Genesises

the world turns in its grave.
an ark sails round the sun.
on its deck a forest.

on the ark's decayed deck
sits a blue boned Reaper,
nursing a weary scythe.

the scythe's dead, stony blade,
made from a slain Zu’s beak,
seems to come back to life.

terracotta apes charge,
their war drums beating fast,
death, their repercussions.

Grim's battle crows take flight.
Grim stands, clad in a cloak
a plucked Zu’s feather cloak.

Grim’s scythe blindly slashes;
the slain apes' souls echo,
screaming through the blade's flutes.

music flees the graveyard;
Grim sleeps under decay
till the gods' next opus.

the world turns in its grave.
an ark sails round the sun.
on its deck a city.

a twisted steel jungle,
glass tube intestine vines,
fake crap smothers the deck.

the gods have been captured,
kept in museum temples,
their names taken in vain.

Grim is now just a drug,
a synthetic death pill,
sold on dark street corners.

going overboard notes
litter the ark's sealed decks;
scavenger drones take flight.

the world turns in its grave.
an ark sails round the sun.
Its deck, just a black hole.

©bg 2026

Soleless Old Boots

Old Roo fills his pouch with tobacco,
rides a black mobility scooter.
his battery-fueled steed,
with a custom saddle,
down to the saloon as bells toll noon.

Old Roo fills his pipe with tobacco,
drinks his Jack from a shot-up tin mug.
searches for a lost light,
stares at empty bottles,
chuckles as memories swagger bye.

Old Roo turns an arm that had a name
cancer took his inked loved one away.
he kept his bony arm,
but lost the hand it held;
now the end of his world is at hand.

Old Roo fills his mouth with stale peanuts,
sculls back fumes from a shot-up tin mug.
drops his pipe full of dreams,
spits out what time paid him
blue toes curl up in his soulless boots.

Old Roo fills his box with a sin sack,
embalmed with token prayers and taped hymns.
then a wake of sod off
all falls on his dead ears,
then, as in life, he waits to be tossed...
OUT!

© bg 2026

Riches to Rags

Rags sliced his gut east to west,
muttering, “It’s for the best.”
the mage pulled his entrails out
Plop! Splash!

Damballa lay in star dust,
coiled up, about to combust.
Rags smoked some loud dynamite
Ka-boom!

they pulled a sheet over Rags,
they put his entrails in bags.
the yin-yang pendulum struck
Cuc   koo!

boiled milk sat forming a skin,
boiled egg contained easter's sin.
Demiurge whistled a cab
Fweeeet-fwooo!

the driver was a rabbit,
who said, “Ain’t life a gambit?”
Demiurge took out a gun
BANG! BANG!

a pot of black tea went cold,
it grew blotches of white mold.
the old hermit poured it out
Plopsh! Splosh!

beneath brewed black tea-storm skies,
Rags sat inside the locked gates,
plucking hares out of his nose
Twang... thump!

Rags pined for majickal days,
when golden rum fueled his bones,
and gods weren’t shooting at him
Pew! Pew!

pus-spewing hares leapt skyward,
forming white mold cloud blotches.
“All day long,” Demiurge grinned
Pew! Pew!

a distant figure dug graves,
the wind blew his top hat off.
a box-spring grey hare sprung up
Boing... thud!

©bg 2026

the dealer

across the road a rooster makes noise.
cars pull up to buy the neighbours drugs.
the roosters off his head
on scrambled cut cocaine
chicks walk on egg shells to get his drugs

©bg 2026

I asked the Good Lord blues

(Spoken Intro)
"You know, Mr. Bartender... my prayers cost me a tithe of my life."

