Posture
Open
Doors and windows
Open
Mind, legs, and heart
Open
Shoulders
Up
Sky eyes
Floodgates
Tins
All hours
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Poetry
July 8, 2013
Roastling
Lamb berg ahoy!
Thar she bastes!
Sliver me ginger!
Source the mint!
July 8, 2013
Peptic Ulster
My father ,‘Aitch’, as I called him
for nuisance value, came from Ulster.
(Tyrone to be preciser. Dungannon
to be preciser still). Growing up, as you do,
it was clear the Ulster had troubles.
My father, who, as is stated above,
came from Ulster,
Tyrone to be preciser,
Dungannon to be preciser still.
Suffered from an Ulcer.
‘We have all got our crosses to bear.’
He told me on occasion.
Later it was strange to discover that an Ulster Fry
is very similar to a Full English
except with farls and other stuff.
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.
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…
June 17, 2013
Pawspause
Afternoon aftermath after
A tumultuous weekend of whisky
and wounds and lesions to self by self,
to self by others, and the rest of it as well.
Heavy warming windless afternoon of droning lawnmowers.
Food ingested, fish & eggs, onward and sideboard.
Sarnies & Pringlees, scabby knees’ ups…then
doppelbangers & yonyons! Feke daze in sum dazzling meddo:
krumpetities in transparent kotton; yum-yum;
mosskeytoes zip sharpish nippingly,
bugginuss as youshoe well: nerewhon gniog.
Strudelweissly hee hawed hiz whey Threwtown.
June 13, 2013
Bulletin
6:14 PM
Alone all day awake and asleep, done
no work, went out on the balcony: the
batman plays the Stradivarius – Blink.
Grimbeau 