Grimbeau

Scribbles

Isis

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Just earlier,

Tomorrow

Bavid Dutine,

Decal smoother,

Said this to

unto me…

You are nearly a mural

Outrage!

Methunk

Of course,

I hit him with a passing Zucchini

& asked him:

Is this really any way to buy

Gas?

 

Housework

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Lunch upon

time used

every second

fecund

Sporting matching

bonnet and black, baggy

jumper.

Sweaty, seedy boxers,

and fresh Homer slippers.

Ready for inaction.

Frost

promised,

don elastic

cotton vambrace,

the day begins.

 

Lie, Bore…Tea?

cKyaq0I

 

Connives

me,

Connives

me not.

Connives

me!

Mondrian Bungee

A view of the intersection at 5th Avenue and 42nd Street

Shorter

days means shorter lives.

Shorter

hours means shorter drives.

 

I scream man…

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Child ran out

excited with lolly, hit by car,

did not see, did not look,

hit and run,

ambulance,

call the cops…

 

…blood on road, rage and blame,

no punters,

don’t push it,

show respect,

after all,

under the circumstances,

no you don’t!

 

Just keep stumm,

play doggo, wait for cops,

not my day, never is,

seventeen nineties, fourteen nines…

 

To Your Health

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People that

Live in

stone

 

Houses ought

Not throw

glasses

Samantha

 

s7ypk-d2y-150x100

 

 

Willow pith of  day

the slow chew,

stranded and dry,

 

just a whisper

of zest,

nearly a memory

or a whim.

 

A violin feeds

its newborn

villagers growl

at still

blue trucks,

 

the hedge wilts

orange wind noise,

washing line tilts

hysterical dervish

wishes for wishes

Snug?

 

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Ate and was

on my own

faraway

lackaday

blownaway

Comfy Love?

Big thing asks

me questions – why?

Windshine

Shush-hours

Perfection!

Quote…Unquote follows

So do I?

Yes, I am cold.

How did you guess?

So, to bed after

food and fumigation.

The heavens

piss stones.

An internet crashes.

I get up

A head of steam

radio

Take it Easy…But take it!

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Richard & Alexander

nastya-kaletkina

 

So…

It is not clever to be clever Dick

It is not smart to be smart Alec

 

And…

It is not clever to be smart Dick

It is not smart to be clever Alec

Or…

It is not smart to be clever Dick

It is not clever to be smart Alec

 

 

Whatever became of Dick & Alec:

Tragicomic or Comitragic?

Gloamlight

zkMckFv

Dusk come dark

drapes half drawn

Hear a bark

feel a yawn

The Shaping Forecast

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…& more sleep.

 

Got stuck in slough slow bowls,

a stray sky blue smurf sought my company;

fleeting scalpel sunshaft burst

fairly snapped me out.

 

Make decisions for soul provisions – finance pimples as ever.

Monday’s food is Sunday’s mood.

Trying to loosen, and keep loose,

neck and shoulders.

 

Right arm troubled.

Go with the pain, pleads the pain.

No dreams just fleeting night moods, wafts,

misted fiats coloured

greyblue, greenish, mushy.

 

Sea White

see-through shadows

Ectofilmstars;

uncast off, harboured beyond sleep,

half-waked.

Bay low voices mumble, whisper:

Get up and water the source

 

The Myth of Self-Combustion Exploded

Jean_Metzinger,_1911,_Etude_pour_le_portrait_de_Guillaume_Apollinaire,_Mine_graphite_sur_papier_vergé_rose,_48_x_31.2_cm,_Musée_national_d'Art_moderne,_Centre_Georges_Pompidou,_Paris

Scraped enough

 

together

for a pipe.

 

Skin wild.

Must shower & cream.

Day goes grey

 

Skin mild.

Did shower & cream.

Day goes by.

 

Forgot that my mornings

are now free of idiots,

especially Sunday idiots

like me

 

Test Match: Sunday Start Shock!

  • Sin against nature, I say…What, what?

Wrinkled Member explodes

in Long Room

Dull thud in Norwood

Nearly wakes the dead

& the living dead.

 

 

Kismet

shocking-old-photos-11

Where’s

a place for us?

There’s

no place for us,

Nowhere

no place for us.

Take my hand

Sit and stare

Take my hand

Share your fear

 

We’ll find

a new way of dying

We’ll find

a new way of crying

 

No time,

No hope

No rhyme.

Summer Brieze

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Sid crows, demi-dawn, cool night breeze folds,

falls from fan.

Remnants remain: crusted, polythene grass;

stale tobacco;

grand damned poems;

the truce is over, the murder is resumed.

Back to where it all began, square one squared,

one more dance, duplicated dalliance.

