Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: Journal

Twixt Lyre & Letter

homelessman

Equine sequins graze

Argideen banks fresh

lush morning meadow.

Vermin in ermine

once plundered this place.

Streamside reveals

Wild green hair

swims strokes stone,

gravel banks bulge,

hopeless infant meanders

know their destiny:

Aggregate.

Frustrum

300px-Votive_Pyramid_La_Quemada

Poor Quemada

Burning down

Torch Armada

Came to town

 

Scorch Dearth

After birth

Of a Nation?

 

Consequential

Conflagration

 

Pondlife

Banksy6

Up it is:

dithered, dawdled, dallied.

Barnes out: Barnes in.

Door shut and locked.

Took pills,

tectonic shift,

Subterranean Bogseat Blues.

Poohs.

Ah-aarghs.

It’s Alive!

groaning, churning, burning.

Awakenings: pondlife.

Crawling vision.

POV:

Thing gropes

Pathless:

mud, reed, slime, sludge

for warm, dry land.

Slow as a Boa.

Protozoa.

 

Careless Blister

1557453_625734367462430_1682054384_n

No more routinely ruptured mornings –

Quite a happy prospect!

‘…Nora seemed dead on leaving.’

Meaning Wot?

Everyone is blessed: half-dressed.

Trussed and preyed on that one for another day.

Tricateurs with Secateurs;

Kiss my anus, Janus;

Facebook guttersnipes,

fishwives swimming in shirk infested waters.

We do not do blood.

Deuterium Climes

6wUdG6i

Rain, sultry rain.

Opaque grapes,

leaden sky fruit,

burst on copious,

oil dark

plush olive,

swooning,

spaded,

luscious leaves.

 

Three chirrup

kaleidoscope toucans

tenderly engage

a dopey puffin then

hunker down within

the livid dense canopy

to share a light

repast of slender wafers

over a convivial round

of knock out whist.

 

Tuesdays,

no matter the weather,

is Housey-Housey,

a rainforest favourite

throughout the ages.

Beastlings from yards

Around always

Attend

 

 

 

WHeel

11135-620x

I

am

Blessed of

A

Multi-

Personality

Disgorger:

What about you?

 

Mange Tout

415e30dc3b1127b66acb5cd11ad44fb3

The caliph & the caliphate

Arranged a secret dinner date

Near Toulon, in the south of France

Called ‘Honi soi qui mal y pense.’

Changelings

tumblr_n3qi4oRQVH1r855nqo1_500

Some things

one finds

are too

personal

to put in to words,

or any other form,

they are

incommunicado

and will remain so

until the cows come home

or hell freezes over

 

 

Roman Holiday

A view of the intersection at 5th Avenue and 42nd Street

…And,

on the right

 

The Tarpeian Rock

there,

Romans cast

their

Bankers off

Cinders

 

65953-004-D2A6F947

Too sad to write,

wash my quill in saline

then candle quash.

Thrift shines,

lights the copper scuttle carving

a giant shadow

on hearth

matter