Grike Water
Some primitive chanting
Lightens my day
Considerably
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Journal
January 20, 2015
Your Emanence
Summoned by Ma Bell’s
voicemail.
The Judge is ill
till next Tuesday.
Keep pecker aloft, one counsels:
Assume gung-ho veneer;
Lacquer stiff upper quiff.
Tally-Ho
Outside is frozen angelica tundra.
Sun glints melt lucky buds. A hedge is
Razed.
How I love the smell of napalm of a morning…
January 19, 2015
Skinflicks
Whither the day, whither the morrow
Head full of pain, heart full of hollow
History stopped this morning at Ten
The Pinkos have got me corralled in the Pen
Biding my time, postponing the Craic
Till hell freezes over and heaven smells black
January 18, 2015
When Laestrygonians Attack!
Save that, Patroclus!
It’s
Midday plus
five.
Hazy Sunday afternoon.
Luncheon?
Fishcakes & ptarmigan droppings.
Not again,
Pen
What happened to the marmoset wellington?
The Ogres, I suppose.
Eyes bigger than their stomachs, those lads.
Gluttons with mutton.
Ask Old Shep.
January 18, 2015
Manoeuvres
Boiled eggs,
two soft boiled eggs,
four minutes sortie,
give or take a few spoonrides
for immersion and rescue –
tense moments, critical mass.
Two slices of toasted oatmeal brown:
four buttered diagonals, obtuse triangles,
bread hats for bald coolies in monsoon, torn
to shreds by bare hands for dipping soldiers
and to perform mopping up ops in egg, salt and pepper theatre.
January 18, 2015
True Rumours
The year is shaping,
form finds content in
mulch and gunge,
from primal gloop comes novelty
Everything assumes a name:
Rose, Spud, and Daisy to name but three.
And this year’s offspring: Prim, Tatty, and Iris.
Pleasant thoughts to have for sure.
Looking forward to plenty more.
Signs of hope…
Bang!
I kid you not.
The dog just barked.
Here’s the cops.
January 16, 2015
Orininoko Home
Out of the long grass came the snake:
An
Anaconda.
Microchipped
By Bear Grills.
That’s why here –
Orinoko Crescent, Swindon…
GPS!
Last week:
The Piranhas
…
Somedays it rains wonder.
Not this one…
Gaslessness: a bad start.
Sleeplessness: played its part.
Fecklessness: sad old fart.
Is there money still for tea?
January 15, 2015
Tearsday Song
That sweet Blossom, Tearsday,
loved all things
Petunia,
Luxuriating
there whenever Chance permitted.
Chance was a creature of habit,
smiled on Tearsday three times
on Thursday mornings
between Shipping Forecasts.
Gerald the Burn-Out
dwelt in anti-cyclones,
and traipsed in murk and squall.
A most unlikely couple: Which they weren’t.
January 15, 2015
Stucco
So right on
Bump and grind.
Sweat & simper.
Pass the crimper,
Adrienne, got a right one ear.
Scissor schwesters steeling snippers.
Castration: a Tomean’s rite to shoes.
Sweetbreads and old heads tail the culprit,
The lactiferous Mrs Vase. Yes, shedunnit.
With the wimple in the temple,
aided and abetted by Drudge, the Sphincter.
A distincter demon was there not.
This side of Hieronymus Dosh
January 15, 2015
Coldfinger
Brinicle Times,
cynical, clinical
inimical times.
Winter fingers the bed
killing mites
most nights.
What am I for?
To breed
some more…
Grimbeau 