Cornlegs Kellflakes
Above them clouds the monk soars:
Theloniously.
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Postcard
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.
July 3, 2013
In Fear of Place
Mike Foot died yesterday.
My
mind flew to
the Bevan biography:
when I read it
how I felt.
Then
there was the Scarfe sculpt of him laying crumpled
in a duffel coat with a mop for hair
and spine
This
was soon after
Scarfe had done ‘the wall’
cartoon movie sequences with pink Floyd
who were busy floating inflated pigs.
Huston and the Moby Dick
latex whales,
cast adrift by a seastorrm and floating
about the cork coastline endangering shipping.
Poor Mike,
a bit like
the latex whale himself,
as he got swamped
by the ugly tory juggernaut,
and the middle class parasites of the sdp fiasco.
I heard Owen belching out some shite
about Plymouth after the war, Argyle etc – what a dick!
I have dreamt about being looked upon with
general disapprobrium
for
frequent use of this word,
smacks of a bit of
adolescent muckiness.
there
was this thing on the radio about
Salinger and I was full of shit last night,
so it’s understandable.
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.
June 13, 2013
Mumblings
What was the whisper of the sea?
Around the balustrade
What was the whistle of the sea?
Who cast me in this mystery?
When is the start of history
What was the whisper of the sea,
Around the balustrade.
Yellow is blue
The sun is gray
A sizzling sausage goes cold and older
The scythe rests in the mellowed sun
Concorde eases a troubled shoulder
Gray is blue
The sun is yellow
June 12, 2013
Beachcombing
Tefal
Lopsided head, dead on the sloping strand.
Smooth, sea polished shingle sizzles around
The victim of a mindless, callous hunt.
Transparently, he was born a mutant runt
Misfortune dogged him from his strangled birth
Until annihilation put an end to Bert
When it came the blow was random
His assailants worked in tandem
And cornered him beneath the pier
And despatched him swift without a care
The denounement was not so smooth
As they kicked him in the ocean crude
Tefal sank but not to the bottom
His killers thought he was forgotten
But he was borne by longshore and by rip
And in Pevensey he rested in deep silt
That is until a passing fisher digging for lug
His preserved remains out he dug
‘What’s up’ said Tefal examining his head
‘You’ with saline brevity the fisher said
‘These twenty years I have been there
Dead and happy without fear or care.
Why do you give me such a stare?’
‘A hermit crab is crawling from your nose,
And there is distinct molusculation of your toes.
My name is Fred and if I might
Let’s go and show you to my wife
She is a fan of oddity
That is why she married me.’
So, from the strand they did repair
Tefal picking worms from ear and hair
And went to Fred’s house and went right in
And Fred’s wife gasped ‘Well, look at him!’
Fred explained the circumstances of his discovery
And Mrs Fred decided on Tefal’s recovery
Was plovers eggs and strawberry jam
And slices of her homemade ham
That she had cured with her own fair hand
With the leg Fred found last year washed up upon the strand.
Grimbeau 