The Green Lantern
smart hens pooh souffles
durable technology
virtuous circle
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Postcard from Today
February 23, 2015
Cooking on Daz
Spuds on, oven off.
Daily Gerontius with Olive Spadeface.
Leaves are hard to draw when you’re crap.
Two bags of Walker’s previously salted & some savoury balls of
Obscure provenance.
It’s a rap trap, Baby – & you been tort.
That’s me in the sauna, losing my spaghetti.
Blob and Mutt.
They of the far-famed gut
Jellyroll Morpeth.
Son of that sod: Maximillian Swell.
Cast of Godsends, back from the groove.
Loosely hanging, cockless in Dawlish
waiting for a brain. Feeling Vera’s
braiding Himmler’s genes. One. One. One.
February 22, 2015
Water Wall Carpeting
Scatological
Perfidious ocean notions
Critique pure reason
February 21, 2015
The Eavesdrop
Outdoors, car
doors slam
outside under
sunshine
On the Waterfront
plays inside
In the shade
In black and white
Behind the elephant
Under the cloud
February 21, 2015
Carthorse Corner
Too far out,
too previous,
horse chases cart,
down the winding
rutted track
half-heartedly
stampeding
February 21, 2015
Green Bacon
The Danish verge on the green.
Biomass & wind: a potent combo
(resists ratatouille quip). The dog’s gone off!
The Dreamer Wakes.
In Nebraska there is a river called Dismal.
The toilet turns over a new leaf.
A terrible beauty is born.
February 20, 2015
Upsucked
White carpet carnage
Contrary little varmints
Annihilated
Ruthless sucking gas mask tube
Makes light work for Pinkerton’s
February 20, 2015
The Borrow
Golf girl plumb potty
flipped clean absent trolley
on treacherous pin
February 20, 2015
Promotion to Ensign
Wanton crayon crimes christen hallowed books
Left about to make an impression
to go well with the curtains;
torturing the prize Siamese
just to hear its quirky hiss.
The smell of burning hair
that will be you one day.
This day, all day, every day,
but not forever.
One day you get yours
From the Orc
On level Chesil
February 20, 2015
A Confederacy of Onceness
A chaos of familiar streets edge the hub,
smell the humming throng murmur and burr.
Was that a car door or a suicide bomb,
splatting like a bursted, maddened boil?
We look up for more, get none and get back up to pace.
Streets wail blocked with beds and wardens.
We bustle along skulking, tutting, smiling,
Snarled, peering, eyes down, anti-heroes,
Loose limbed, bloodied free climbers…
But the main sport selfie masks –
learnt as toddlers when we dodged all
punishment for our misdemeanours.
Grimbeau 