poopling soup recipes #47

July 5, 2023June 28, 2023bg poopling soup recipes Tags: 2018, 2022, addiction, alcohol, blog, blogging, climate change, colonialism, death, depression, drinking, environment, fiction, FTW..., health, humor, life, myth, News, Opinion, philosophy, poem, poems, poetry, Political, pollution, religion, rum, sin, virtue, war, wine, writing, writing 2022 1 Comment

there was a monk trapped in a tower 
in his prison he drew a flower 
then gave it to a king 
who listened to it sing 
while the monk drunk bitters while sour 

©bg 2022

author's notes- not a Limerick it's a lymberbrick

the doom slinger 9 act 3

November 7, 2021December 27, 2021bg the doom slinger Tags: 2018, 2021, addiction, blog, blogging, colonialism, death, depression, environment, fiction, FTW..., health, humor, life, myth, Opinion, philosophy, poem, poems, poetry, Political, pollution, religion, sin, virtue, writing, writing 2018, writing 2021 10 Comments

and so lost child
the being so wild 
with 
the fancy gun 
went on the run 

hurrah hurrah

he drank in the dark
to cover his arc 
but
the Fates had time 
for hearts do chime 

hurrah hurrah

life's the toxin 
fears concoction
so
we all do imbibe 
life's bitter jibe

hurrah hurrah

he crawled to a tree 
to set himself free 
to 
eat of a fruit so pure 
'tis said to be the cure 

hurrah hurrah

the Phantasos berry
it was quite contrary 
now 
how did the Fates know  
where the tree did grow 

boorah boorah 

Satan 
sat on
his 
dark horse
with the 
sweet 
sickly 
after taste 
of the 
intoxicating  
berries juices 
glueing
his tongue
to the
side 
of his 
mouth 

looking 
up 
Satan  
could see 
Justices 
vine arms
twisting
up 
into the 
canopy 
of an 
ancient 
atlas tree
laden 
with ripe
pus sore
filled
addictive 
Phantasos
berries 

around 
his neck 
were 
Justice's   
interlocked 
skellington
 locked 
noosed
woven 
decaying
ropey
fingers  

Satan's 
blurred vision 
saw 
whoman
wisps 
leaping  
round 
a bonfire
flasks
pressed in
passionate 
smudging
kisses  
to their 
lips
in thirst 
fueled  
passions
of their 
fears 

one sage
whoman  
wisp
 broke off 
from 
the group 
he drew 
his 
swan off
shreddergun
loading 
the device 
with 
powdered 
belt salt
filled shells
then with 
empty 
calloused
roving
 eye sockets 
he shot 
Satan twice 
clipping 
Satans wings 
 then from 
the fire 
he drew 
out two 
pistols 
their barrels 
glowing 
bright orange red
 which he 
pushed
 into 
Satans 
temples
 laughing 
dispassionately 
in time 
to Satans
 howls 
of pain 
his feet 
jigging
to the 
cheers of 
approval
 from the 
intoxicated 
lynching 
party 

Lightning 
flashed 
across 
Satan's vision
darkness 
rolled 
across 
his eyes 
storm clouds 
bursting
he could 
see
the drops
 of 
Justices 
drool 
 rolling 
of his 
tongue 
and
splashing 
onto
 his face 
like drops 
of 
itching
burning
acid rain
Satan 
closed his 
eyes

the 
lynch mob 
had 
disappeared 
when Satan
opened 
his eyes 
again
and saw
around the 
crackling fires 
light 
the eroding 
 graveyard 
stillborn
dirt mounds 
of the 
recently buried
drunken 
lynch mob 

 from the
 fire light
stepped a 
lady
on 
spindly legs
her face 
hidden 
by a 
grotesque mask 
for half 
of the 
mask
the flesh 
was so 
so alive 
with 
Mira's 
radiant beauty 
where 
as the 
other half 
was so 
filled of 
pale death  
she 
looked like 
Hel
 
Hel 
strode 
to where 
Satan 
 sat on
 his dark 
fading
horse 
waiting 
to be 
hung
in the
Fates 
eclipsing
mourning light
in 
her hand 
was a 
unseeable 
edged 
fork tongue 
blade  
which 
 Hel used 
desperately 
to try 
to cut 
Justice's 
tangled flesh 
from 
around 
Satan's
emaciated
throat
instead
Satan 
felt 
Justice's 
decaying
ropey
burning  
fingers  
tightening
around
 his neck 
his gnarled 
broken 
nails 
digging 
into 
his flesh
in the
waning 
moonlight 
which now 
reflected 
out of 
Hels eyes  
Satan
 could see 
Mira
 screaming 
from 
afar   
at him

