Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: Delerium

brutal huge on laudanum and eggplant

 

 

 

Foot zing alarming after redress—

stillborn labour long and arduous;
earthquakes grumble

sullen tallow poesy,
very nice though it seems,

a can of worms called

cryogenic masochism. the rood that came unglued. nothing hinged springs easy.
Where is it to go?
Forlorn in no faced media; a crowd of ones and zeros swaps ;
O not to live like that if I make it through this eternal night;

Snoopdogs of a thousand faces;

lit from underneath by lime
twixt screens disposed to wander

looking for a break
a let up in the bombardment reveals
a pile of rubble heaped

beside a cranky trebuchet
lightly dusted with talcum powder
redolent in no way of instant mash

Our Johanna

Llamas debasement grotesque apartment
Crime of defacement breaking up discouragement
Wind weathered true blue purchasing new health food
Dead geraniums ooze oilslick crude
Drongo emerges in bits
Feverishly exiting crumpled
recidivist’s drunken carcass
black tank prison stint
Blackness thick as creasote lint
Inky pinky molasses
Sado the Gaoler steals a parting kiss
Through cracked thin pursed lips
Chokes on wreaking Treacle
spattered malodorous pelt
Obstinate bowels make last
Opiated loony stand declare:
Get scrubbling hobo: self, dwelling, pots & pans
Get fed up hobo, get water, learn about money
Sort it out this next week, clear headed, full of hope
Those just past were the
annihilate days of cynical grumbles
Everyone left is old or sick
Learn to play misty again
Sport Roberta Flack jacket
Long hot shower ahead shop


So you think you can
get away with writing bling?
Get scrubbling Bobo
If you wannabe a Dylano
Learn how not to sing
Like Perry Como

Seeing and being seen, thought Our Johanna, avoiding the mirror the nervy curtain call. October slumped and flu jabbed lies twitching on the sofa, lookin’ for a gofer, time-Honoured joker, flaky, shaky feeble hand…
Mary-Anne—whatever happened to Mary-Anne?
Got carried off in a big white van,
maimed her old man
half a gallon, rustic jam
Bubbling away in a frying pan
Clung to his hair like a Rubberband

…Will Quince fulfilled his fruity pastoral duties
sound bitten realists winced when they misheard…
Put in a shift—3 hours liquid refreshment

Shark Infested Mustard

Trashed it, simpering, dithering, dark editor, slow whimsy dulls me, narcolepsy whelms, laps, gurgles…here we go again, malingering without intent to cause affray

A new idiot is born, not a repeat of yesterday’s, that comes in the night. Same exasperating incidental music, mind you, synthesizer meets viola in a troika

Turtle doves, water voles, and killer bees endangered by turn of agent orange by popular demand, outbreak of Pigg’s Chorea

Let soft dictators sleep easy in their pearly cots, safe in the knowledge yours is an open and shut cask of amontillado

Enter purer freer realms without redress to newer cleaner clothes forgetting not to paint your toes, blow your nose, or stone the crows

This is not fair

woman-holding-mirror-on-grass-reflection

 

On my way here,

Demi-lucid

 

Supine in

 

a white

wheelie

bin,

guess what?

 

What?

got some treasure

fallen it was

like a woman

 

 

 

loose, heavy,

easy display:

golden showers!

 

Reef

obtuse lanquid splashes

lit dense wet grass,

teasing out

emerald,

silver crystal

ephemeral sprites:

 

like

trinkets, but too

quick, robust,

capricious to pocket,

to show off

after

 

to softer, bolder presences…

 

Noon’s Guys gathered round,

casting shorter shadows,

Origin – a higher calling:

sotto voce potentates,

you know the sort,

plotting spring offensives

left me none the wiser

 

in fact

Sort of stiff,

jabs in brachia,

pains more swamped than killed.

 

Still a worry thought

cause for concern

thence diversion.

 

Two, no three, doughnuts.

Whoosh! Guess what?

It had gone.

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