Erazed
Cool plus
the art of cool:
Isometrics
‘woman’s grudge is
women’s definition’
pink chink
on a chin,
a sliced face
to sew:
True.
The camera
is the woman.
It never lies.
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Arts
January 9, 2015
Port Said
In place of dreams:
Streams.
Steam Packet
Steams
Big white
SS Hooper
Smiles
Mallards dive South
In Autumn
Turin shrouded
hemp sack fog
vanished
Will there be Candles?
Yes or No –
Combustion
January 8, 2015
Publish and be Damned
The funny papers
Weep today
Fanatic manhunt
Underway.
January 7, 2015
Rue Morgue Avenue
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
January 7, 2015
Message to Roxanna
Up
for apparent reason
undisclosed.
Harangued
power firm larcenists
with deft wit.
Bathed in bags of lavender oats.
Too much, too much
insouciance.
Satraps gather
at the Gate of Gosh
grovelling for a living
December 23, 2014
Tickling
Sati’s factory plinks
sparse pink notes
primrosing purple pathos
like chemise driftwoods.
December 11, 2014
Flesh Trade
That’s that out of the way for another
year, thank god, anything good on? Repeats.
Surprise, surprise. It’s a wonderful life.
Gone with the wind. The great escape.
Born free two. Follow the yellow brick road
Out of Africa…
£80
The role of finance capital in the
Merchant of Venice
December 2, 2014
The Pitfalls of Autonomy
Tuned in, turned off, turned on, turned up, turned puce…
Mother Goose, Aladdin, and Buttons
glaring at me like thunder.
`Prey, what ails thou Panto-types?` I seasonalled.
`A flagrant breach of protocol, that’s what!’ said Goose, irate, pacing.
`Cinders is a tard! Whittington’s a dachshund! The ugly sisters are ants! Need I continue?` Buttons stormed with absurd pomp.
‘My lamp is empty.` Aladdin wailed.
`I do not see what it has to do with me.` I said with modesty and aplomb.
`Just typical,’ Goose tutted, `will no one take responsibility ?`
…
Luck to get out of their alive,
I tell you, slipped out
when the Bovril lady came,
via the sink, town drain,
and Alaskan tundra to here.
Thumbnail One:
`The Twiglet and Cheeseball.`
November 28, 2014
Snitch
Up at the crack of doom and so it pours,
acrid quicklime, gregarious sash window,
drone buzz, sable confetti, nasal toot,
sootfall, gasp, volume, mass. What folly, what
pulchritude, what bafflement. Life was a
giant veiny nose, a red herring, a
wanton flop. So be it. Que Sera, Sera.
Horace Day, Matt Busby, James `The Fact` Durante…
pock dugout, dabbed down and dusted copious
cloud of potassium permanganate,
spotlighted by Lazarus, light reveals
white head and lost tribe of Erin: Quilty’s Pals.
November 26, 2014
Celeste regressed…
Stop making scents,
tincture your sphincter with
perfidious salve,
snort pulverised juniper,
sweat quinine ampules…
another one soon
stifled in shallow,
lifeless cant.
Too late for love,
like the vestibule
catastrophe nook.
A broken swan
negotiating
burning boats,
safe in a synthesized,
furless chrysalis.
Grimbeau 