Early
- by Linn Barnes
Early
-Linn Barnes
Awake very early
hardly a shadow
very dark and close
I dress quickly
Check equipment
put on face paint
hurry in the dark
to a woodland stand
In total silence
stalking the stand
one careful step at a time
I climb into the stand
Secure the safely strap
load a bolt to the bow
illuminate the sight
to a low green dagger
And settle and bask in a
total eclipse of the world
the cool wind and the sun
rising to greet me
With an almost carnal
welcome much overlooked
in the sad and hopeless
world of the morning news.
Survival
- by Linn Barnes
Survival
-Linn Barnes
The ground hog will show himself
for some reason only during the day
standing regally gathering information
about what he needs to survive
While I am watching him through
the powerful scope of my light magnum
thinking about whether or not I hate
him as much as H.D. Thoreau did
And since his only real threat would be
wounding the dog I decided to
let him live knowing well that
was probably a mistake
I would soon enough regret
and not get another shot
It’s always a tough call when
you have a pest in your sights
Or wait until the wrong time
when he is way out of your
sights and has already wounded
the dog who of course thought
He was invincible more powerful
faster and so forth
but he was wounded badly
and I felt like a fool
For missing my chance
to end a clear threat to a
beloved member of our family
when the chance was clear
When I should have acted
according to self-evident laws
prescribed by nature concerning
who should and who should not
Survive
Home Base
- by Linn Barnes
Home Base
-Linn Barnes
Honor is in collapse
with the sick wind from the
once white house
body slamming
the search for justice
against the primate himself
as he mobilizes the idiots
who cheer for some unknown reason
their collective demise with
the waste he has laid about his
ruined being while the
borders of sanity shudder
and the portals of political
hell slam open for the
marching drooling fools
sliding into home base.
The Toppling
- by Linn Barnes
The Toppling
-Linn Barnes
There is a gut sickness
poisoning the heated air
perched on a falling
branch of hypocrisy
scrabbling for a quick shot
at what is left of a crippled target
which appears to be rising
full to the face of it all
shouting at the lies
and laughing at the failure
of words without meaning
driven into the muck
of failing stables collapsing
beneath timbers whose
great beams no longer bind
the weight of justice
or reason to anything
but decay and the quicklime
of the nearly impossible able to begin
to see the horror of the emerging truth
driving finally the bankrupt
mythologies of murderous
monsters into the final pits
of flames and savage vengeance.
The Wheel
- by Linn Barnes
The Wheel
-Linn Barnes
Dimes are losing to time as
the blooded wheel bites into
the sad wounded earth
with spokes broken to kindling
and hopes put to the ancient altar
of shame and retribution
while the hub grinds to
death the last remaining
hopes of fools and traitors.
Falling
- by Linn Barnes
Falling
-Linn Barnes
The smudge has become
more than toxic,
fouling the vaguely fall air,
wilting the fine colors on
the shinning leaves, here
in beaten Washington,
where walking the streets
has become not so much
dangerous as tiresome,
where the foul debris of
less than intimacy rings
sour, invading the pores,
grinding down the
will to endure the grim
future of yet more
putrescence to come,
as we seem to be entering
a time of beginning
to witness a needful
yet dreaded collapse,
where the willing
sewers will shout out and
stand open for the prey.
Event Horizon
- by Linn Barnes
Event Horizon
-Linn Barnes
Why is it beginning to
feel like we are
crashing into a
black hole
from which nothing
may emerge,
neither matter nor light
and, above all,
not a trace of hope
unless imbeciles over
whom we have no say,
save, in time, the vote,
man up and remove
he who has become the
most notorious and
dangerous creature
on the planet, who will
soon be bringing an upshift
of pain and sorrow
to a sad land bathed
already in a sea of blood,
fear and desperation.
Now
- by Linn Barnes
Now
-Linn Barnes
The reeds have rotted
and the wind has blown
the lake waters
to a sad other shore,
where darkness lifts
to a sad dawn.
Where now the new world
groans and pushes for birth,
and the terminal old
gag on the bile they have
pumped full into the world,
where not one single drop
was ever, not ever, worth
a goddamned dram
of anything vaguely real.
Where the grifted innocent,
taken once by surprise,
now begin to see clearly
into the red mist as it
swarms and begins to clear
the lies and illusions,
the poisons and fears
wrought by greedy
fools with fascistic
dead dreams
from the dreary
fantasies of long
dead and dying
next to nothing
worthless fools.
Death of Shame
- by Linn Barnes
Death of Shame
-Linn Barnes
I don't know how things can be clearer.
The remaining problem is the same old same old:
Lack of honor among Republican Senators,
who, as wealthy as many of them are,
and perhaps this is the root of the problem,
will still refuse to put their 'sacred' seats in peril.
Righteousness has crumbled beyond comprehension
to a point where historical perspective and
the sure to arrive reckoning
seems not to matter a twit.
Shame has died.