in safe,
unhappy scripts:
polishing, dusting, painting crypts.
Rolling tiffs, thinking cliffs, wind blowing quiffs,
In skipper’s beards, fucking weird.
And I sit in judgement. How fucking weird is that?
March 7, 2015
Mucking Out
When I take the air and roam
the tombstones and monuments
the iron door clicks ajar –
the cycle is complete.
Only now the air is sound
is it safe to do the rounds.
When I check the last twitch,
the most challenging flitch,
the one at the top
of the heap grips the grill.
A zither plays loud mad brash.
I pull my sword and euthanize him.
Then & only then the loading can commence…
March 7, 2015
Dustbathing
Cobwebs!
Touch it, feel it recoil
Membranous, nerved
Gathered in:
Repulsed
by
Gubbings
March 6, 2015
Gatecrasher
Jupiter turned
Up uninvited yesterday
Orrery trouble
Grimbeau 