Kali Says
On the lawn, undone,
watching silver radio,
listening to brazen daisies cackle,
Kali, crouched on her fold-up canvass throne,
above her subjects clamouring for crumbs,
sibilates: ‘Am I loathsome tonight?’
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Journal
June 22, 2014
Sunday Worship
Post pinball full English:
Bratwurst, sautéed tatties, eggs
Fried smoked bacon slices
Baked beans and love apples.
There was also buttered toast
Father, son, and holy ghost.
June 22, 2014
Ludo
We are Minotaur
In our labyrinths
All sublime
All divine
June 22, 2014
The Zest Fest
Get this thrill
Be no martyr
No Sidhartha
Spill no beans
Midsommer
Green scene
Thunder peel
June 20, 2014
Sissyfuss
Still undrunk.
Not that I care:
Transparently.
Pushing the big
boulder again.
Tantalus tries
to pass me a glass,
drops it.
My boulder rolls off.
We laugh.
We cry.
June 20, 2014
Fitzcaraldo
Lunchtime.
Chilly when the sun goes plug
Ate bits of last night.
Took my drugs.
Green Cold Amber.
Sun in and out.
Epiphany!
Garden excursion with coffee and cheroot.
Stare at puffy blue song swan vistas.
Make an inventory!
A gossamer feather, white as the lamb;
a cutting crowded rusty burner
(By-law say no burning till seven
on dint of death by fire; A plethora of flies.
Cut my Leg? Crimson Orinoco.
The expedition returns to base.
Bloodied but unbruised.
June 20, 2014
Normal
Orestes kills
Clytemnestra
In Slumberland:
A mattress Ide.
Blue Mother’s Day feral. Woe ensues.
Laughbarrel!
Better the tranquillity of pulchritude.
Takes your mind of things.
Truth beauty. Beauty truth. That kinda thing.
Turn of the heel. Waft of sublime stardust.
Whiff it. Insuckle. Yellow ether self.
Full as life. Teeming. Oceanically.
June 19, 2014
Temenos
Mayhap a Schnitzel?
Tennisison:
Eastbourne ladies
sing this song:
Do-da-do-da-dei.
Torment ferments,
crystallizes,
like ice and glass.
Lapis Lazuli Sky
Attila the Flotilla’s back with
a looking-glass, seeing-eye dog,
Anna Cornucopia,
myths of lanky dogend.
Mystical hollow children
call from the far horizon:
‘give me love or give me love.’
June 19, 2014
Spencer Tracy
Now,
A medicine ball props me up.
I find myself on a purple furlough
from San Drunken to Alchotraz:
fatter, stupider, floundering
wondering
Why –
which is always a stupid question,
as I well know
(should know better
but don’t).
Regrets?
I’ve hand a few…
June 19, 2014
Locus: Teeter
Perm-interrupt of daydin,
blight noise,
like thistledown,
calls me down for
an absinthe
and
an anchovy.
Stubborn as
stillborn longhorn,
I wrastle with my conch shell
and succumb
Grimbeau 