“ your hands 
are free 
take the 
frackin' 
knife

DRAKON

save 
thyself 
from the 
vine 
that binds"

thunder 
clapped loudly 
drowning out 
Satan's 
strangled 
questioning 
howl 
into 
the ends 
darkness 

Ⓒ bg 2021

the doom slinger 9 act 1

October 24, 2021December 27, 2021bg the doom slinger Tags: 2018, 2021, addiction, blog, blogging, colonialism, death, depression, drinking, environment, fiction, FTW..., health, humor, life, myth, Opinion, philosophy, poem, poetry, Political, pollution, religion, sin, virtue, writing, writing 2021 2 Comments

the past 
rehashes
deep 
scratches
within the 
subterranean
consciousness
records   
where Satan 
fossilizing 
buried
the deranged 
the estranged
needle bones 
of his 
origin 
in the 
underground 
sewers 
where his
ghost were 
now
socializing 
had formed 
and 
risen deformed
to play
upon  
his mind's
stage 
in a 
catacombs 
nightmarish 
pantomime

act 1

Mira
beautiful Mira 
Lay outside 
on the 
dirt 
beyond 
hurt 
at 
the foot 
of the 
marred
steps 
that led 
to the  
charred 
threshold 
that
Drakon had 
carried 
Mira across 
into their 
honeymoons 
adobe  
Less than 
nine 
full moons  
ago

Mira lay
trapped 
in the
spinning 
cogs 
inertia 
of a 
fairytale
death

Drakon
always 
lost 
his breath 
at Mira’s 
soft beauty 
now 
broken pieces 
of his 
heart 
caught in 
his throat 
choking him 
all 
he could 
see 
through his 
blurry vision 
was her 
silent  
blood curdling 
scream
her 
dried up
tongue
stuck 
lolling 
playfully 
cheekily 
from the 
corner 
of her 
rigor mortis
mouth 
filled 
with flies
hatched 
from the 
magots 
of lies 

Drakon 
could see 
dark matter 
had exited 
the back 
of Mira’s 
head causing 
Drakons 
world to 
fly apart 
the 
pulpy mass 
made it 
look like 
Mira 
rested 
on a 
blood red 
fly blown 
plush pillow 
her body 
surrounded 
by the 
wreath of
stones 
that had 
pummeled 
her dress
into her 
divine flesh
till her 
hourglass 
lay a 
bloody 
pulpy 
smashed glass
dessert 

the 
ground 
swallowed 
Mira 
and her 
mound 
without a 
sound 
as if 
she'd just 
slipped 
into 
the creek 
without a 
splash 
and 
drowned 

in the 
groping dark 
Drakon  
tried 
to dig 
Mira up
from where 
grief 
possesed
he had 
mindlessly 
buried her 
down 
on the 
corner 
away from 
little jack
mourner 
in the 
dried up
creek bed 
that would 
come back 
to life 
when the 
primordial gods 
seasonal 
reigns 
came again 

Drakons 
bare hands 
became 
bloody 
worn down 
to dem 
bones 
the 
dry earth 
drank
of his 
blood 
and ate 
of his 
flesh 
Drakon  
howled 
Pain ,
Anger,
Love, 
Hate , 
up 
at the 
moon
and the 
moon 
in that 
dark time 
reflected 
back the
dark horse 
Selene 
to 
carry him 
along the
shadow canal
Drakon  
had begun 
crawling down 
after kissing 
Mira's 
half 
eaten lips 
one 
last time
before 
whispering 
one 
last vow 
into 
Mira’s 
chewed off 
ear 
then
without 
even 
the strength 
to move 
on 
or flick
one grain 
of a 
dust tear 
to fill in 
the hole 
he left 
Mira in
looking like 
Hel
 
Drakon 
slowly
wasted away 
wrath 
began binding
Drakon 
together 
lifting Drakon 
with a 
howling storm
beneath his 
emaciated
flapping
madly 
drying 
wings 
to land 
on 
two strong 
legs   
beastly enough 
to trod  
on
the path 
of 
VENGEANCE
for aeons

Ⓒbg 2021