Philomena
Under or not?
Lighters!
Grumped out
with doubt…
Sort of sulking.
Fantasy:
now would be work, creation, production.
Unwaged Vassal instead.
Spy In The House
of Lucre.
Onionman has no hard shoulder to cry on.
Thinks:
Fresh air fields of May.
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Journal
March 5, 2014
Minds Meet
Thank-you
Mr
Borges:
after all,
what you wrote,
sent me
off
scroodling.
March 4, 2014
Just…
…wishing I was the night, I would watch
over you with
a million eyes.
Like the monster cloud made of eyes,
I weep great oceans, and on the beach
bathe
your Tootsies.
You are animal, made of flowers,
And our dream lives
Are rounded by
Wonderstuffs.
March 4, 2014
Vanity Fayre
Bekka was shocked,
horror stricken
by the gossip
about the tappings.
She was after all
human and while
not a mother
a woman.
So were
Excreta Bourgeois
and Nutella Divan.
Both met a sticky end in cake and catarrh…
black and white bile,
flaccid acid wit,
tweet of brevity,
a probe is announced.
So is all untruth flogged,
like a dead horse.
March 3, 2014
Conduit
Soft, juicy, granite
sofa
Why do you treat me
Like toffee
When you know full well
I am
Taffeta?
March 2, 2014
Ambergrise
Five, ten to…
Poetry Please!
The sky darker,
rain and nightfall,
alone all day,
from others apart.
Do I want to see a picture of your brother’s damaged face?
No need to ask.
Friday’s rice and chicken stew is had,
now it sits on
three bags of crisps,
one ready salted (red),
the other cheese & onion (blue),
and a banana.
I have a funny taste in my mouth,
not bawking,
just savoury
salt belly draft.
Tomorrow a friend will find out how much
left foot he has, well, left.
Afghanistan beat Bangladesh at cribbage.
Gave up on Vertigo and came up here to die.
Another victory for common sense.
Failed again.
March 2, 2014
Birdbrain
That complete,
the mind flits,
like a swift?
No, a shard
Like the omen,
with Greg Peck.
We’ll get there…
A Sprite!
That was it.
The mind flits
like a Sprite.
March 1, 2014
Patience takes Time
Sit
in sun
sat in sun
sat set sit stop
cloud two times so far
of late big black slug slow
cloud scuds west left me satin
shade so I wait to sit in sun…
Sun!
Too slow
more cloud chart
black sea blue tear
drop ash in ash tray
wait to sit in some sun
soon see no more blue black sea
now sat I sing of sun sat in
March 1, 2014
In the Cage
Descended:
queer, sad,
out of sync,
small talk
hard
and
porous:
Tumescent.
Filling time
Filling you.
Oberon
passing out.
Ate soft boiled,
flew a kite,
gargled, spat, and
ascended.
March 1, 2014
Lines on my Mistress Snoring
There is pleasure sometimes
when the pain sleeps
rests its harpy’s head
on a nice warm lizard
but, promethean
is not a word
that springs to mind
when you are in flames.
This morning as I flood
Your drapeless windows
A body turns away
to hometown night
Grimbeau 