Journal | Grimbeau

July 31, 2013

Still Life Wall

…that grease-monkey over there,

clad in a voluminous grey migraine of a kaftan,

smells incoming rain, she

watches the rosewood barometer plummet

from minds-eye.

Two cups: dark, bog green and light duck egg blue –

call it grey if you will. Look upon the too pink wall!

A violet pyggy bank, dark pastel blue lagoon.

Dylan: fat sporting unselfconscious Woodbine,

older and hooked now, Larne shed dweller;

‘..in the town of New Haven’… Morrison mugshot postcard;

Milligan Sieg-Heiling traffic Hitler.

Curling at the edges coloured

photocopy of dog-eared Ulysses.

Wailing was the morning

wall of lost projections.

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July 30, 2013

Critical Mass

Idling around upstairs:

the crows nest on a dead

lead soft afternoon.

Was that our gate?

Is the back door locked?

Pscho-burglars,

Killer-flyers,

Mutant neighbours, midweek papers,

possibly a bloody postman!

hello…

hullo…

Helloohh…

stagnant pause (eleven years)…

sighs…(two short, one longer)

footfall on stair…

Shostokovich climaxes…

A throat clears…

Blue flush of toilet…

Phulushhh…

‘What was it?…’

‘When I picked it up it was dead…hisss

I mean dead happened just as I picked it up…

the other one was the paper boy…’

Deeep breathes…

so glad it was just a piddling matter.

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July 27, 2013

Dunkslam

Cruel and vicious age as ever was

longsuffering lifesufferer.

Do not bullshit one about the deprivations of the posh or chide me

I am unspeakable toothless with bite snap vengeful hard work

my reward three times twenty three this year shite up the snout

maculate deceivers line your nests and fill your boobies with

silica and choux pastry resentful me you betcha runs in the

breed like the wooden leg hip hop clip clop Iggy copped it

again last night a long drawn out affair mizzled puzzled dazzled

daddy sulks longest sulk in history of history and night

disturbing bassoon oboe stormtrooping quadruped

foodless as a mulligatawny owl a moustachioed pistachio

beckoned forward by a blindfold bogyman for mud is thicker

than water go the whole hog and take the plunge…

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July 27, 2013

Brooklyn’s Buggy

Siegfried came and went:

Sixty-Niner

Move faster,

Desiderata:

‘Go Bentley

without Plates…’

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July 26, 2013

Faffing

Showered thoroughly, racket of motors and gardeners ergo

no P&Q – which should be minded at all times. Pills taken

after scotch egg and salad. Sit outside in the din? Coffee & Fag first,

Friday afternoon slope off early. Bone piece on Hacek okay,

Strike Magazine – check it out, maybe subscribe. Need something

softer under my bare arse. Where was I? Coffee and fag.

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July 25, 2013

Sleeping Fish

There are yellowfish

crying out

for a poach.

We approach seven.

It is evening:

drinks on the patio,

freewheeling banter, laughs , and snacks.

Tapas lovingly prepared.

The lugubrious air

memories of summers past.

Dreamtime in a word.

The smoked haddock will stop yelling soon.

Green or black olives, Daphne?

Are they pitted?

By my fair hand.

You are the one, aren’t you…What’s that sound?

Fish snoring.

Tee-hee-hee…

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July 24, 2013

Heel

Yesterday plus one

damp smell of seventies

porn mag, black and white,

thick minged,

Titbits or Parade,

lawn and hedge,

put it back where you found it:

a secret.

Stealthy wanks and aloof strops conceal

the pull and then sulky sleep,

complex born.

Delivered by a bald man from Parslow’s

who looked like a parrot,

or that comedian who made a film with a parrot,

lantern jawed, sort of Stanley Holloway,

that time anyway.

We move into different times of Happy Door

writing down the football scores

in a Woolworth red notebook

and very erudite

but for the greasy skin and hair

and the Bri-nylon shirt:

withered upturned orange collar,

second hand jacket that was always too big:

still is.

Pink salmon trousers for smart

made me look and feel like a dork,

perhaps I was!

Do not let on or you’ve had it,

there will be retribution and bullying

far worse than ever known in the history of me.

Join gangs,

walk hard and hide

clever bully,

ideas man,

dirty rec,

silly temptress with Goldie locks,

the smell of sweet wee-wee.

Bowled him!

Over

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July 24, 2013

Road to Tad

Tarmac patch water tower

wood stump clearing dip

and two

little double roundabouts,

flat binocular

white nipples

sullied by tyre smear,

skids, and fast

turning people

rushing to the bomb

plant past gypsy site,

through wood and common bends

and twists and dents

to the Falcon’s nest…

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July 24, 2013

Mornlight Drive

A blind, dead driver

in front

slows and

indicates all options

before a left at the lights opposite

a set sun of cheap stuff

and loss leaders

that call the believers

and sinners to shop.

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July 23, 2013

Breakfast at Knobbly Knees

Late sultry night and nearly sultry morning.

DODI? More royal dross, oozy does it,

nice & oozy.

Hot & Cold liquid. Door?

Scratch? Make enquiries without.

PC Pigeon, Flying Squad, scratching around

like Inspector Hound – more of a sniffer who likes a snorter.

Barmy cops the blame for littering path.

Does his bit, Hound.

Slowly make drinks of coffee and codeine,

think food: rashers possible. Go get it together:

fill kettle, don kaftan, open door

(already did that above).

Verses! Form and content.

Wrestling with Flowers:

let it flow out, only drips from an empty tap.

Sticky so shower laters.

Gutpowder arrives; cause celebre to

noisy gobsloth to be centre of attention:

failed and fucked off!

Trappism recommenced at 10:45.

Start to detox tomorrow; fancy a sausage!

Quite peckish, yesterday’s heat mostlike;

thunder earlier; food is good. Sausages on: pollop shopping;

feeling flat, food and incantation desired;

crock steady, one day at a time sweet nexus.

Sharpen up with a shower, kick out the jams…

Note a relapse to ultra-brevity,

so often happens when fractious, hereshow:

skirting the zone, hit and run prowler.

Regard the Fearstalker

See the pushy, nagging whippet.

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Tag: Journal