smoke screams fill the car
reapers ride the bullet trains
last stop terminal
©bg 2022
authors notes
recent current events in NY had me back looking thru my reaper collection .
thankfully
the NY attack was not a reaper event.
i changed the 1st line from [dead screams fill the car ] to it's current form .
©bg 2022
writing 2018
a reaping haiku ⚰️⚰️
teaching standards bomb
grim reapers cluster round schools
to collect their kids
©bg 2022
authors notes -between 2018 and 2019 i wrote a collection of reaping haikus about gun violence of which i only ended up posting one.
the russians invasion sadly prompted me to post a second one,. i chose this one as its been reported the russian army is using cluster bombs , i rewrote the 1st line to fit as originally this was about mass shootings and the second line took on a new horrible meaning..
the doom slinger 10
twas hot
as a furnace
and the
bellow cheeks
of a
hollow god
were blowing
a hard
divine wind
creating
dust clouds
that
veiled the
horizon
as the
dark began
to cover
the once
lit land
materialising
out of the
dust clouds
riding along
a dried up
creak bed
as the
applause
died down
from the
stone crows
flapping
a
lone being
the Fates
called
Coyote
coated
in dust
rode
into the
Firmament's
baked hard
land
on the
back
of his
big red
planet
sized
horse
breaking
a
chilling silence
that had
fallen
throughout
the
darkening
ancient gods
graveyard
the sound
of the
horse’s hoofs
drumed
a warning
echo
through the
silent dusk
to the
phantoms
hiding
in the
cavities
and
behind
the
broken bones
on the
edge
of the
darks ledge
that there
was some
being
of a
some what
deadly nature
that had
entered
into
their realm
a warning
that a
doom slinger
was
coming
that would
go
unheeded
for the
aroma
of death
that hung
on the
horseman
was like
honey to
the Fates
and their
bear warriors
or
other foul
minions
Coyote
looked
along the
dried up
creek bed
at the
stretched out
burnt out
Satan
whose
smouldering
bones
the Fates
detested
rested
under the
hanging hair
of an
ancient ones
skull
the
broiling heat
was trapped
by the
dark lid
that slowly
covered the
Firmaments
cauldron
making the
atmosphere
feel
even more
oppressive
as Coyote
moved
his big
red horse
towards
the
charred form
as he
drew nearer
he saw
a trio
of stone
crows
perched
statuesque
on a
stretched out
bone arm
of an
ancient god
gloating over
Satan's
remains
Coyote
reined in
his mount
and
from his
elevated vantage
point
quietly drew
his
silver skull
engraved
shooting
pup
with a
blue
as death barrel
for
Coyote's
scary
white eyes
could
still see
wisps of
smoke
rising from
the remains
whispering
a warning
that
danger
could still
be lurking
somewhere
close at hand
in the
now
darkening
landscape
of the
ancient gods
graveyard
of blood
spilt sand
Coyote
leaned forward
in the
saddle
looking down
on the
smouldering
bones
to ask
of them
"well well
old fiend
of a
friend
i'm a
guessing
you're all
burnt out
from
chasing
that
figment
Justice
i'd say
time heals
all wounds
but
well lets
just say
i don't
usually use
gratitudes
platitudes
in an
interlude
it seems
an oracle
erred
it's seams
nah
seems
to me
to be
all oracles
err for
the Fates
and their
dictates
so why
one
has to ask
did you
believe
Destiny
questions
for
another time
i'd wager
so
bye bye
for now
ol' fiend
i have
other quarries
other stories
to get
done
and
dusted"
©bg 2021
the doom slinger 9 act 3
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 2
mourning found Drakon once again retracing his waltzing strides his wrath heating his flesh which dripped sweating weeping through his skin falling as droplets of sizzling fatty gloom into the streets coarse sands grinding teeth flies dodged the annoyed tails of yellow boned horse skeletons collapsed hitched outside the main streets drowning trough outside the blood stained glass window sinderblock church of the Fates Drakon consumed with wrath unable to stop himself continued on determination set deep in his cold whetstone opaque eyes yet Drakon could feel a strange cracking lunatic grin fixing itself across his burnt leather on bone face the light would be waning soon vengeance was a waxing dark aeons had come Satan's chest parted both bat wings as he entered the saloon his right hand hung loosely on a level with his fancy pistol the bartender cried out rather nervously “Whiskey…… OH Shit!” then the bartender collapsed to the floor boards prostrate before the bar as if it were an altar to the Fates that had just saved his life and he was before the altar giving his regrets Satan stared at the tall flaming charismatic figure of Justice standing at the bar only for the image to blur and fade out then fade back in to show Mira naked her bloody cemetery cartoon tree spindly limbs patched with tattered pieces of her abstract autumn leaves dress flies feeding off the dried blood that had ceased its finite weeping from the bullet hole in the middle of Mira’s head that watched Satan accusingly without blinking As if the man at the bar the Fates called their Justice could see what Satan could see he laughed loudly joyously as he stepped back into Satan's vision Justice gestured at the bar followed by friendly words thrown at Satan that stung Satan's burnt leather on bone cheeks flame white “man it’s a hotty Satan stop standing in the doorway a holding back the breeze why not getz yourself to the bar Hell boy I’ll buy you a whiskey lets drink to your dead witch and bastard son” Satan didn’t move flies stagnated around him in flight Justice drunk his whiskey then refilled his hourglass with his right hand leaving his left hand hovering over his holstered six shot flaming gavel Justice laughed again a lazy charming mocking smarming sound that went with his next monotone statement “ well Satan come lately if we ain’t gonna be civil like and drink together I guess as gentlemen in disagreement, to be civil we should perhaps due…..” Justices flaming gavel cleared his holster before he’d finished the word “duel” and had his flaming gavel's barrel nose up and deadly eyeing Satan's disappearing nostrils Satan's cold whetstone opaque eyes had caught a slight shift inJustices body position Satan's right hand grabbed his fancy pistol by the scruff of its neck and fanned his fancy pistol as he threw himself back out the saloons batwings Satan's fancy pistol's trigger guard had been cut away meaning his vengeance clawing index finger was squeezing off parting lead shots before his back hit the boardwalk a shower of wooden splinters rained stakes down on Satan from Justice's shots destroying the swinging top half off the bat wings that the towns laws were carved on with Yahweh the butcher's knife when no more shots followed Satan stood up he pushed open the remaining section off the bat wings while using his right arm to holster his fancy pistol he looked at the bar to see Justice dead instead he saw his lovely Mira sitting dead on the saw dust floor a sappy blood skid mark down the altar front from where his lead nails had punctured right through her chest and out her back. Mira’s head sat at a strange angle while bees went in and out her mouth as if it were their Nectar filled hive. Satan fell to his knees at Justices black spurred boots sobbing his words out that were choking him. “ Mira love i’m so sorry, Mira , my Mira” the dream blurred out then back in © bg 2021
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
a demonstration haiku #2
Israel bulldozed clay
earthquakes form mountains on earth
thy shalt not covet
© by bg 2021
a reaping haiku⚰
play ground toy gunfights
grim reaper taping his foot
sends his kid to class
© by bg 2019
an obese haiku
flesh buddha waiting
to deflate like a balloon
bladder leaking piss
©bg 2019
an inheritance haiku
dead be dust or ash
children are our only souls
don’t leave them in hell
©bg 2019
resurrecting the trashcan bard 
You must be logged in to post a comment.