Ahoy! Sentient Being Ahead…
Over in the corner you make out a stranger,
you make out a stranger across a musty room,
and suddenly you know,
you know even then,
he needs a wheel and a chair, and a pen…
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Journal
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.
March 10, 2014
Homeward Sexton
Days gone grey cloud shrouds.
Not the end of the world, you know.
Beeps off.
Lamplight on.
Mood: Satanic.
Push back cloth cap,
stand on one leg, dodgy ankle,
gaze at yew tree, feel the cold wind,
pack up and go off to no good.
Walk and chew
and suck the graves
from your black nails,
tongue and swallow
a bit of grit.
Spit.
A car goes by.
Lights just go on.
Bins out tonight:
Recyling Day.
You’ve got to laugh.
Goes with the job:
A graveyard wit.
March 10, 2014
No Milk Today
Take what you want
of the shrapnel
in the red caddy
get a pint of milk
I love you…
Breathe what you will
Of the saffron
In the green garden
Tear a gown of silk
I love you…
Touch warm yellow
Kites damp taut drogues
Fly me to the moon
Is there any change?
I love you…
March 9, 2014
Limpopo Love
Where are you today?
Ungrouded? Querulous?
Bulbous? Awake?
Perhaps a wit worried
after a think.
Or an atom anxious, a bit bothered,
a chunk confounded, dripping doubt, after an epoch expectant,
a forest fearful, a gallows guarded, a hog horrified, and iota indignant.
A jumping jack:
Krakatoan. A lot lost. Amassing misery,
a noggin narked, often overlooked, permanently pouting.
Querulous I said already.
March 7, 2014
SS Head
The Gnat and Fly Dept
is a ruin.
Hens don’t lay
all his trees are dead.
Farmer Jaw they call you.
Chinless Wonder!
Hide it with your hand will you?
The wife said.
Point at the horizon
past the fields of death.
You go green, stifle pukes after the shot
when brain splats oakleaf lapel
batman dibs it off a bit quick
leads you to the limo and safe.
March 7, 2014
Things to Do
Realize
a
Film
Digest
a
Book
Be
a
Poem
March 7, 2014
Stroheim’s Lament
Lemon
grass haze
on meadow
tulips lose matt
sable edge,
shrews thrive well
fatigued:
the world is wet with war.
A sleep in three parts,
rounded by a
wireless.
Two comforts:
liquids out
&
liquids in.
kidneys
bashful
flushed
March 6, 2014
Hey Lou…What Goes On?
07:33
An Elegy:
Wetland and Fen!
Not bad.
It is a good
stretch of the legs:
Walking the Dog.
Taking and Waking
In sights &
sounds.
Stribbling,
stroodling,
straddling
stream and hurdle,
mending your feet,
watching your step.
Then
with a clear head:
Measuring up
room up for size,
first thing,
sugar soap scrub down,
then
paint it with words and birds,
oddities,
follies, bric-a-brac, décor…
sigh & Smoke
Coffee & shower now?
Finish up here first.
Catch a bit of news.
Take in the daylight,
switch off the nightlife.
March 6, 2014
Pass the Port
Winter’s been a long trudge, gummed in mud, bogged down
in deep, awkward ruts, dense and dark forest,
lost and alone, despairing, plenty drunk,
ill with dysentery in sight of home on
a hill fort moat full by water, like Ely without eels,
Hereward the Wake, and Roman quislings.
Bare, blue bummed witches hurl abuse from towers
in the rushed bogland, but no heed is paid.
Their order is clear, give up and get out.
But No! We squit and squat, lugubriate
in stinking mud, rotting leaf and twig, leaf mulch
and loam. My friends are toads in the thicket,
Yellow, shocking pink, emerald, amber
eyes blink calm, slow, gaze fixed on prey prone,
incapable of flight, that they shall despatch
with a quick, languid, silent lashing tongue flick.
Big bugs like us are too much like hard work
we wait on longer days and higher tides
With grace, a measure of luck, we will be
in soft, juicy, new architecture then.
Warm under kind sun through larch leaf, eyebeams
and sunbeams, drogues of sorts, hold this fast
floating canopy secure, and we watch
sycamore helicopters gliding past
Grimbeau 