Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: Forty Winks

Bladderwrack

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cruel futility of effort

melancholy’s phantom

time to take a break

~

Cue

zither music

tiny disappearing dots

Swiss cuckoo clocks

effluent societies

lone riders of Santé Fe

~

Old

bog road to Mandalay.

dreamt of coming back to life

back from Drood mundanity

deadlines lost horizons

rainy days and ghost

days squirm and wriggle

take the easier option

put in the long wee small hours

making books and pomes

~

The

chair is on a journey.

You are only taking a ride.

Is this place here new

Or queerly fictive dreaming?

Where’s the dialogue

The chitter-chatter

The nitter-natter

The ranter- banter

The toing and the froing.

The ebb and the flow?

~

I

see a sea bird

on a seaside shore

black gull or dodo

stone faced pelican

stood still synoptic

sinister profile

unblinking

binocular.

~

White

and blue grey clay.

the beach is low long light sand.

I am in the sea.

the water is warm lukewarm.

lapping idly on the shore.

makes me do discrete

clandestine wee-wees.

~

Feel

that inward glow.

Knowing you’re naughty.

Pissing in the bath.

Yellow water billows gush

swell churn flourishment

spreads out fades to fog

Plummeting Skywards

Barbirolli more swaggers than minces

over like D’Annunzio balling crazed

Avanti Italia!’

I am struck dumb by her swan neck

veins taut rope glisten.

Recoil in horror.

You bet I did.

Where’s Duran Duran?

Off busking with a Pink fucking Panther.

~

Sitting on a mushroom cloud

Buddy curls up neat

now waiting for a kiss.

Hurt goes on and on.

Walking like a sumo

quince in his nappy.

See I remember some bits.

~

The Dixie Whistlers vanished without Tracey,

I consoled her briefly and moved on

to Fenchurch Street to chuck some bricks around.

This is what I’m like.

Impossible: an impossible person.

Imp. Vip. Rip.

Rest in peace very important, impossible person.

Not moi! Not I?

~

Here lies big gob, gargling blocked drain

I slept in once in Newmarket…

Wake up, Norman!

Dropped off, must have…

Hurt still on the wireless.

Barnard is risen.