Hew rugged slither
yesterday’s one tray pork roast,
suitably dried up
penitential fare fuels wet
parlous noonday situation.
Grey March murk supplies
the worldview damp dust thin mud.
Still I am glad to
Survive weekend onslaught
With my genius still intact
It came in fourth
The horse you said
Would win the race
There were three other ones in front
Of the horse you put your last sou
On while you snored and snored and snored…
Age: old. Status: inconsiderable
Lump of matter, more fat than water
Surplus to requirements
Inbuilt obsolescent
Thumb-sucker; bad attitude
One of nature’s malconcontents
Think: Brando in ‘The Wild One’
On a white pogo stick.
I know the type:
Mass murderer
Who never killed
Anything in his eventless life
Never harmed a fly on purpose ‘cept
When he made you cry on purpose.
radio silence
my favourite station blares
Pratchett’s greatest hits
No shedding today,
the ring is barren
twenty two winter sheep
pock the tufty meadow
Still grazing after all these years
Mutton full of vibrant lamb
Gabriel scowls, forlorn as a kid
Who never had a household pet
Still radio silence fills the barn
You can hear the hay
Insinuating rumours
Nits!
Grey paint is my usual,
matted not glossed,
ruffled and talced
certainly not groomed
by Governess Pecheur.
Her mild odour
Cologne and cat nip
perverts my lust for
kedgeree and fauve cheeses
Don’t think of England
America’s dutiful poodle
Europe’s rescue dog
The Holy Hour
Plenary indulgences
Carrot cake seconds
A jingle in the dingle,
a dongle in the shrub,
a riddle on a fiddle,
the median of middle.
Stepping out in running blues,
shouting ‘Still here, your twerps and twonks!’
who wished me gone for yonks.
Net curtain snideys,
hanging out dry washing
on crooked lines
just to block out the sun.
Gruel!
Trucks splayed on winceyette
Paperbacked up by thumbsail rigging.
Thieved, not in the slightest borrowed
Robbed, not pure good lend-lease film fan
Ships of Liberty cargoing
Senile bananas to far flung
Gerontocracies
These dodgems
Run by ruffians with friends
In low places: naked ventriloquists
Licking smarmphones of pox.
Rant!
Bang the wall against your head
Laughing warm inside when you find
It is only made of tapioca.
Half man: half musket
Was not was
Noisome
Stroke me branches crest the lawn,
Attracting glances beside
the splendiferous alpine experience.
A dog cocks its leg on the ugly plastic herb cover.
The tiger glows under the daffodil.
Aphids pester gannets
Thrashing in mild dark.
Slow is what it is.
The cream is questionable,
but I have no fear
cautiously prizing the lid
finding caramel and semen.
The red rubber band
on the pastry
turned blue in the freezer.
I leave the door open
to help it find room temperature.
Grimbeau 