the doom slinger 8

through 
the bones 
of 
primordial gods 
scattered 
by 
old crones 
across the 
plateau 
Satan 
tracked 
his 
fleeing foe 
from the 
signs   
he did sow 
defecating 
across the 
killing field 
where time
cannot be  
appealed 
and not 
believing 
in luck
set out
in pursuit 
of his 
constipated 
lame duck 

the heavens 
on fire
crackled 
and 
popped 
an 
infinite palette 
of 
marbled
fiery red 
clouds 
rolling across 
a copper 
ceiling
colliding 
with a 
thunderous 
murderous
clap 
causing 
Satan to 
turn his 
opaque eyes 
to the
angry
heavens
as  
transparent 
void droplets 
splashed
down
over 
him  
as he 
waltzed  
across the 
plateau 
in pursuit 
of his 
quarry 

soaked 
through 
to his 
bespoked 
chattering 
bones 
Satan 
cursed unto
himself  
as he 
looked about 
helter-skelter
for 
some shelter  
for he'd 
had enough 
of the 
reigning 
monarch's
drowning 
piss 
just recently  
to 
sink a 
flotilla 
of arks  

Satan 
took 
shelter
within the
cranium 
of an 
old god 
passing 
the storm 
of 
time away 
trying 
to 
remember 
what his 
quarry's 
next move 
would be 
when 
Satan 
began
wondering 
if the 
oracle's 
vision 
was 
malleable 
when
suddenly 
as the 
oracle
had shown
the reign 
concluded
but the 
heavens 
were 
still on 
fire
and 
Satan 
felt 
trapped 
in a 
oracles  
mire 

worn down 
he fell 
asleep 
on a 
creek bed 
outside 
of the
thoughtless 
primordial gods 
finger painting  
stained
cranium  
hidden 
under it's 
dead 
weeping 
willow 
yellow
hair

seven 
sturdy 
pink hide 
mammoths 
hauled 
the wagon 
along 
the trail 
that 
drunkenly 
wound through 
and 
around 
the bones 
abound
of the
primordial gods 
off 
to the
left 
the  wagon 
trail  
mimicked 
the flow
of the 
dried up 
sandy 
creek bed 
it
 paralleled   

the creeks
banks
were lined 
with bones 
some 
still had 
hair 
attached 
that hung 
weeping willowish
over the 
dried up 
creek bed 
providing 
Satan 
a pool of 
gloom 
to rest
under 
from the 
saturating heat 
of the
heavens embers 
glaring 
judgmentally 
down 
on the  
Firmaments
badlands 

cloth masks
hid the 
wagons guard's 
and 
driver's 
scowling faces   
from the 
burning dust 
and 
choking light  
they wore 
mammoth 
white dyed
wool robes
the guard 
sitting 
on the 
left hand 
of the 
driver
had a 
ankh 
shreddergun 
faithfully 
laid
across 
his knees
in 
the back 
of the 
wagon 
two guards
clutched
well used 
sarcophagus
repeating  
rifles  
nested 
vested 
amongst the 
hacky sacks
fill of 
untold 
fools gold 
headed 
for 
Woden'sOasis 
which was 
less than 
five bars 
aways 
as the 
wagon 
sways 

buried 
under 
the masks 
nervous sweat 
etched 
the faces 
of the 
wagon riders 
for their 
dangerous run 
between the 
indigenous
gold mine
and 
Woden'sOasis 
was 
nearly complete 
soon 
their dues 
would 
be paid 
their 
citizenship 
into 
Woden'sOasis
purchased 
but they 
knew the 
jinn bottles
would try to 
claim their
salvation 
from them
through 
violence
and 
theft 

the 
driver 
hoped the 
lazy
rag corked
jinn bottles
rolling 
around  
in the 
Firmament 
badlands 
wouldn't
smell 
the lure 
of their 
pure
fools gold
they carted
for he 
was in 
no mood 
to die 
this 
chapter

the wagon 
had 
rumbled  
mumbled 
on 
past where 
Satan lay
undetected 
covered 
in a 
blanket 
of dust 
escaping 
from his 
burdens 
when 
up ahead 
they saw 
deadfall  
on the 
wagon trail 
the 
ankh gunner 
tapped 
the wagon 
twice 
then lifted 
his ankh  
pointing it 
at the 
tangled mass
of fallen 
god bones 
that 
could hide 
a 
bakers dozen 
of the 
nasty
rag corked
jinn bottles 
and more 
ominous 
had not 
been there 
on their 
journey 
out to
the 
badlands 
gold mine

