gurney racing

you’re a suitcase pilot
beer goggles
bulging
out your bloodshot eyes

as you sits

strapped down

on a racing
bronze gurney

speeding down a corridor
swish swish
smashing
crashing
through glass panes
of
blinding splinted light
separated
only by
the sticky gooey emptiness
of chaos
which
smells of blue cheese

between
ragged exhausted breaths
rum shots
and
strong coffee
you gets over
the
Finish tape
that
always
trips
another gurney race
to start
as it rains
toe tag filled
fortune cookies

exhausted

the continuous

insomniac race’s 

feel rigged

lost already

even
as
onwards
one races
while
crowds of portraits
cheer you on
with their silent stares
the
wreaths of flowers
framing
their let down
party balloon
faces
blooming
with
helium filled maggots

inside
you’re so constipated
with lies
old faded costumes

myths

all 
tied up in knot
twisted
intestines
that
you just fill with
shitty
memorabilia
from
earlier races
triumphs
that one can’t
dump

victories
you only remember
in eye watering
smelly
sticky
poisonous
gas
bubbles
escaping
your
gimp mask zipper

the pasts
balled up
winning grundies
old manky
sweat stains
have taken on
the rank smell
of
formaldehyde
while tumors
fill the
space
you’d left
for your next
races
trophies

the gurney
clatter’s
and
rattles
bouncing
down stairs
one
never evolved
to climb

yet
one last
resilient thought
exist

one
was only
ever forged
upon the gurney
to ride
down
life’s collapsing
falling
sky scrapers
puerile
propaganda tagged
spored
corridors

as a sacrifice

hell
another finish line
approaches
one can hear
the almighty roar
of
the crowd
one
can feel their heated
breath
leap out

flames from a furnace

cracking
ones
leather casing
heroically
vainly
onwards
towards
the
gates
off
the
screaming
groaning
suffering
bowels
of
Tartarus

©bg 2017

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lost within

Relegate
those wretched thoughts
That so torment
my mind
With Angry images
That germinate
As gorse
across a pristine
Panoramic view
Till their thorns
tattoo
bleeding Misery
into my eyes

I turn in blind panic
fleeing
To the past
To recall
fleeting visions
Of days
soaked in tranquillity
But
the flooded lands
are
quickly
trickerly
abandoned
in an
ecoerrlogical
ark
of transgressional ages

containing

present bred  
hell bent
emotions

Their attack
so insistently​ sadistic
My line
of defence
is shredded

My diaper guts
are
hung out to dry
and
CRACK
by
an old
demonic
washer woman

my memories
unwashed
and
soiled
then hang
On the broken
defence line
As the
miscreants of anxiety
continue
Their
undigestable

stomach turning 
unabated march
to
unbridled success
On
carnivorous
wormy steeds
through
my
spaghetti twisted
intestines
highway
to my
kingdoms capitalized
ANX

these unbridled 

demonic miscreants
Quash
my benevolent
blind knights
against
their
blistered and stained
mirror
shield walls
where
In
desperation to survive
i
assimilate
what
I awe

To endure

This tyranny

of
deformed figure heads
propergating
my picture 
frames

i de-evolve
into
what i begun
in
the dark
before
i was induced
into
the transcending
fractured
light

©bg 2010

Autumn in the jungle

i’d hear the guitar strumming along
to the apes gravel sorrowful woes
i knew he sung for the old cabbage devil
drunk moon whiskey and pimped his hoes

i wasnt there when the ape finally fell
i always thought he’d evolve wings
but where he fell there wasn’t any snow
when the puppeteer cut his Tangled strings
when the puppeteer cut his Tangled strings

some friends you meet down in the hole
but they stay behind in wonderland
now and then those memories needle you
like
the night the white bitch bit the apes hand

i wasnt there when the ape finally fell
i always thought he’d evolve wings
but where he fell there wasn’t any snow
when the puppeteer cut his Tangled strings
when the puppeteer cut his Tangled strings

i watched him carve nightmares into fallen trees
that ape he was plagued by demonic circus fleas
last i heard he’d gone south in a puff of rumor
his blood escaped down the grates of a sewer

i wasnt there when the ape finally fell
i always thought he’d evolve wings
but where he fell there wasn’t any snow
when the puppeteer cut his Tangled strings
when the puppeteer cut his Tangled strings

©bg 2017

a drop in the ocean

i lean heavily
on
a bridge’s
railing
in a blackout

below

i can hear the raindrops
plopping
into
the cold black brine

below

that sound
i hazard a guess
is the sound
of
souls
been absorbed
into
eternity

above

i hang weightily
over
a bridge’s
railing
trapped in a dark cloud
my thought
soon to become
just
another drop
in the
ocean

below

©bg 2016

Mute

MUTE
is a sound
strumming thrumming
RAGE 

RAGE

strumming thrumming

oblivious to love
SILENTLY​
creates
destructive
scorched decay

BURNT
hearts
feed
non functional
output
amped
emotional
puke
poetic
monologue​s
back
through black hole
cones

WATT
a performance
illuminating
reminiscences
staged
as
post mortem
theatre

©bg 2017

 

fatalities crossing rivers

dogs leap
from the curb
into the road
like a suicidal verb
like the hard as road
was a Crystal clear river
full of delectable fish
tasting of lamb liver

a car swerves  
and fishtails
in its rearview mirror
doggies stand wagging tails
they don’t see
the times killer​ whales

starry-eyed teen couple
paw each other
oblivious to the World
to its carnage that lovers suffer
they push-pull and then nip kiss
in lovers code
before playfully leaping in bliss
into the hard road
like it was a safe meandering brook
to go skinny fucking dipping in
without so much as a second look
past the light of a leering moon
unaware of the fatalities caused
as two hearts collide in a swoon

in a rearview mirror it’ll look
like a scene from Very Sorry
where a lumbering farting lorry
collects
the lovable
the snuggable
clueless
Street mutts
sheesh what a mess

© bg 2013

two devided by one

Uno fell

Uno wasn’t quite yet dead
when Uno’s body hit the bed
whispering into the light
to someone out of their sight

Uno said

this is not a dying grovel
for i know my time is done
but i wanted to write a novel
bout a devil with a blue gun

Uno saw

an old light ,slightly detached
bags under their alien bulbous eyes
their blinking crazed gaze unmatched
by the lights faceless smiling disguise

Uno felt

guitar strings strumming ones lips
cigarettes burning ones toe tips
bags of salt weighing upon ones chest
nails scraping ones bones for their zest

Uno died

excruciatingly gradually and wearily
for uno had lived almost thirty one odd years
wishing one had only breathed momentarily
upon a world where love never adheres

pre the fall

Cupid feeling unappreciated and miffed
procured a mysterious little blue gun
and with a dead leaden stare bequeathed the gift
to an ungrateful loved one on the run

©bg 2017