Look out!
An ill wind
Coughs: spits out
Lilac phlegm.
Now smell
sweet almond waft
angry onions:
this garden is
full of livid
sad mad
bramble.
Ghoulish dead potato
crazed leek
rise up to
taste
doomed decay
reeking havoc
hear
the cluck as
amok chickens
weep behind trembling
toffee wrappers
See
Behind that mauve shed
a terrible lettuce
is born.
Crave still and clear vision,
you never know it could, you know.
Bad lad down,
clear out of town.
Do not darken our door
bad news boy.
Come back when we’re gone out.
Sit down hard and think about it,
what you did,
You. Serves you right, eh?
Got your just deserts.
Look at you standing
lost in long grass
with toffee in your hair,
bramble scrammed calves
and shins.
Hide from the passing voices.
You’re on the run on your own.
Outsider till the smell of onions
frying, then, caught on the horns of…
Conflicted. In two minds caught on
Hungry man: angry man.
Be nice, take your medicine, be brave,
get fed, then go back to the Land of Nod you little sod.
Grimbeau 