Big Old Softy
Sentimentality
Just the very thought of it
makes me lachrymose
Swelling floodgates overspill
laugh, cry, sob,
my brittle heart out
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: writing
February 6, 2015
The Fraudulence of Easy Grazing
Note that time, the morning shift is done.
Chats, coffee, fags and candles.
The incubator of the day’s potential gossip.
The Bullshit Zone.
I am a serious writer, he smirked
and stared at the word ‘smirked’,
half laugh, half cough, throat clearing tune, drumbeat
of phlegm, weak husky,
light breathing,
round shouldered smoker,
playing poker with the day.
Do you think it’s bluffing?
Let it go, Jo…
Yes, the early shift,
the pause for ninety,
then the second, windless coming.
Hunger grows.
Food consumes time.
Time is food’s next meal.
What is mine?
A plate of last night
or something novel.
A pineapple and oxtail pastie?
Sounds nice.
Might catch on…
Are there crisps, snacks,
nibbles, biscuits, chocolate trees,
crackers enough to shut me up?
I pause.
Revise.
Devise.
Invent.
Come up with new things.
See if they fit, if they are the right size,
if they squeak when I walk.
What colour, taste, smell?
What is the provenance?
The pedigree.
No – it was not enough.
It was Plenty.
February 5, 2015
Bubblevision
Four craven trees,
Black poison trees,
cunning, life
sucking Yews.
Visible
Stark smooth
Rippled water
Calms reflecting
Your face
And the
Silhouette
Against the sky behind you.
You look blank
Sort of lost
In light
February 5, 2015
The Flurry
Midday comes
in fast on
the flow
A whimsical whim
To suicide
Swim
Snow spasmodic
Frenetic
Chute
Unsettling till
Unsettled:
Gone
February 4, 2015
Cabbage Patch Blues
Mud is the median
Of dearth and flood
In this Garden of
Earthly Detritus.
The Luisenpark Park:
little old boys playing
giant chess under obsolete
scarlet pergola
Right next to the practical
Functional, punctual Imbiss,
Come ride the lurid
primrose chain drawn rowboats
Judder and jerk through the claggy,
pissed off captive flamingos huddled on
a muddy spit
shivering under bleak gaze
submission
Resignation to the cold war grey
telecom tower.
It scares proud erect,
savoy green voluptuaries
flourish about the subterranean root
The rest is waste. A weedy, rotting hinterland
of winter ruin and neglect. As I wince a
black plastic sheet sneers at my disdain.
I lean defiant on the fork,
earth yields to the fronds.
Resistance assumes novel
steadfast lopsided defiance.
February 4, 2015
Hue & Cry
Prematurely
summoned
by hounds
alarmed by slams & shouts –
sound carries well under cold white floret clouded skies –
Cauliflower sharp acoustics
Keen the acute
Well-honed
Canine ear
February 2, 2015
slipper-sucker
Sucking on a nostril
Appeasing my foe with
overzealous and thus
insincere, boorish
thin disatisfactory
reassurances. Bowing
scraping my most sincere
commitment to non-violent
intervention at this
watershed in the process.
Well, what d’you reckon they made of that?
Sage and prudent, perhaps
A bit gushing, retreat
In the face of hassle?
Then again there may be
Ideological or
Theological blocks.
One cannot discount
Sheer cowardice in
The face of the enemy.
Then there is the absence
Of teeth to be taken
Into consideration.
February 2, 2015
Trebarwith
Seaswept
wave big
siblings
paddling
heaven’s
crested
strand
February 2, 2015
Clockularity
I saw her on my morning
The middle of her night
Blocking the toilet in
Hospital light
I will see her later on
On her morning
And we will argue
about fuck all
This evening in the middle
Of her day
The washing machine will
Stop me from napping
We will eat supper for lunch
And I will dream of
Thermo-Nuclear War
January 31, 2015
The Subtle Nature of Worsted
Saturday night
& I ain’t
Got
no
body
Must have dropped it
In Fiona’s
Vestibule
On the way
Here
Grimbeau 