I did ask the good lord for a good woman
I did ask the good lord for a good woman
But she came with darn socks, from her dead old man

For thirteen odd years I gave her my short life
For thirteen odd years I wasated my short life
Now in my back, the good lord stuck a bread knife

They say Thirteen’s as unlucky as the poxs
They say Thirteen’s as unholy as the poxs
Lord I wasted me time, pullin' up dem socks

They say drink and whores are a waste of my life
They say drink and whores are a waste of my life
But drink and whores, never caused me no darn strife

It’s all right good lord I guess you weren’t to know
It’s all right good lord I knows you weren’t to know
Life just doesn't go as you plan, cause it blows

Hey lord could you look after my honey’s chores
Hey lord could you take care of my honey’s chores
Cause I’m in hell, with the spicy rum and whores

(Spoken Outro)
"Well, Bartee, that's me... I gotta go. Did you say down the stairs and hang a left?"

©bg 2026

Authors notes -socks meaning is the acronym s.o.c.k,(some others cocks kids) ,should be read as socks. Works with socks traditional meaning as well.  

The Trinity

there's a wraith walking the wasteland
dogging tumbleweed herds.
light bleeds through clouds,
puppet sinews,
trying to raise up bones
of the fallen firmament wyrms.

prophets, poets.
angels, devils.
mirror glass soulscraper towers.
reflecting light,
hypnotised eyes.

Shade once dwelled in the living world,
Within the moving soulscrapers,
Till the impact;
glass shattering,
illusions crushed to dust
Shade's needle face in spoon’s deep dish.

chrome drum snares shhhh.
church Bells echo.
husks hang wingless from the belfry.
streams carry clouds.
planes glide through waves.

wraiths fall into the wasteland lakes,
the canvas absorbs blood.
beacon coffins
burn on the shore.
in the fire’s ruins
ash jinns danced and fiddled till dawn.

silver screen screams
act out horrors
at the end of infinities void.
on a flat screen
intermission.

from beneath a rock Shade did rise
to stretch, yawn at the dawn.
a light wind swept
a snake path west;
like a strung out raindog,
shade’s dreaming nose took to the path.

time's music waxed;
time's rhythm waned,
forming maze-like twisting valleys.
high crescendos.
storm-washed out flats.

Shade came out off a carved valley
following a goat's track.
his leather lips
cracked, split—burnt logs
whispered a worn-out song
to feed the dim glued at his heel.

fallen raindrops
kicked up dust flies.
gurgling of a strangled stream.
lightning scars sky.
guitar strings snap.

a burnt shacks threshold sheltered Shade,
a stone pipe clamped between
his teeth of gum.
puddles eyed him
from the shacks sunk graveyard
where the dim dug up past falsehoods.

Thor hands slow clap.
Zombie stream runs.
Pan plays his tunes wildly through stumps.
Car cymbals crash!
Sirens, horns, shout!

into the pipe Shade thumbed baccy,
watching mudslides snake by.
Shade lit the pipe
to mask the stench
of defecated mud
bubbling, popping in a cauldron
as he kicked worms off worn skin boots.

blood thirsty heart
beats destruction.
oars slap the firmament surface.
Atum’s tears fall,
fist pounding mud.

looking up Shade saw a prophet rise,
a giggling behemoth,
green bugs running
out his nose
while his wet puckered skin
slithered over chained rusty bones.

chattering teeth
playing a harp.
skeletons march in shining arms.
bone siege towers
clad in bronze shields.
radio fuzz.

“seems your lost dims found your rib cage
i’ll get him when you fade
not long now Shade!
memories die
in rotting mushy heads “
spat Behemoth’s thoughts at Shade's face.

blending opaque
brass ball bearings.
roulette's tortuous wheel spins red.
jaws of life grunting,
Limbs snapping!

the giggling prophet slipped in slime;
dim dragged the mad chain corpse
from its pay dirt.
Shade caved the skull
under his worn out heel
as the snaking bones were dragged past.

furnace flames roar
gurney wheels squeal
drunk punched boxer shadow dances.
ring bell clanging.
chainsaw voice drones.

Shade stumbled into the burnt shack,
knocking out the pipes ash,
for his weary
mush heads pillow,
as Nott weaved him a sheet
Shade swore he heard a chalk gurney.

chisel hammered.
stone is chiselled.
t.v static as snowman falls.
sleighed bells jingle.
bugles last post.