So the day is done. The same old same old

Step out hand in hand in

Vellum gloves

Quashed Tomato

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Unreal night

blood damp black

on sun-drenched  grass.

No buttercups grow in

Iguana hours: stone dead cicadas

Pop! One more skin shed.

For sale:

A cider press;

Zealous owner.

 

Time thwitels away,

stops some clocks,

breaks all rocks.

Under moon

The garden blooms.

Thwarts & All.

A Beast

Goya_y_Lucientes_Francisco_de-Black_Paintings_Saturn_Devouring_One_of_his_Chidren

Starving

savaged anchovy,

ravaged dry

baguette,

tore off a sockful,

wrapped up shredded limb

 

A bloodless coup d’ pan complete…

till later:

 

Part-sated, basking in its modest cranny,

the predator lowers, rests ruminant,

still wanting, just waiting, inhaling, whittling.

…it ain’t no sin

The Poor Poet by Carl Spitzweg

 

The deep, odd, shock of it hit me in the sun

On the shed path, marooned on a concrete crack

Freed up took in the scene, shocked, turned;

Trundled, older, balder, back up the ramp

Freewheeled, calmer, silent, down the ramp

Came to rest beside the stable table,

Tossed my hair (singular) in the blue breeze

And wiped the puss from Barney’s weeping souls.

The moo-cows are gone home to roast

No more mutinous idiots barge in

Decide to play this game of life to win

Sanguine Time

Bin Dong

The first of the few,

the last of the many,

the next or

the runner-up,

the second last bar none

the rising of the moon

at the setting of the sun

under cypress shadows

wise chrysanthemum

 

 

Sunday Drivers

dlaKZM9

Freaks out,

Cauli’s out early

too,

much ado

about garden,

inside

Chopin mazurks

On a croissant

Something lurks above

A dove with a glove

A weasel with an easel

In the murk…

 

Whispers

A defecating sperm whale off the coast of Sri Lanka.

the whisper of the sea

around the balustrade

the whistle of the sea

cast me in this mystery?

this is the

start of history

a whisper of the sea,

around the balustrade.

 

A Flea

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Melancholy

Flea

Melancholy

Knee,

Woe is me,

Anatomy

Giant flea,

Hook

Swatted whopper,

splattered it,

squashed it

on

scruff, ruff

with my giant thumb,

shadow of its former self,

a bloody, sticky mess.

 

 

Cake House Rules

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Find a strange land,

concrete, not a fancy,

Not a nation,

 

Nor a state or both,

where confusion breeds

dissemblance and misery.

 

A realm glimpsed,

enjoyed only without torment,

or opposing the beast.

 

Secure and safe, warm and dry,

without fear or favour.

Impossible! That can never be.

 

Whorled walnut tree

Makes the sticks

The brickburner supplies the bricks.

 

Top Hat!

Zog

Al Boley

fills gas

lamp mantle

a tin, eerie

bacolite mantle,

Woodbine romance

Shall we dance?

 

Syncopated Agatha;

Anglepoise, equipose,

Lachrymose quaques.

 

Crackle and ivory,

drum brush, Dapper Dan,

tuxedo, savoy, suave, class, pure class, lush…

 

rubber corsets on flaccid flappers,

inner tube condoms,

PJ Perelman, art deco, echo chamber

commemorations, abdications, league of nations,

pylon poets, silver screens, Teruel,

Abyssinia, King Zog, King Kong,

concierge, demi-urge, debutantes, ants-in-pants…

 

Popular Fronts, Fascist Cunts, Micky Mouse,

The uniformed doorman at the Picture House

Primo Carnero, Bonnie, Clyde, Lassie

Armstrong Siddeley, broken chassis

Spikes, louses, blouses, dames in trousers

 

Pathe  Newsreels, nudists, sandalled Buddhists,

Caddying for Tony Locke, spats, Schneider Trophy

No nightingales in Berkeley Square, just martingales,

 

 

 

 

 

Swamp Song

 

Untitled

 

…hear road spray surge

Saturday morning shipping

muggy, sticky, sweaty,

laurel oil shining

 

yellow, yellow flower,

slug and nomad,

fennel sags and drips,

splashing,

 

plushing the petrichor,

boney, stony, earthly delight

sigh and swoon

Sun and Moon

The Bagpiper

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He piped the music slow, careful.

Buzzing,

buzz, buzz, buzz

 

Not on my nose!

Don’t land…

 

Too late.

 

Freeze, Mr. Piper, or the nose gets it.

 

Sweatbeads: adrenalin: tremble.

 

Try a blow? Little up draught.

Macroscopia.

Make small big.

Blow responsibly.

 

Music is oozing from the nozzle,

mauve music magma.

