Food Bank
A tory most crass, loud, and pompous
Created a row and a rumpus
After saying the needy
Were lazy and greedy
They ate him with oodles of humus
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Food
October 6, 2013
Snack Attack
There was a bulimic called Shirley,
Who lived in a folly in Purley,
Crept down late one night
Without a hall light
And got mugged by
a large Curly Wurly
October 4, 2013
Nibbles
The Rev Nice-Grub paused life struck
shopping list of savoury dainties before her
incomplete: savoury quails eggs, spiced cheeses…
Holy music meandered ox-bowed
midlife muddy water curved solidly,
strong, steady laps undercut the bank
vile, grass clod bays and inlets for voles
cans and ducks. Captives get marooned
on a cut off clump, excised by wake and wind,
and wave forlornly: we wave back, hollow eyed.
Our off white hull stirs large laps as it hums past,
scary aftermath loosens more sods that collapse
under the webfoot gait of ducks and swans
and wellyboots of anglers and toddlers
leaving small gashed inlets for thin quick snakes.
…crudites, nice dips, potato chips, nuts.
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.
September 11, 2013
Bugsplat
Waiter!
Bugsplat the soup it’s toxic and orange.
Deft, nimble, fleet of foot, cunning as Ariel,
Waiter swoops and swats the soup.
Everyone is splattered and grumble.
Did you get it, did you get it?
Yes, they got it. Look at them leg it
For the turnstiles.
September 3, 2013
Troubadours
On an oil sheet that hummed of bog,
we watch for the tide to be right and
the fires on Spike Island to cease.
In the corner shop we scrounged bread and cheese
and were told the ‘the borstal boys had been busy again’.
So waiting for relief from the relief
of the Southferry road I sat under
the wide sky of Ringaskiddy exposed
to the gaze of passing motorists, uniforms
and other gawkers amusing a bitter scallion
My fellow penniless wanderer joined the free library
and returned with a copy of ‘Death of a Naturalist’,
which we took turns at reading aloud
to fill the time and that of other idlers.
At the same time a bomb stopped
a ticking clock in the North.
August 25, 2013
Signs of Life
Twenty two (and more) pigeon posts phase your
eyes.
Cold tea and chocolate Hobnobs of the night
Adorn the paper strewn workstation
Grab an eyesore shower and recommence
The stringent pursuit of sublimation:
Prospecting for diamonds in the Shite.
August 24, 2013
Carnage
Lunch (less) time;
fry big spuds,
heat up beans,
eat cold chicken,
drink green cider,
then withdraw,
hid upstairs,
day go dream,
play pinball…
football results in
Tea (less) time
so to nightfall
and beyond!
August 22, 2013
Sult
Boiled eggs & pills,
the day distils
sun syrup.
muggy bees
drip honey,
legumes swell
and burst,
we eat sweet
orange vine
love apples,
call a giant runner
Bolt,
lazing on a soapy afternoon…
August 2, 2013
Bloater
Smoke pause and coffee slug
Curtain sloped out window
Sucked out, outsuck drag.
Shit! Banged red exposed elbow.
Smokestained drapes: salmon peach,
Tucked comfortably in twixt
bizzy-lizzy and big green shiny pot
imagine it plonked on silver beach
the shadows lengthen, sunbathers are vexed
some move, some curl up cold, and some do not.
Little happens slow
Somebody knows.
Grimbeau 