cold turkey

on the abyss endless steppe 
i stood
watching my soul evaporate
as i breathe out
trying to warm
my cold cold hands

galloping past
a crow caws at me
from the back
of a wild pale horse
heading east
towards the river styx

i continue west
a pack of salivating wolves
orbiting
my cold turkey aura

i am unconcerned
the insulated hut
was claustrophobic
better
to be out in the wild
free of feeling lost
trying to act
civilised
or
as some
propagandist
call
religious

anyways
i could still see the abyss
through the huts
blood stained
macabre
glass windows
with the clawed tattered
thermal
hell fire red
curtains

i could still feel the abyss
sighing
through the floor cracks
whistling
through the keyhole
waiting
for the frozen tundra
to melt
within the
crematorium
before
the abyss
freezes over again
my crushed
ashes
absorbed
into the frozen tundra

better
to ignore the gods
numbered
pebbles
to walk the endless abyss
to allow
the soul to evaporate
far
far beyond the reach
of the
doctors
the
priest
and the
spiritual nets
that'll
take your gold teeth
to cradle you
in highly perishable
myths

i continue to walk
beyond
the river styx
only
breathing out
only
breathing out
so as not
to
inhale the gas
to choke
within
the gods
bricked retort

© by bg 2021

tanka by a wanka 3 drowning evolution

from the moons birds view 
earths feeble crop of green hair
is drowned by bald blue
i hear seaweed is healthy
mind warp to devolve whomans

© by bg 2021

tanka by a wanka 2 the elites trickle down effect

water licking toes 
gonna be drowned by high moon 
back to the pearl gates
a sewage pipe above spews 
busking outside man made hell 

© by bg 2021

haunting errors

searching for god still
in the  haunted house 
perched upon a man made hill 

i stare into a ghost's mirror 
no nobodaddy do i see 
but the beast is getting nearer 
the savior fades into the sea

i hear a groaning door 
in the haunted house 
thats resting on the sea shore  

i look back at the ghost mirror 
i see the beasts wanted poster
his aged face is getting clearer
my quarry is getting closer 

i float like a ghost 
in the haunted house 
that sails the milky way's coast

i stare out a shattered window 
where time is reversed 
the sunrise is full of innuendo 
physics reacts unrehearsed 

i stand as a porch post 
apart from the haunted house 
left behind like a burnt signpost 

to the house of lucid dreams 
to the house of mimicking mirrors
to the house of echoing requiems 
to the house of haunted errors 

© bg 2021