Midday plus five.
A Flowering, fading allure.
Too superficial?
No, just indolent.
Interminable inertia.
Every step you fake…hurts.
To thyself be true.
Church organ words.
King James Bibbles…superscribbles methinks.
Dated?
Yes and no.
What you get raised on ennit – like mashed potatoes.
They never go out of fashion, do they?
…Or krill if you are a whale.
Are you really what you eat?
The Mind boggles.
Change tack,
Bypass likely
Maelstrom
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.
Grimbeau 