close to the brink
u went to see a shrink 
bout the monster under the sink

u wore green socks 
to walk the few grey blocks 
past the time keepers marshal clocks

your socks were wet 
before u walked one street 
from the fear your souls did excrete

u walked some more 
to a closed sliding door 
up on the stair less thirteenth floor

u feel quite ill 
traffic lights start to trill 
like a psychopaths dentist drill

u sit down lost 
when will windows defrost 
maps in this frozen world do cost

monsters are free
built from past dreams debris 
they quickly become your adoptee

they find u there 
shrunk into your shrinks chair 
to hear your hourglass of despair

they’ll prescribe pills 
so u don’t see dung hills 
passing through your medicated gills

nor your shrunk shrink 
under the kitchen sink 
who works for quack freuds MONSTERS Inc

© bg 2012

because times a river

you’ll take steps 
your shadow will stumble 
good times cost 
just ask any hooker 
because times a river 
you just can’t cross

words are like fart’s
watch  what you digest 
love is fossil fuel 
once burnt there’s no renewal 
because times a river 
you just can’t cross

death only conceals 
what birth reveals 
seeing rainbows every day
won’t change the fact your drowning   
because times a river 
you just can’t cross
because times a river 
we’re all released into

© bg 2013

we sacrifice for the weather vane

give me a good keen axe
for the sun needs wood
to break its fast 

bring me the rooster 
that wakes me
with his death rattle crow 
for as surely as the sun comes to the table 
the rooster
must lay his head 
on the executioners block 

i must be faster than light
for the purity of the blade
requires that it must not taste
a drop of blood 
so as to sharpen 
its killer preacher thirst 
Within the white washed barn 
with the weather vane topped steeple

the creek out runs itself
rapidly east to west 
we built a bridge
with the rotting timber 
of the white washed barn 
to get over the bathing exposed 
fornicating pinnacle rocks
but the family of trolls couldn’t sleep 
with our feet trip trip and tripping
across their roof 
like rain from a storm 
that could float an ark 
so they devoured our unicorns
before they could frolic
in the greener pastures
we had passionately seeded 
under the honey moons glow

things got worst when i ate 
our only fattened Pigasus 
our dreams vanished 
like virgins 
when the dragon came a courting 
in springs frenzy 
sneezing fire
because of his pollen allergy 
you packed your bags 
then of down the road
you dragged them
kicking up dust and wailing like kids 
till the coach came along 
your fairy god mother got out 
like a bikers bar bouncer 
to load your baggage onboard 
with her tornado grace 
i caught that last glance
you threw my way 
it sits in a cookie jar
with your other pickled onion looks
that i could never swallow

the sun is just a dying
floating ember now 
i stopped stoking 
so long ago 
i survive on rooster eggs 
hanging out under the bridge
where the trolls once lived 
they dined of me 
till they cleaned me to the bone 
then moved on 
crossing the bridge 
to follow the water west
where they swore 
there was more light 
leaving me chattering
just like maddening wind chimes
to the breeze 
bout the cold southerly 
that cause my bones to ache
in the alzheimer depths
of the cold lonely northern nights 
when the shadow of the creek bed
slowly rises to wash my feet 
into dust

© bg 2012

seas of time

Staring empty seas  contemplate me as I die
Open skies torment  this demon that can’t fly
I’m stranded in a free fall where laws above me don’t allow me to float
As the waves crash over me I see Noah laughing from his boat

Well I think i might just drown
Down in old. Neptune town
Down in old Neptune’s town
Well I’ll be drinking rum till I drown

They’re coming for my demon heads transgressions
They’re coming for my bedside confessions
But all they’ll get from my eyes are blank reflections
From my prophets tongue the rantings of a lunatics recollections

Down in old Neptune’s town
Where i went to drown.
Down in old Neptune’s town
I’m drinking rum till i drown

Cause Deep inside of me  the skull music has stopped  and killed the time of play
Ever since I killed the eggman who stole the Souls from the fallen angels decay
Ever since i saw the eggman rise  again as the dawns false light gave him breath
Ever since the eggman has lead  the dance to the rag time tune of a living death

Down in old Neptune’s town i turn the cards like they’re giant weights
For I can hear their prayers above trying to unlock the towns gates
I can hear their prayers above falling as stones upon the judged
I can hear their prayers crackling like lightning above the smudged
I can hear their prayers whistling through the cracks like a plaque carrying wind
I watch the cards fall but i see no way out of this prophets bind

Down in old Neptune’s town
Where i went to drown
Down in old Neptune’s town
They say in times seas you’ll

© bg 2014

knight train

i’m the lord of ambivalence

this is where the labyrinth
of love/desire 


along railway tracks
deviding the sleepers
into trinities

one the narcissistic head
one the body of self sacrifice
one the fleeing dreaming feet

the sleepers are one
segmented multitudinousness entity
staked to the earths
bland granite !andscape

embodied by the
reality and weight
of the knight trains
crowing whistle

©bg 2010

gutters,books or pews

dogs chase mustard rabbit clouds
through elastic battlefields 
of gangrene razor blades 
watched by bayonet hand 
grandfather clocks 
exhaling times fuming
sickening mustard breath 
from the enemies trench’s

smart bears playing chess in parks 
die of constipation 
when they get lost 
in carnivorous 
life’s picnic basket

lambs use thanksgiving bird beaks 
to pluck the tears from their eyes 
while the farmer’s wife
dresses them in rosemary beads
teaching them to pray 
to the three blind mice 
before the altar 
of the carving knife 
while nurturing 
them for hells ovens

©bg 2012

transversal hitchhiker

Driving to Wellington 
I met a junked up suitcase 
full of battered books 
hitch hiking 
to met a brokenhearted
pencil benzedrine poet
( a fucking immortal barb on a wire) 
and a penicillin whore 
(to cure his sore weathered cock)

he saw the windows 
of other cars 
were making
gruesome faces at him 
as we cruised 
through the reflecting night

you going to europe
he asked 
I could feel his nose 
poking into my eye 
and I could tell 
he had never come back

I said one day

stop he screamed

he exited stage left 
tottering like a tightrope walker 
on the edge of his rope

I wound down the window 
to let out the travel fumes

suitcase stuck his head in 
his face mashed red 
looking like fresh
road killed tomato 
he screeched

“Billy Joel fuking lied 
vienna don’t wait for anyone 
its like the guddam moon 
if you don’t go 
it’s always that faraway 

as I drove of 
I saw him 
spitball a fish

© bg 2011