Opinions
Consigned To Eruptive Causes
Stolen thoughts beyond the vistas
and
one means damage with head-shots
the
standard lines heat the stacks
street
noise fattens the margins
adios
amigos the not so secret code
murmurations
at the borders with killer waves
so
all bets are off in the Tombs of Abhorrence
game-changers
anonymous blunt the stats
details
suffered while sinking
grid
block in the chill zone
this
could take a stout lariat to anchor the shift
with
contracts signed to pale applause
while
harbours rise and conquer our bricks.
Blind Honey Bends The Wires
Tone knockers and peach suckers
natural
bop in polyester
when
the crash came bottles arose
dumb
waiters cowered in shadows
all
sway and slag
branch
bob and trance glance
shudder
to think a general malaise
time
the bills got wasted pending peaks
fortune
mongrels’ chart toppers
bush
hunting for plotlines
the
mirrors open for business
online
stars poised for flash
knee-jerk
night gig
old
loner’s sentimental croon
another
rye cracks the boredom
further
reruns in the Horror Factory
you
can catch it on the wind
no
need to understand.
A Pill For Your Troubles
Hotrod Red in fascist garb
line’em
up for the shake down
sails
set for the quake and roll
rubber-neck
or bust has taken over
some
holiday delirium to squeak your soles
sugar
tremens sticky with smirks
find
a place to be then leave
not
much personality impervious to loss
these
vascular codes ticking within
nothing
a tit wouldn’t warm
or
a cap of happy to storm the range.
Minute Correction
In the Luna Cave she met her match
snake
charmer and all a front beyond the swill
where
Big Mama Blues set the room aglow
a
buck-a-pop turned eyes inwards
contractions
in the after-flow louvered and lean
after
miles of nothing a sudden arc
hide
those visions when The Man comes lurking
there’s
scanners encrypting the uptick
revelations
in the lode code
slug
pumpers on the merge
faith
in ploys and penury mopery
excitement
in the riot realm
worm
holes sucking sockets
a
gnarl of naughts and knots
alive
on arrival if censored so.
Wandering Caseload
The world went blank
I
mean the Machines of Attraction
voids
must be of necessity
enough
to screw the brain
collapse
empires while sleep ordains
comatose
resurrection
and
nothing the same
until
it is.
Take Two
A tangler of emotive esteem
duckin’
metal and buckin’ bodies
cold
hearts in a disturbance of plasmic intent
heads
like coins shoved in slots
missing
in action with snapped triggers
can’t
help but grovel in all this traffic
numbed
vulgarity faltering at the seams
a
world on notice to smooth these exits
we’ve
come in furor to air our doubts
punch
holes in the sky to hide our wounds.
Randy Barnes has published far and wide since the 1970’s. He was awarded the Lifetime Historian Beat Poet Laureate, Washington State, in 2020. He continues to roam the bush in search of anything symphonic.
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