Grimbeau

Scroodles

Tag: People

Bombast

 

JFK

 

What did he ever

do for me

John Fitzgerald

Kennedy?

What indeed! Stopped world war three –

that’s a start.

An indefinite postponement so far,

Certainly.

It would be very bad for business, it

was argued,

an argument that held water

with many,

a popular viewpoint among those

who knew who

John Kennedy was.

And for those who didn’t

A chance, an opportunity

to find out.

Santiago

Food is Love

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Bury your knee at wounded heart
marry a buffet saint
Nigella’s got

Two black eyes
Mary Berry ain’t.

Mugg

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Mugg, the failed suicide, is escorted
to her coiffeur for a ruffle & snip,
natters, buns, and Tizer too.
She is weak of leg and mind, partakes
of unlethal foodstuffs;

prawn cocktail sausages,
bananas in anchovy sauce,that kind of thing.

When she insults the trees they turn away
knowingly, to whisper disapproval
to the concubine breeze.

Sympathy is like gas
and tears:
a finite
commodity.

Silence of the Hens

grimbeau's avatarGrimbeau

mike

Clouds bed

down easy

The chooks

make hush,

Throttled,

twoggled:

Nessum

Dorma

Chicken

Korma

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Byrdsongs

Talk is Buses:

Pubic transport

Greenline fine?

Not grotesque

But Divine

 

Spudmark

Brunch with Gabo

 

Marquez-11

 

Bacon & Egg

on White,

Celestial

choir sings,

 

Quarry versus Man.

‘Let any among you who is without

stone,

cast the first sin.’

 

Sanhedrin rules apply, Oscar.

 

Heads off

for Harper.

Rock Kasbah.

Whiten

Sepulchre.

Breastfeed

Granite Post

Office Party

Pooper

Go and Wash!

Do you bathe or shower

in words?

In this fast world you shower,

don’t you?

A swift run through,

break a world record,

cusses,

blew it

dropped

All-in-One.

Precious moments

lost to the clock.

An anti-government protester is engulfed in flames

 

The unborn wait forever.

 

Homeward Sexton

 

sky

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.

 

 

Stroheim’s Lament

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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