Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: fever

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

Suck

Hoovering half-heartedly, 
Pre-stressed steel muscular, 
stilted, stiffish, torpid
The quality of mercy 
is half-strained & falsetto 
like a doomed balloonist going splat 
on worn grey leatherette footstools, 
a real deal phagocyte enters, 
snips claggy brackish waterfowl, 
flings a crane fly in the simmering beige broth, 
shall we sport passé cotton pullovers for effect, 
muss dwindling rancid quiffs and heinous eyebrows? 
Downcast slow rise condos 
sinuate minus stucco tracery. 
others live in icky sitcom sets
it is lifestyling for sure
just not as we know it

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.

Feather Bucket

378-934x

 

He’s still there waving & grinning

and wish as hard as I can it remains

Shorty – the ghoulish clown:

giant daisy in a crimson bowler,

mouth like a  lewd, purple inner tube.

Striped, hoola-hoop held pantaloons

hanging off Moorish orange braces

glowing lime green socks

in burnt brown boots.

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