Archery
- by Linn Barnes
Archery
-Linn Barnes
Today at archery practice
in the cool with a light breeze
the sun crossing to my south
perfectly lighting the target
at about three in the afternoon
cutting through to the right spot
I brought to bear years of training
and buried many shafts deep into
the center at twenty yards
the arrows flying flawlessly
weighted and powerful
slicing through the air
fletching whistling through
the shallow arc falling dead
true
Onward 'Christian' Soldiers
- by Linn Barnes
Onward ‘Christian’ Soldiers?
-Linn Barnes
The 'testament' may be ‘old',
but his hand is rotten to the core,
where neither true nor false
may leap nor jump, but only ‘prance',
perverted, elf-like, before the praetorians
assembled to grease his false skid.
Imperator-falsitorious, a grim joke,
quaketh none, nor moveth earth,
but rattles mightily the ire of the just,
sharpened daggars still sheathed,
And we all saw it on the shinning screen,
and, come November we will take him down...
The Gates
- by Linn Barnes
The Gates
-Linn Barnes
And now ratchet the shape
of the world you’ve wrought
into the greedy maw of the
mob you’ve falsely licensed
to shudder and bring about the
rule of the despicable tyrant
glassy-eyed quickstepping
his ugly horde stumbling
at the edge of the fray
where the glamour of truth
has been forced to flee
before his sad praetorians
quickstepping galloping down
the lovely streets of our town
begone thou foul demon
leave before one more drop
of our sacred blood
greases your pitiless path
for the gates to nowhere
have yawed open and wait
your leaden tread
to the fires of eternity
Cold Death
- by Linn Barnes
Cold Death
-Linn Barnes
we rot while we wait
for guidance from nowhere
while the blood crashes through
the dams flooding the valleys
the plains fields the ditches
around the fucking corner
up to the front door
where the lock rusted fuck
that it is will not hold back
the shouldered nudge
now come creeping into
the lost locker of cold death
stinking up the pathways
to when things should
no longer matter
but somehow still do
L'addition
- by Linn Barnes
L’addition
-Linn Barners
incoming motherfuckers
duck 50 some shit left
drag the warp to the right
there’s three kinda
shit working the night
when the weasel of death
is creeping into the dawn
and the moon won’t go down
and the sun won’t rise
into a day not worth it
not worth the trouble
and the patch of green
worries the heart
while the glimmer of gold
gladdens the heart
of the sad few who’ve
not noticed the coming blink
flooding the pastures of death
where nothing matters save
what’s left that can’t be chewed
where a gulp is a sad gag
a swallow a muddled myth
garçon l’addition
I must be gone
Emperor
- by Linn Barnes
Emperor
-Linn Barnes
And, and, well,
I am emperor
the force, the answer, the solution,
I know, have known, will always know
and I will share this with my people,
who love me, who love me, love me,
because they know all I say is true,
the force, the answer, the solution,
because I am emperor,
the force, the answer, the solution
I will prevail since
I have the answer, the solution,
and all those who defy me
are frauds and fools
wearing and bearing false
knowledge against the
incontrovertible fact that
I am emperor,
the force, the answer, the solution
and through this and by me will
all be saved or not,
and I could not care less,
since I am the emperor,
the force, the solution
until I no longer am
even a dark smudge of this
bestial horror,
that even when I,
crashing and tossing
in ruined bedding,
bleed out to the wounded
world the sad truth
that I am nothing.
Where There Are No Lies
- by Linn Barnes
Where there are no Lies
-Linn Barnes
There are no lies
in the greening spring
the rising crops
and speed of Finn
racing round the property
walking the high grass
wet with the dew
fixing a fence post
tuning a lute
humming a tune
smiling at dawn
rising into the
glory of another
just day.
But that is
being threatened
plowed under
by grim realities
by haunted visions
crumbling the rhythm
with the no count
reality seeping into
the very pores of things.
Then blink once
and then twice
re-fancy the glade
the hill to the river
the sound of the pileated
swooping through the trees
the raspy cough of the deer
the Spring gobble of the tom
the sweet laughter of someone
near who watches and cares for
your every move and breath.
Trump's lying
- by Linn Barnes
trump's lying
-Linn Barnes
trump’s lying
he’s lying
lying
trump’s lying
he’s lying
lying
trump’s lying
he’s lying
lying
do
you
get
it
before
it’s
too
late
do
you
get
it
yet
The Waning Moon
- by Linn Barnes
The Waning Moon
-Linn Barnes
I am cripple dancing
falling into a dead heap
turning again and again
while the music of the end
creeps into the moment
where the volume is high
where the light glistens and
illuminates the horror
of the certain end
at the bottom of the
pool where the snakes
have established dominion
and learned to drink the
putrid blood of the drowned
where no guards are present
where no lives may be saved
where a past shall be worshipped
and an ugly future clad beyond clear
shall shine no mirrors
leading any where
save the faint reflections
of the waning moon
beams cast in fear
Donald
- by Linn Barnes
Donald
-Linn Barnes
O Donald
whoever you are
you have missed the train
back to queens
wherever that is
but there is no home
for you here
so you must
find that train
that will take you
home to where it
all began to unravel
O Donald
while the foolery had
a moment for some
then when the curtain
was lifted and the
game began to shut down
the disaster screamed
for the dead and ruined
you’d left in the rut
as you ran for cover
over the bodies piled up
while the nation finally
caught on to what
a fuck up you are
and now even the next
train will never
get you home
you are lost Donald
sputtering and gagging
nonsense lyrics
which finally not a
sentient soul alive
can compute
and the death rain
tumbles and soaks
your terminal traces
which will vanish
in the burning sun
now exploding the horizon