the 
driver 
looked 
desperately
swiveling 
his head 
from
east to west 
for a way 
to steer 
around 
the deadfall 
but the 
rutted trail 
was 
following 
the 
dried up
creek bed 
on the east 
while on 
the west
the
 hedging 
primordial 
god heads 
empty 
bulging 
eye sockets 
watched  
their passing 
there
was no 
way 
but through 
the 
deadfall
or risk 
sinking 
their dreams 
somewhere
out there 
in the 
badlands 
quicksand's 

the driver 
fried 
sighed 
preparing 
to haul 
on the 
reins 
for 
shifting the 
gods deadfall
was a 
mammoths 
task 

the stolid 
sheared 
mammoths 
pulled back 
on their 
harnessed 
raw hides  
slowing 
the wheels 
of the 
wagon 
as the 
guards kept 
their guns 
nervously 
trained 
on the 
deadfall 
the butts 
of the 
guns 
quivering 
locked 
into their 
shoulders 
as 
their eyes 
perched 
on their 
gun sights 
searching 
the deadfall 
waiting 
for the 
jinn bottles 
ambush

the 
guard 
with the 
ankh gun
jumped down 
to cover 
the driver 
as he 
unhitched 
the 
mammoths 
he 
needn't have
bothered
for 
at that 
moment 
a shot 
rang out 
he fell 
against 
the wagon
casting 
his ankh
away  
then he
slid 
into the 
hardening
 ground 
disbelief 
hidden 
under his 
death mask 
but 
not from 
been shot
that he 
expected 
but  
from been 
tricked 
bye the 
jinn
for the 
shot 
came from 
the 
dried up 
creek bed 

the guard  
drained out
alone
abandoned 
bye his 
companions 
busy as 
more shots 
blasted 
out of the 
creek bed 
as the 
two 
in the 
fools gold 
nest 
tried to
swivel 
around
and 
retaliate  
flame spouted 
from the 
muzzles 
of their
sarcophagus
repeaters 
when
they got 
into position 
then 
blood welled 
from a 
deep hole
drilled 
in one 
of the 
guards 
barreled chest 
his 
grape juice 
soaking 
into the 
white dyed
trail grimed 
robe 
as the 
draining guard 
slumped back 
onto 
the bags  
of 
fools gold  
his eyes 
caked
glazing over 
as the 
last guard
existing 
reached 
over 
and 
took the 
drained guards 
sarcophagus
to help 
fight off
the attack 

several 
rag corked
jinn bottles  
veils 
pulled 
up over 
their faces
surged over  
the 
dried up 
creek beds 
concealing 
banks 
smoke puffed
breathlessly 
from their
wielded guns 
as the 
driver 
stepped out 
from behind 
a 
mammoths
pink leg 
yelling 
while 
firing 
both barrels 
of the 
ankh 
from the 
hip 
shedding  
jinn bottles 
into 
mosaic
pizzas  

the 
jinn bottles 
were closing 
the gap
as the 
driver 
frantically 
tried 
to reload 
the driver 
turned 
to see 
the last 
guard 
thrashing 
around 
as
grape juice 
gurgled 
from his 
throat 
torn open 
from a 
lead thirst  

the driver 
cursed 
he was 
alone 
stranded
against a 
horde 
of
gold lusting 
jinn bottles 
as he 
thumbed back 
his ankhs 
opposing 
hammers 
he thought 
about 
surrendering
giving up 
his 
fools gold 
and 
his chance 
to gain 
entry 
into 
Woden'sOasis

yes he'd 
throw himself 
on the
mercy 
of the 
jinn horde
then he 
spat out 
the idea 
that any
rag corked 
jinn bottle
would grant 
him a 
golden ounce 
of mercy 
for if 
their role 
were 
reversed 
he 
hadn't

the 
ankh 
went off 
with a
loud boom
none 
of the  
jinn bottles 
fell 
because 
the driver 
had been 
punched 
in the 
gut bye
several
of 
their 
lead fists
and he'd
spilt 
his 
golden leaden 
death 
milt 
shot
uselessly 
into the 
Firmaments 
wagon 
plowed 
ground   

crumpled 
leaking 
wine juice 
from his 
perforated 
barrel stomach 
into the 
unconsecrated  
firmaments 
badlands
ground  
before 
the 
approaching 
indigenous
jinn bottles 
he 
jealousy
watched 
them 
reclaim 
their 
hijacked 
wagon 
fill of 
their
coveted
gold 
and fade 
from sight

© bg 2021

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s