Rasher Baps
droll nodes
brood
rude
colours:
pastel dragons
come from
melted crayon
puddles
sizzling bacon
takes the air,
makes it purr
like a pillow
we swallow
eating
our words
like gruel
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Magic Realism
August 23, 2014
Yes!…You Did!
This morning…
I
spent
Reading, reading,
reading
my back pages
Wincing & chuckling;
embarrassed & confused,
dazed & amused.
Impertinent little jerk
Shaking a dead man’s geraniums.
I am the guy who
wrote this shit
Am
I…?
This afternoon
August 22, 2014
Flawed Claude (the colour lampshade…)
He’s up, he’s up…
he’s down again
Like a yoyo,
a rat up a pump
Or a fiddler’s elbow
Not coming
Nor going
Just up to…
What?
August 21, 2014
# Ate Dream
Cheroot smoke
plumes and wisps
Effigy, Eulogy, Ecstasy…
Bingo!
In Thames Ditton
A drowned kitten
In your own backyard.
Smartphone spews
Headjuice on Muesli.
August 20, 2014
Tickly Cough
Tidy,
half tidy,
untidy…
there is a
tidy in
Affairs
of Zen
August 11, 2014
Snug?
Ate and was
on my own
faraway
lackaday
blownaway
Comfy Love?
Big thing asks
me questions – why?
Windshine
Shush-hours
Perfection!
Quote…Unquote follows
So do I?
Yes, I am cold.
How did you guess?
So, to bed after
food and fumigation.
The heavens
piss stones.
An internet crashes.
I get up
A head of steam
radio
July 23, 2014
Quashed Tomato
Unreal night
blood damp black
on sun-drenched grass.
No buttercups grow in
Iguana hours: stone dead cicadas
Pop! One more skin shed.
For sale:
A cider press;
Zealous owner.
Time thwitels away,
stops some clocks,
breaks all rocks.
Under moon
The garden blooms.
Thwarts & All.
July 22, 2014
A Beast
Starving
savaged anchovy,
ravaged dry
baguette,
tore off a sockful,
wrapped up shredded limb
A bloodless coup d’ pan complete…
till later:
Part-sated, basking in its modest cranny,
the predator lowers, rests ruminant,
still wanting, just waiting, inhaling, whittling.
July 21, 2014
…it ain’t no sin
The deep, odd, shock of it hit me in the sun
On the shed path, marooned on a concrete crack
Freed up took in the scene, shocked, turned;
Trundled, older, balder, back up the ramp
Freewheeled, calmer, silent, down the ramp
Came to rest beside the stable table,
Tossed my hair (singular) in the blue breeze
And wiped the puss from Barney’s weeping souls.
The moo-cows are gone home to roast
No more mutinous idiots barge in
Decide to play this game of life to win
July 20, 2014
Sanguine Time
The first of the few,
the last of the many,
the next or
the runner-up,
the second last bar none
the rising of the moon
at the setting of the sun
under cypress shadows
wise chrysanthemum
Grimbeau 