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
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Arts
October 6, 2013
Quelle Fromage
Paperboy in a shower
Did not take too long
Turning to Papier Mache
October 5, 2013
POV
Had a jar with Dora Maar
thought
She’s not like how she’s painted
A two-faced bitch’s a trifle rich
Still,
Her reputation’s tainted
October 5, 2013
Garrison
Memory of joy
Forever
Is strangely true
We squint to see it
In the mind’s eye
It is there
Blurred, muffled,
Gore-Tex blue
October 3, 2013
Snivelling Little Creep
Waiting on pork sausage
We were forced to skelt
willy-nilly
for mute sanctuary from
tampons confounded take on fern hill.
Tea was derationed today in fifty two.
Five eggs variously
boiled Mohr’s scale by Nanny Charperson.
Is it safe?
Can we come out?
Chai or Cha, your High Chairness?
We emerge and return
Waiting for pork sausage
Green and dying in our chains
Ding-a-Ling.
October 2, 2013
Shieldings
Coming up for Noon:
Chicken & fish purchased by Poll.
No knobby-curse, no hobby-horse…
ham & eggs ate listening as…
big con speaks: poor as piss, full of shit.
After this, fearful prospects – complex phantom
horrors hidden behind the gun-ho noises
of the head boy’s gobhead, a quake
of vile thoughts sent me, suddenly weary,
back to the warmth of my duvet.
For better, Heaney’s Beowulf bolstered my warm bed and stark head
until half three: silent, dozing, sleeping,
perhaps dreaming,
phone calls were ignored. Then up to find the house empty and open,
closed and locked the cold back door.
September 22, 2013
Clowns
At the jukebox
With a timid demeanour
Behind purple drapes
They, with needles and pins,
Listen to Sontag
September 22, 2013
Jitterbugs
On the blue rock
Of a lapus lazuli
Under western skies
We, our feet caked with soot,
Dance like idiots
September 22, 2013
Harlequin
here
is a stillborn,
grey still, day:
a
day to
get lost on the wing.
shivering
in
cold sog:
awaiting
a
long hot shower:
four hours
dreaming
steaming
September 22, 2013
Whistles
Glisten
Sheer sparkling wit,
wild infant crazy hopes,
whose voices, too true, call to us all
like spooks
Grimbeau 