Blow now!

Blew

 

Sting, recoil,

drop music funnel

notes splatter cake.

Eyes flood

Half blind.

Grab, miss, panic

cake on floor…

 

…nose throbs, cross eyes

purple lump.

 

Buzz gone, job done,

fact of life

 

 

 

 

 

Silence of the Hens

mike

 

Clouds bed

down easy

The chooks

make hush,

 

Throttled,

twoggled:

 

Nessum

Dorma

Chicken

Korma

Giblets at Pyre

 

 

We’ll begin at midnight
When you have time you have liberty

Apollinaire

 

Noon & Nixpence

Meagre sleep

in tranceful, graceles woe,

pursued by evil minded lambs,

surrounded by the hurt and hapless.

 

These things I sink below,

subsumed in dread.

This is the blue blue blues:

heavy fug,

turn world upside down,

shake it down.

 

dandruff and wonga sprinkle

earth skin, cluster and choke.

Bad air day.

Solace: not alone.

United we sit,

divided we lie.

 

 

nightwood

IEmAlh

Clouds sure foreground

Dark and light:

Everchanging

 

Outwith night

Enabled, moonless

Mountebanks

 

Sticklers, wreckers, hoods

Eat bread & drip

Dry

 

 

 

…turn over an old leaf

 

two rooms and garden

A good evening

all in all.

Neither short

nor tall.

Just right.

Like

Spaniel ears

Or

Tapwater

 

 

 

The Beach Boys

Fuzzer

 

Just picture

Over there

 

In that corner

A grand piano

 

Made of Blood

Fresh Olive

 

Slaughtered

Beachboys

Loophole

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Surly, vexed, mumbling, bumbling,

swallowing down bile and spleen

a small bird hops past on the sill!

 

A fair coin tossed.

Whist!

A farced chant, grumbling like an alp.

 

Shannon mare dream

Shrill oboe scream:

Hector! Hold your horses.

 

The kettle’s finished boiling.

The past will someday

be the same again.

Alfresco

neale one

 

Let us

Lay.

Is Samarkand

Pink Samarkand

Under those dishes?

 

There!

I see

golden onion domes,

rippled & various,

Serrate deep blue.

 

Above

Kites float

perusing plump shrew

on perfect thermals,

circling empty biplanes

Nanette

 

portrait of a Sicilian girl

She

Yellow

Cowled,  pock-marked

Pale chuff faced,

Sidles,

Stumbles

Ghostly

Inside Chapel Cell,

Her Holy hidey-hole,

Up the duff,

recently gin & needled

 

She

dropped like a sock,

and in that drop got

relegated,

denigrated,

emasculated from Herstory,

babeless scrawl on nameless wall.

No net

you see:

no more net

Nanette.

Great White Pass On By

plunge

Shoulder roller

Savonarola

swimming backwards

In shirt infested waters.

Pause for Jaws:

Basking post-prandial,

Replete of:

Bellyful of Quint,

skinny dipper,

Stray Daytripper,

clumsy nipper.

My luck is in!

Time to try

Some butterfly

 

 

Escape Velocity

shocking-old-photos-39

The power set at constant max

Mind’s Eye emerges from start surge to

pure pace

 

A golden arrow flashes darting past.

Lee J Cobb. Wrong Cobb. Donald?

No, that was Campbell.

 

Google it, live & learn.

Pull the search engine up,

load it with a boulder, wind it up, and release.

 

Downwind we hear

no screams or impact

As if it never happened

 

Jesters at Vespers

chag3

After Sylvester evensong, Loyola piped up:

‘Out with the Pianola!’

And

(As Nasturtiums have for donkey’s years)

We were ready to kick out the jambs

The Easter Lambs & heaven could wait a quarter

Priscilla the Pig, our Abbot, dressed as Emile Zola

Got the  ball rolling with the much lauded Tombola.

 

A fine thing, like some tradition,

The Tombola of the Tropaeolum:

 

We put our Bull into a hat

Pull out the winner

And a new year

Doctrine is chosen

A fresh true rumour

To add to the credo

This is followed by

A game of sardines

An eternal favourite

 

 

 

Factory Records

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I

have neither direct pictorial

nor documentary evidence for it,

my first quarter on earth,

except

what those directly involved have told me,

confirmed by their satellites.

 

All a bit vague if you think about it

 

The first thought is adoption,

the second hospital error,

third,

unwanted from a relative or neighbour;

alien invasion,

Son of God,

& Timewarps

follow once you start.

(At least it was not Shandy Hall and its annoying horology).

 

I

did see my mum from time to time

in her incubated space.

She smiled from hollow cheeks

fought the maggots eating the belly wound

from where I had been sprung.

