Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: Hunger

Eggman

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Didn’t John Lennon

get shot round now?

December…

Feels just about right.

Nineteen eighty what?

Thirty five years ago,

or so,

Swansea,

late slate

afternoon,

around about four.

Got up and switched on the box.

Programme interrupted.

Tchaikovsky piano

concerto repeating, scratched,

the 3rd or 4th.

Man, that was bleak.

Live in one room save on heat.

Never happy, never happy.

Self, self, self…

I’m

Waiting for my lunch

I’m

Waiting for my lunch

Went in the kitchen

At twelve of five

Marinade the fish

Chopped up the chives

Like Lilian Gish

I’m

Waiting for my lunch

Move it on!

About Oktober Snow

Cooked thick smoked bacon

and garlic mushrooms

on a rusted griddle

with just the one scallion,

(the others have prior

set engagements with capered salmon),

it was taken dry but tasty,

(a dollop of crème fresh perhaps?)

Although it must be said,

when crunched and mouthed

it oozed out buttered garlic wonders

~

After this bombshell of succulent luxus

I callously shaved

and swept up the detritus

on the soiled titanium floor.

Some Rugby came on,

then the sun came out.

A crow happened in

and we talked at length

about Oktober Snow

Chatwork

Coffee rashers scraps

skidmark sunshine larks startle

descending Fuji

seasickness overwhelmed me

entered Turin shrouded grey

pollution made me husky

Yeti uttered clumsily

‘Attitude sickness, Nietzsche?’

*

I smiled like a mad trappist

Remembering who I was

*

Mass aerologic

Agent puella beehive

Kind as lost kind sculptures

Waving sad eyed drooped

Medicated breasts point

Easy on the shore: tortured

As an impossible embrace

Your face is what it is.

Eavesdroppings

Untitled

capitalism

twenty four seven racket

rancorous fledglings