Roastling
Lamb berg ahoy!
Thar she bastes!
Sliver me ginger!
Source the mint!
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Journal
July 5, 2013
Cornlegs Kellflakes
Above them clouds the monk soars:
Theloniously.
July 5, 2013
daylight robbery
dawn breaks on the bough
replacing weary night;
werewolf and dogman
return to their lairs;
and, we ride out
to snatch Tyburn’s necklace,
and plant it deep in
undiscovered clays
July 5, 2013
Burin
Jejune
plastic paddy
once bumptious happy
sat out night’s
confinement considering a
crap consignment.
The can is
a frying pan:
A con sang;
‘Guinevere’
Sad that…
July 5, 2013
some lines on a summer’s night
Soft verse for the rolling on day
rich corpulent berries:
shiny cherries make windows for
the platinum moon
and smooth lies curse yesterday’s
setting sun.
July 3, 2013
Send in the Drones
Wasn’t that sick?
Are you aware?
Me lying dead on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the drones.
Didn’t it miss?
How can they prove?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move.
Where are the drones?
Send in the drones.
Just when I’d stopped opening wars,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my nonchalant air,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don’t you love force?
My call I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the drones?
Quick, send in the drones.
Don’t bother, they’re here
Isn’t it sick?
Isn’t it clear,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the drones?
There ought to be drones.
Let’s get out of here.
Related articles
- US drone strike in Pakistan kills 18 (thenewstribe.com)
July 3, 2013
In Fear of Place
Mike Foot died yesterday.
My
mind flew to
the Bevan biography:
when I read it
how I felt.
Then
there was the Scarfe sculpt of him laying crumpled
in a duffel coat with a mop for hair
and spine
This
was soon after
Scarfe had done ‘the wall’
cartoon movie sequences with pink Floyd
who were busy floating inflated pigs.
Huston and the Moby Dick
latex whales,
cast adrift by a seastorrm and floating
about the cork coastline endangering shipping.
Poor Mike,
a bit like
the latex whale himself,
as he got swamped
by the ugly tory juggernaut,
and the middle class parasites of the sdp fiasco.
I heard Owen belching out some shite
about Plymouth after the war, Argyle etc – what a dick!
I have dreamt about being looked upon with
general disapprobrium
for
frequent use of this word,
smacks of a bit of
adolescent muckiness.
there
was this thing on the radio about
Salinger and I was full of shit last night,
so it’s understandable.
June 24, 2013
The Bard of Armagh
Moderngasm organism, wheeze and
puff: chaosmos indeed. Reality
is something to be read out loud at night
to sleeping cuckoos and sparrowhawks.
A zephyr throws the yellow post-it to
the floor…’Sunder; shags; Jacquerie: Blumenfeld.’
Worramess by Wotan.
June 21, 2013
rain stops play
Pinball and Dickens, it will rain soon: the window will be shut.
Our hero is unwashable.
His father done bad investments.
Cold uncle with the sneery clerk do not help.
What is worse is that is he must go
faraway from this familiar terror
work for Squeers and dwell in his world.
Back in London the dirty oiks cheered him
on his way and gave him a letter.
he did not read it, forgot it.
We worry about him.
He drops the letter, retrieves it from the carriage floor
and reads:
‘…you can come at night. My spilling has gone with my wallies. Pops.’
June 18, 2013
Alfred Lawn Tennis On
Cledgy, mired coach clay, flint, chipping stone way
Or road
Demi light with stars
Open
Big front window room to roam
Sloth slinks up till dawn and bedtime: dog in
Dog out
Pooh! One is grateful for a humongous stale
Log in
Watched over by Winnipeg beavers
Well-ordered sawmill workers of Saskatchewan
Never so big as the mad at the bbc
Fawning sycophantic plum voiced on
A day to dismember ken barlow charged
By bet lynchmob for druidic noncling
With children seven so far Prince Zorba:
Not dead just snoring.
Heed the two houses dwelling opposite
Growing in daylight I cannot see what
I am writing – very exciting and
Unusual typing errors do not
Matter with a pen: legibility
Is the thing. Speak to my legible
Razorbill; get advice and nails cut.
Five a day everyday: honeysuckled.
Police in california dampen
Cold when asked about a disappointing
Flatfish takeaway from Martha’s Backyard.
Cannot see to count the spilt sugar in
Lap swept from the working surface landing
On my leg and cascading to rest like
Sand I am shorsighted and the shadow
Of my seated bulk all obscuring
All that falls before me I will smoke at
Four fifteen am. Single Ladies Final
Between Black Amazon screaming Yank
And White Caucasian screaming blond Yank
Rain unlikely and likely for grunting Spaniard
Man and grunting something Slavian man
On tomorrow, Sunday. Both of these events
Take place at the Roland Barthes tournament.
Fields of golden snails and periwinkles
Crushed by generations of bash foot
Stamping sliding budgeoning foot crunch
And make a sandpit in Paris to play in
Over the weekend and other times if you
Are rich, powerful, and influential
And it is not pissing down a deluge
For there is no ceiling roof for refuge.
To and fro: in and out of play all day
Work done over load and friction empty
Ball. Sweat is the weakness coming out we
Are oxygenerators on a grand
Scale writ large and mind still clear swift sharp
Mass, movement, power: but, slow, paused
Interrupted. Patterned by traditional
Regulation says the court is too big or small.
Time, light, weather, rootlessness, atmospheres…
Grimbeau 