FragLit

an online magazine of fragmentary writing

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Solitude

Spring 2010 :: Current Issue

Squibs and Crackers: Nonsense

Kimble James Greenwood

Ladies in the lavatory
Dogs in the basket
Ask me, ask me,
How shall I mask it?

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He dips and dingles,
dangles and drags
through the ripest
of rotten reaches,

never so much
as a knot to nag,
nod most to what
most teaches.

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All dis time ‘e lay on de boat
Gib ‘is soul to de billy goat

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Call me up and curdle
Sweet dithers in my ear

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Mid knockabout
and the no news

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Alas a lass
a little lass

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The rot and dreck
of retch and wreck

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I remember mama-yama
She remembers me
We’re all alive, we dance the jive
As far as we can see O
As far as we can see

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The shake, the shack
The tempered sack
The golden groans
of Ganymede

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Fresh from the deconstructionist wars,
Retrieval from the maze
Glory in the bowderlized
Brings on daemon days

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Dasein’s design

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It is dark and the harried hounds of the lord
Bay at the back of heaven’s gate.
A wayward moon is mad in the east,
All shadows celebrate!

Who is the lad in pepper green—
Shit for a saddle, stamm’ring there?
Speak up l’il spittle, there whittling your fiddle,
Speak up and out so we will hear!

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Angling for a mangling

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His is the throne on which he sits
An arrogantly manic man

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Leave it to believe her

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Pray for the release
of the queer queen’s niece,
a woman among mad men,
found following Abdul Akbar,
a famous Bedouin.

They told the tale in Taminy Hall,
it was a tale twice told.

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A species of feces

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Here comes Betty with a baby in her belly.
Carve your own bone buttons.

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The Bandalong eschew
Bad bamboo, do you?

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He can tick, he can tock
He can tell you all about it
He can tell you all about it
If you really want to know.

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Two tofu makers too

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He sees, he says.
He says he sees.
Sees what?
Well ask him if you please.

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Fishing for a wish dish
Allegory cop-top

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Co-a-lition
Holy hard attrition
Degradation
This is what we do.

Do you like to escalate?
Yes we like to escalate!
Don’t pull out!
Don’t pull out!
This is what we do.

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Directly the mockery,
dickery dockery,
swept her island clean.

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The buzzard in the blizzard

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How stupid, how steeped
in folly and mire,
how ridiculous, wretched and wrong!

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It is, we feel, her sex appeal
that makes for cakes and ices.
A nodding hum to devildom,
all heady haunts and spices.

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How many mad moons
had I been under,
lost in lissome turpitude?

A chance regret, a reason yet
a madness in the magnitude.

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All things black and blasphemous
All knee-jerks greatly small
All satchels sewn in patches
The Old Gourd laid them all

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The night went by without a flag,
the day without decree

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I witness endless witlessness

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Convalescent, wholly opalescent

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Whether the weather
is ever so clever
as to hurry the harried along

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Various nefarious
designs and demeanors

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Mondo Cane
Nose is runny
Needle in the skin

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What a crank
Sink the shank
What do you believe?

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Knick knack
Spazz attack
Call your next of kin

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Meet me in the ally, Elly

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Nerve us
Groove us
Hurdle and pew

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When half the ganglion gloom was groomed
And half the blear begirt,
A middling man with trenchant tan
Sold parcels packed with dirt.

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A maudlin man, a manikin
He wears his fetters well.
A half beat on the measure
A hyacinth for hell.

Where have you gone my bawdy boy?
Where have you plucked the feather?
Says he’s been to the Vatican,
Says he’s been under the weather.

I don’t know. He’s a card,
A wild card no one knows.
Careful his demeanor,
Careless ebbs and flows.

Ho. Woe. Take it in.
It all comes down to a point.

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A car has lost its hub,
And three quarters of its crew,
Without its holy rollies,
What shall that car do?

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I dangled my dingles
to tingle her tangles,
a happy couple we, I see,
a happy couple we.

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Be brazen little hussy
And fork the feathered tree.
A midden for your maidenhood,
a bonnet for a bee.

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Hide and seek
Tweek a geek
Protect me from
the mild and meek

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House of dreams
House of cards
A cross between
the cones and rods

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A hospital is a cheery place,
flowers everywhere!
Patrons in pastel colors.
Matrons in their birthing rooms,
babies on display.

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Hundra Cadenza
Howler of whore

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Hot or not
time forgot
the crackerjack poet
of polyglot.

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Jack and Jill quaffed bitter pills
washed down with acrid water

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I’m a golden king
See what I bring
to the table where you sit:
an onyx bowl
three quarters full,
the bitter brine
of adamantine…

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I’m a grand old apple
all bruised and broad,
a granny and a dame,
I’ve lived a loose and loopy life,
living infame.

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“I’m old, dull, and full of bull.”

“Would you take me as your wife?
I handle handles handily.
I’m murder with a knife.”

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Unremitting
Hard as ashes caked with lime

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Sore as a bone store,
twice as dicey

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Are you sure you’re short of sugar,
or is sugar short of you?

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There’s a big black bug
in the bottom of the box,
the box on the bed for two

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A stroll with a troll

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The genome of a gnome.
(Gnome Chomsky)

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A compatible crew,
a baboon or two,
a horripulated dish.

Kinetic instability,
frenetic facility,
a window for a wish.

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A car full of careful dissidents

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It’s hard to massage a rock.
By definition it’s so.
I’d rather strip bark from an aardvark
who had nowhere to go.

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In the voice of Baudelaire
I called him mon frere.
He turned the other cheek
So I smote him.

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Wednesday in the Western world,
soft as a sack I walk in the rain.

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The seeds fall forth, fall free, fall flush
Spring sprang from all restraint.
Lust, laugh, love, long for
found felicity’s first blush,
A satyr from a saint.

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A conundrum of close encounters,
a peculiar place to be.

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Fat by half
and dumb by whole

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Happy Days, the freedom fighter,
found me in the corn,
where I had gone to gather sea-weed,
blown there by the storm.

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I’m a meandering monk,
a maundering moon-head,
a smile of curdled milk.
I live alone in the drafty barn
with others of my ilk.

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If you’ve ever tried to sweep a noodle
You’d know a noodle doesn’t sweep.

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He bats an eye,
He bangs a head.
He shines a shivaree.

He’s apoplexy reified,
a pot of potpourri.

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If it is, you say, from Paraguay,
a true mimetic form…

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She was a head on a stick,
Bird on a limb,
Closer to sinners than seraphim;
Salted to lose,
Sequestered and tense,
Oblivious to commerce
and common sense.

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As sore as a whore
being gored by a bore

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Here, said she, a sodden flag
demarks a hidden drive

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I’m a turkey taco man,
talkin’ turkey, understan’?

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It happens by happenstance
What can we do?
To force it is facetious,
ungenuine too.

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Hide your vodka in a parka,
Your purpose in a park.

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She was a booty girl,
North of necessity.

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I’d be happy as a barrel
I’d be thin as Mia Farrow
if I only had a brain…

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Crank up the crackdown on corporate crime

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The fax isn’t faxing,
it’s simply relaxing,
which is more than I can afford to do

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