El Syd
Mood Impetigo:
Rose petal
Spikenard.
Taking Town Drain
Clueless
Bubo Black
Tuba
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Poem
June 30, 2014
Write Terse Block
Stories swim amorphous, like Chagall sprites:
teasing & taunting, winding me rightup,
shitty harpies, chicken livers, shit lilies,
pallet knife smears, chaff and ribwort, fly blight,
wormcast, hot iron in the hole.
Answer: stop poetising, not everything.
Opaque craving: not waving, just raving.
Lunchlines. Lasagne to go; no salad leaves!
All are suspects. Whatdunnit? Poison milk,
Croak & Crosswell. Condensed gift:
dilute & quaff off this myrtle quoit.
Late, great Spooner. Leave oxtail by town drain.
Quit the spritz, Turd policeman.
Bottom inspectors of the world: ignite!
Social lurkers, shadow shams. Now you see:
Now! You donut. Dream of scrumptiousness,
crack of doom. Dunderhead heard: Thunderbird said:
“Five minutes & we’re almost there.”
June 30, 2014
Slobbo
the easy way out dogs my every step –
I call it Slobbo.
It is a shadow,
reeks of burgers and pickles,
farts and burps at will,
drinks like a trooper,
smokes like a fish.
it is white at night.
it sings, shouts, and staggers then.
I watch it from my
silken hammock
fuming
June 30, 2014
as i rolled out…
Elegiac:
it rolled out one summer’s morning,
thick roll-up in one hand
tar strong coffee in the other,
halted atop the ramp
to take dappled light
took this picture:
green wheelbarrow homes
old yellow milkcrate
left side of
giant cypress treetrunk;
three paving slabs
lean leftside
propping up three
intact mauve
plastic sacks
(compost) .
Generally the earth is parched grey, arid, and ill lit.
This is a gravelly land, conifers did well here till
the buildings cropped up to replace them.
Down the hill is a loamy valley, which floods a lot.
These were the fields where the villagers
who lived up here in the pinewoods worked.
It is called Clayhill
June 30, 2014
Twixt Lyre & Letter
Equine sequins graze
Argideen banks fresh
lush morning meadow.
Vermin in ermine
once plundered this place.
Streamside reveals
Wild green hair
swims strokes stone,
gravel banks bulge,
hopeless infant meanders
know their destiny:
Aggregate.
June 29, 2014
Frustrum
Poor Quemada
Burning down
Torch Armada
Came to town
Scorch Dearth
After birth
Of a Nation?
Consequential
Conflagration
June 29, 2014
Pondlife
Up it is:
dithered, dawdled, dallied.
Barnes out: Barnes in.
Door shut and locked.
Took pills,
tectonic shift,
Subterranean Bogseat Blues.
Poohs.
Ah-aarghs.
It’s Alive!
groaning, churning, burning.
Awakenings: pondlife.
Crawling vision.
POV:
Thing gropes
Pathless:
mud, reed, slime, sludge
for warm, dry land.
Slow as a Boa.
Protozoa.
June 28, 2014
Careless Blister
No more routinely ruptured mornings –
Quite a happy prospect!
‘…Nora seemed dead on leaving.’
Meaning Wot?
Everyone is blessed: half-dressed.
Trussed and preyed on that one for another day.
Tricateurs with Secateurs;
Kiss my anus, Janus;
Facebook guttersnipes,
fishwives swimming in shirk infested waters.
We do not do blood.
June 28, 2014
Cool Linoleum
Dog day lies
undisturbed
by passers-by,
thick fur treacle
sweat insists upon
cold cider –
The menthol cheroot cure
Succours
Absolution
June 28, 2014
Deuterium Climes
Rain, sultry rain.
Opaque grapes,
leaden sky fruit,
burst on copious,
oil dark
plush olive,
swooning,
spaded,
luscious leaves.
Three chirrup
kaleidoscope toucans
tenderly engage
a dopey puffin then
hunker down within
the livid dense canopy
to share a light
repast of slender wafers
over a convivial round
of knock out whist.
Tuesdays,
no matter the weather,
is Housey-Housey,
a rainforest favourite
throughout the ages.
Beastlings from yards
Around always
Attend
Grimbeau 