 

My dad was shy and did not get pushy

about seeing me till things calmed down a bit.

He did not pick me up and rock me till we got home:

After he did I never cried again, it is said.

 

Bear Dreams

buL9Ygv

 

Slumbered awhile,

Wee sunny spell,

Sleepy glimpse

 

Tucked up flurry

eider-down duvet,

Mink stole furor.

 

Purr as a bear purrs.

Growl meets rumble:

 

Grumbles

Rum Bellows

Pelaton!

A woman crossing a stile after the flooding in the Thames Valley, December 1915

 

Galactic dawn,

wet as water:

Ponds ’r’ Us!

Like a mucky duck

the weatherman

walks on warm, thin ice,

looking up anxiously

 

Sees

serene green scene

creams obscene

at tulips pouting,

kind epileptic fish,

sanguine potholed saucepans

latterday Saturday vertebrae.

Endless list: catalyst.

 

We swoon,

shrug it off,

embrace

&

turnover leaves

 

 

 

 

Truth

Head of

Head of

The essential difficulty with Mssr Grimbeau’s

pomes is  that they are crap & drivel

 

Clap-clap!

 

self-knowledge is

a wonderful thing.

A Bird: tender & anxious

 

you-small

 

Soft…

What light

Through yonder

Window breaks?

 

Ssssh!

 

Merely

A wayward

Cormorant

 

Called Deirdre

 

Or so I heard

 

 

 

Angleterre

 

unlikely-1

When I once sat upon a bench

I felt that I was almost French

Byrdsongs

Talk is Buses:

Pubic transport

Greenline fine?

Not grotesque

But Divine

 

Spudmark

Qualm

hatstan

Freaky vibes, cold, shivery.

On the brightest day it gets dark,

extreme breeds extreme,

bipolar is not an axis,

no high or low

like prices or buildings,

it is unproscribable.

There are no absolutes

Just givens.

Warmer now.

El Syd

tumblr_n3g57kPDfa1qm0ax3o1_500

Mood Impetigo:

Rose petal

Spikenard.

 

Taking Town Drain

Clueless

Bubo Black

Tuba

 

 

Whimball Grooves

tumblr_n3r5xqJYhH1r855nqo1_500

Fresh, smooth,

honey enthrals me

floats me

casts me off .

 

Pork chops, bud planting  proposed:

hope springs eternal.

Farce of habit.

 

No scruples,

too forced lately,

going to work for its ownsake.

 

Leave it to settle, Mr Pushy-Git for

‘You cannot manage

what you cannot measure.’

Love?

10cc…comes in spurts.

Henless heads, dustbin laden.

Pot posits kettle:

‘You are black.’

Read and rest

after aftershocks.

Lux and lug.

Whimball grooves.

 

Write Terse Block

shbcF

Stories swim amorphous, like Chagall sprites:

teasing & taunting, winding me rightup,

 

shitty harpies, chicken livers, shit lilies,

pallet knife smears, chaff and ribwort, fly blight,

 

wormcast, hot iron in the hole.

Answer: stop poetising, not everything.

 

Opaque craving: not waving, just raving.

Lunchlines. Lasagne to go; no salad leaves!

 

All are suspects. Whatdunnit? Poison milk,

Croak & Crosswell. Condensed gift:

 

dilute & quaff off this myrtle quoit.

Late, great Spooner. Leave oxtail by town drain.

 

Quit the spritz, Turd policeman.

Bottom inspectors of the world: ignite!

 

Social lurkers, shadow shams. Now you see:

Now! You donut. Dream of scrumptiousness,

 

crack of doom. Dunderhead heard: Thunderbird said:

“Five minutes & we’re almost there.”

 

Slobbo

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the easy way out dogs my every step -

I call it Slobbo.

It is a shadow,

reeks of burgers and pickles,

farts and burps at will,

drinks like a trooper,

smokes like a fish.

 

it is white at night.

it sings, shouts, and staggers then.

 

I watch it from my

silken hammock

fuming

 

 

as i rolled out…

poly

Elegiac:

it rolled out one summer’s morning,

thick roll-up in one hand

tar strong coffee in the other,

halted atop the ramp

to take dappled light

took this picture:

green wheelbarrow homes

old yellow milkcrate

left side of

giant cypress treetrunk;

three paving slabs

lean leftside

propping up three

intact mauve

plastic sacks

(compost) .

Generally the earth is parched grey, arid, and ill lit.

This is a gravelly land, conifers did well here till

the buildings cropped up to replace them.

Down the hill is a loamy valley, which floods a lot.

These were the fields where the villagers

who lived up here in the pinewoods worked.

It is called Clayhill

Holy Cow

Holy Cow.

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