Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: cryptic slaughter

Home on Derange

 

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Bay mare breeder, electric ether, head crazed

by on goings, sore to touch, touchily.

Tetchy little englander brought down to size

Colour, gender of choice, within boundless

Law: The Right of Light.

Torches rally, burn the beast, cauterize the earth.

Escalation, destination desolation:

regard slow time; report the truth; received

communication distorts, parts words apart.

Depart!

Darwin’s social agents popped in for a peep,

Pick up old confetti, soaping soft,

the right boys to do a boy’s job. Inside

a cringe (a swallowed outburst still emits gas)

and a barbed stiletto of rebuke.

They and I are hamstrung by pace, them too

much, me too little. Who is piggy in the middle?

The I of the storm The individual…

The news is abroad, I wish it well on

its journey to ignorance, words are so cheap

They are Free

Pangst

 

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An hour fades

endeavour

slows to sluggish slog,

An idle creak,

And

Precious

little

celebration

Puke rebuke,

obscene repeat,

then retreat,

Tricornered

Here

music plays:

disjointed,

butchered,

an dispatched

Sad Moon Rising

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The day after the
day after wholesale slaughter

flyblown autumn gossamer
persists

stubborn as winter rowan 
becomes tonight

more trash to incinerate
sweet horse
chestnut 

We endure stale lavender

All the greens
become obscene

rude yellows stark
enchanted azure

No chance of heaven
at eleven.

As in the black night

a certificated

medic calls to say:

Life goes on without us

then just like glimpses

promptly disappears

 

Normal

Orestes kills

Clytemnestra

In Slumberland:

A mattress Ide.

Blue Mother’s Day feral. Woe ensues.

Laughbarrel!

Better the tranquillity of pulchritude.

Takes your mind of things.

Truth beauty. Beauty truth. That kinda thing.

Turn of the heel. Waft of sublime stardust.

Whiff it. Insuckle. Yellow ether self.

Full as life. Teeming. Oceanically.

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Rope a Dope

BLOG_nabokov

And that, so it was, till now.

The journal arises

on Whitsun Saturday after a prolonged

jojourn in the land of the tetrahedrons,

inspelled by inchohol (how are things in inchaholy?),

in the leantime a beggar become,

so injured the risk of recovery is

now  a threat, like church twice on Sundays,

or school

anyday

 

Bag a Bunnie!

pmtoyPx

Rabbits
scatter
helter-skelter.

Red risen sun,
Blue gun smoke
on an ill wind,

Sundays in Spring
Bag a Coney
for your honey.

Get old Tony
skin and gut it,
chop it,
jug it,
or,
quite simply,
let it stew,
like hate
and lentils.

 

SS Head

strange-old-jobs-12

 

The Gnat and Fly Dept

is a ruin.

Hens don’t lay

all his trees are dead.

Farmer Jaw they call you.

Chinless Wonder!

Hide it with your hand will you?

The wife said.

Point at the horizon

past the fields of death.

You go green, stifle pukes after the shot

when brain splats oakleaf lapel

batman dibs it off a bit quick

leads you to the limo and safe.

Bills, bills, bills…

Love the smog, says Chuck, give it a $500 bill

Even if it only handles Three-Fifty.

Dedication is not enough:

Starve, go mad, anything

but Christmas and the Queen.

Decent, Open violence:

Heaven.

No guns or knives;

smart weapons, suicide bombers

can have it all too themselves:

Totally Assured Destruction.

Watch them, video game Field Marshals

play it on the beach, with the grandkids, at Christmas,

and watch The Queen inside smart shades.dgVh9EL

Blades

16

 

Today

Choppers dominate the news:

one fell on a Glasgow pub,

the others on Lee Rigby,

a squaddie who might have been

going to or coming from a pint.

He was in London in day light,

the Glasgow chopper fell on Friday night

 

Daulis Defile

lanclag

Near One

Undone

You won

Old Son

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