Nott’s mare threw him into a pit;
flames flayed Shade's crackling skin.
totem god mugs
drunk the drippings
from their cursed worshippers
foil drip-tray alms collecting hats.

rock clanks on glass.
tinkling glass shards.
doves crash-landing on iron roof.
broom swishes flies.
angry flies buzz.

Shade woke bathed in splintered light rays.
in the broken glass frame
he saw sitting
at a cave’s maw
the head of an old wyrm
nuzzling a headless patched robed pawn.

kettle whistles.
water babbles.
Old Nott silently reads tea leaves.
pages flutter.
Coyote pants.

Shade spiked his head on Pawn's wrung neck;
Pawn’s smile whispered a name.
at his stitched feet,
Shade had laid down
heaving as if he sobbed.
Dim then howled at his Savior.

©bg 2026

the egg’s yoke

pluck the hatchling sun rise
from a rotten egg shell.
the drunk ape sleeps snug in the moon's cradle.
the cloakmaker asks who will wake my child,
the ibis or the goose?

on a sunk rotten ark
a barnacle hatches.
the drunk ape climbs a tree to grasp the sun.
the fisherman caste blessed nets over
the ibis or the goose?

on an anchor’s chained rope
hung a poisoned egg shell.
a blue bull sat guarding a dying tree.
the inventor built totems resembling
the ibis or the goose?

from a rotten egg shell
rose a poppet on fire.
the bull sits meditating in a cave.
the spaceman plants a blue flag to signal
the ibis or the goose?

a cracked egg shell remains
laid on a broken scale.
the fattened bull builds an altar from bones.
the savant burns down a forest to cook
the ibis or the goose?

laid on a broken scale
slept a burnt out poppet.
the drunk ape dreams his heart is a feather.
the assassin from a dew filled horn serves
the ibis or the goose?

laid on a burnt poppet
sat a scale's broken yoke.
the minotaur takes off his shoes to eat.
the undertaker asks what's in the hole,
the ibis or the goose?

©bg 2026

An Account

sitting in my ol’ red bomb smoking
out in the country lost in daydreams
no crossroads in my sights
flask of dark rum to swig
in between puffing out clouds of smoke

prehistoric tractor ploughs a field
a scarecrow trails behind with a scythe
the tractor runs in ruts
jack-o'-lanterns' eyes die
as the tractor stalled in potter's field

the land turned grey as a stormy sky
ash rained down from the fiery heavens
zombie vermin cupids
swarm across the heartland
a scarecrow swigs his scythe at the flies

standing defiant before his doom
a hail of bane arrows raining down
ratty straw hair ablaze
broomstick legs stuck in ruts
that followed in the dead tractor's wake.

The nothingness filled with famine falls
Nobodaddy buries his straw ghoul
birds feast on struggling worms
sheep graze on distant hills
a scarecrow shepherd chews a grass stem

theatrics in a tranquil landscape
would i believe my taxing account
the last chapter or verse
of life on the third rock
ere it’s swallowed by a red giant

my pipe’s smoky music extinguished
and with the dregs rattling in the flask
i cranked over the bomb
smashed Thor's old hammer down
leaving a cloud of smoky dust behind

©bg 2026

dust specs

abandoned on a legless, surfed couch
the couch sitting on a grim-faced cliff
bottles still spinning spew
on a felled forest floor
i can see the sun drowning ocean

exiled on a dream-soaked chopping block
the block whittled bye a guillotine
bottles choke on wood chips
unpalatable past
i can see the wood piles composting

asleep on a roughsawn, see-saw plank
dunking in and out of waves at sea
bottles circling the raft
burley tempting the fish
I can see the rain stranded desert

tangled within a barbed tumbleweed
bleeding a trail of rusty blood west
bottles gather in dumps
discarded broken shells
i can see the furnace grates open

hanging on a rotating clothesline
bent shadow arms of a sundial
bottles form an hour-glass
gravity fills an urn
i can see the wind mourn over dust

©bg 2026

Binface vs farage make your vote Count

the trashcan bard endorses binface
poms closest being to a knight they have
may jokes dethrone farage
the autocrat's puppet
may the mighty pen strike the ballot

©bg 2026

Photograph: Getty Images