Eumeaus
Fat Neighbours Incident
‘oh, I say! Aren’t you fat?’
Inflated silent rage and…
‘Pot Black’
A shot rings out, the lawnmowers stop.
‘I don’t understand’
A cryptic slaughter.
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Song
May 21, 2013
Door Death
So, farewell then, Ray Manzarek
Baroque’n’Roll Pyro:
Vox of Reason
Of Strange Doors.
Cremation?
Special Friend.
May 20, 2013
On the Passing of the Pioneer Spirit…
He was known to live life dissipated:
Gambolling in crazed buffonery,
Guzzled half a modest brewery.
When his liver, bored, emigrated.
My Uncle Head was steadfast and insistent:
‘Feed me!’ he yelled ‘Til I’m wild euphoric.’
For a pint of gin, no tonic: chronic.
So immaculated homeward: distant.
Ten Afton and a quart of Barleycorn,
stern tea and two, too loud radios
Unwelcomed him the very next morning
as he dimly recalled Jack de Mannio,
gave up on a shower and yawning,
levitated outsidewards to soil the patio.
Back inside he trawled in his shotaway head
and dredged up from its slum, the aviator,
Louis Blerio, who, a century and
one day ago, fetched lobster thermidore
and ate it for breakfast on England.
Head sloooshed a tuft of dog and considered
The perilous return voyage while his liver withered.
May 17, 2013
Villanelly the Mastadon
Villa Nelly the Elephant
Phew! Thank Zeus for that, now it is over
Free at last of the drivelling, humdrum forum
Safely rest in peace and eat ambrosia!
Netiquetee niggly no-no’s off you go, Sir!
Untrammelled by the facile, graceless boredom
Phew! Thank Zeus for that, now it is over
No longer shall one have to soft demur
To the basilisk eyed referential quorum
Safely mush some peas and eat ambrosia
For twenty nights in the same pullover
Horse latitudinal, relentless doldrums,
Break free, get out of that, now it is over.
Have you waited on mention of a four-leaf clover?
Or dreamt of gliding condors of the sun
So say, thank Zeus for that, now it is over.
I dreamt last night as wracked by farce and bovver
A phrase I forgot came back to me, ‘Have Fun!’
Phew! Thank Zeus for that, now it is over
You can safely rest and eat ambrosia.
May 13, 2013
This little piggy went…
Half-eight and getting dark,
night falls over,
gives up the day,
and slumps,
snoring till tomorrow morning, when it wakes
frozen and dank
in a ditch
called Monday.
If summer comes, what shall we be?
Drunken loons cavorting in the cups of memory:
escapees, refugees, and philanderers, rusting in the sun,
never sleeping,
corroding in the night,
spongers in the morning’s dew:
mist as a vat.
Or, just the moiety of a tanner,
half a sixpence,
belted and braced,
suited and booted.
All dressed up
nowhere to go.
Related articles
- Loons in the morning mist (captainkenscloud.com)
May 9, 2013
Elephant Horn & Rhino Dust
Cowered and screamed,
wed and daughtered,
wired and attritional,
Simplicius & Simplissimus,
boiled cafe and beetroots…
So
Don’t put your daughter on the stove, Mrs. Worthington!
April 11, 2013
It…
Then
breaks clear, steady indigo day,
one star awake in the west, cautious
action on the horizon;
nerve
ends flapping on the wind, nerve ends
like underwater shrubbery,
waving and posturing,
sometimes
leeward bowing; sometimes starboard:
a massed rank of constant certainty.
I claim the right to dream in words.
Yesterday
afternoon I ate two
chocolate chip cookies,
the straws that broke the camel’s belly,
and now everything is blubber
& stool.
April 11, 2013
Muggletonian Homesick Blues
I have thought more quickly than I can write;
milk monitors;
good brandy & fillet steak;
gargantuan thirst;
the English;
nonsense;
the death of the left;
rain & clutter;
sign on you crazy Diamond;
suffer any wrong that is done to you rather than come here;
the state is an unnecessary evil;
the phones do not work.
March 17, 2013
Rosie & Banjo
Plod-plod-plod-plod: A quadroplod, called Roddy, Rodders, Rodney
A nod’s as good as a wink to those who cannot see me
I am the king, horse king,
Looking about see the world sideways tyranny
Of my very large nose. Equine whinny
Giddy up halt walk on. Plop chomp clip clop
On harder surfaces. Clunkety-clank pop
Grimbeau 