Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Poem
October 12, 2012
Poetic Champions Decompose
She Sings Good
Way downstream in
Sleeping Waters rise
Spring tides surge.
How very dare I meet her now,
brave the dangerous voyage?
The grass lies down in the valley below
Where milk cows ominous sit.
After hands work scripts that never end
Dawn to dusk when the cuckoo spits
September 13, 2012
Garbage
My old man’s a dustbin,
He wears a dustbin lid:
His sister’s name is Binbag,
And his brother’s name is Sid.
September 13, 2012
Day for a Mood
And so,
continue along this rutted path,
overgrown with tangled undergrowth,
wort & porphyry knots
rocket and the sea grass
entwines red berries
and battered hollow inclined stick
on this blighted Savannah of tatty leaves,
and leave them meshed & mashed
by decay and dew.
There is nothing:
somewhere.
September 13, 2012
Shampoo, Set, & Match
May, the failed suicide, is escorted
to her coiffeur for a ruffle & snip,
natters too.
She is weak of leg and mind and partakes
of unlethal foodstuffs; sausages and
bananas in anchovy sauce,
that kind of thing.
When she insults the trees they turn away
knowingly to whisper disapproval
to the breeze.
Sympathy is like gas,
and tears
a finite
commodity.
September 13, 2012
Down the Mine
Prospect:
Anthracite unshined and dirt black,
Clogging every aperture,
Crevice,
And hole:
Unhosed for public consumption.
No sound or light to hear or see,
Just the wireless & Davy lamp:
Maid in Bangkok Sweatshop.
Half a house swap in Ithaca, Greece.
Escape this coal face;
Leave the pick & shovel:
Gerraway!
Yer Puggled.
Just for several months!
Then, back again:
Arsewisely.
You always bring your weather with you.
Me Too!
Everyhere you go there is a lot going on.
Same old, same old;
Except for the new stuff:
Off course.
Grimbeau 