Fuggy
Altogether now!
Laws were made
for the obedience of Fools,
and the guidance of Wiseguys.
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: History
March 28, 2014
Many Happy Returns
Adeline
slipped away
alone
with herself
together
she walked
into
the river
Forever
March 22, 2014
Anabasis
Four no rule,
no measure years,
just got back mid-morning:
soft landing,
natives just the same, not me;
too much time to think, you see,
so everything is good or bad up there.
Back with a head full of seaweed, razor
whale gore,
syphilis and carnage. Whodunit?
Ask the guy in the looking glass. He say:
Author of your own destruction
with a little help from your
acknowledgements.
Left is right.
Right is left.
No turning back
You know too much
March 14, 2014
That was not a Pipe
So, farewell Tony Benn,
wild eyed scion of socialist stuff,
that was not really a pipe,
it was surreal
like lobster telephones,
and soggy clocks.
My mate Terry always
mistook you for Dennis Skinner,
but you were thinner on top.
Anyway, he won’t make the same
Mistake again
I hope.
March 11, 2014
Hugh
Tried to think up some words
about Dad
and
got no further than the death event,
clearer now than ever,
calmer,
or so it seems.
Should feel more hurt,
of course,
wear a flag of woe.
Or black with good cause.
And Mean it.
Thirty fucking years ago.
Now we both have no teeth and bad feet,
I trumped you with the wheelchair:
No huffing there.
Losing hair as well, but not white yet.
Far from it.
Not like you at twenty-two.
I lay in the same corner as you now,
on a hospital bed.
Not dead, just resting.
February 27, 2014
Widdershins
This is it
Like a prairie
Far as you can see
One big
Bread Basket
Waiting to be cut down
Puzzles me sometimes
How they did it
In the old days
February 13, 2014
Anywherewithal
Demi-stool on Piddle, flushed out, so now bathe
Soily scaly paws. Smite it! By my gum,
perfumed ovoid amber tablet glued to basin shock.
Rubbed it long nice & hard by flannel for
blotch and crud scrub of digit, knuckle and palm.
Knuckle and nickel? Puckle the pickle of muckle,
Sterling winkles, no bawbees. Groat Scottie!
No wonga, not none. Yaboo-sucks states slimy,
Snide curling chippy poundwinker toffboy.
December 17, 2013
New Dark Age
Sleep vermillion deep on tilted bed,
blood seeped lush ooze
downslope heading headwards
deflating maculate instep and arch,
ankle, heel, and calf.
Flooded dreams of Fen, Ely, Hereward the Wake.
Airborne screech, bare bummed cackling grimalkin:
surfeit of posset. Traitors lurk amongst
liturgy and reeded, boggy hollow.
The Wash will out the Crown.
December 3, 2013
Little Woods
Trying too hard; put simply,
can’t decide where to start.
As you mean to go on?
As good as
anywhere.
So here we
are again.
The square one.
A saying that comes from
Radio
so that the
listener
could follow on a grid
in the Radio Times.
But where was the square one?
The middle, the corners,
In the net?
October 5, 2013
Garrison
Memory of joy
Forever
Is strangely true
We squint to see it
In the mind’s eye
It is there
Blurred, muffled,
Gore-Tex blue
Grimbeau 