Laura Barnes
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  • Blog
  • Bio
  • Route 66- Arizona
  • B&W Portfolio
  • Color Portfolio
  • Cartoons
  • Poetry
  • Get in touch

Poetry

Poetry

I write poems about things that bother me or tug at my heart.
​
​I hope you enjoy them ❤️

​The Truth

​The Truth does not float like frothy foam 
On the surging tide that beats the backs of startled crabs
Sending them scurrying to their salty tide pool homes
Where the sponges and stars dwell.

It does not shimmer like silver needles of wandering whitebait
Darting and dancing like kelpies 
Through the moonlit seaweed and dangerous swells 
Where the eels lazily lie lurking.

It is not found with the angels or groupers
Bobbing to the lilting lullabies of the mighty leviathans
Migrating to the North with fluked tails waving the way
For the musketeering narwhals.

Beyond the moon jellies and ethereal creatures with ribbons
Where the delicate detritus of skeletons dissolve
On the thick silicate carpet of unfathomable depths
Amongst the ear bones of whales and the teeth of bull sharks

In the relentless silence and stillness of the dark parts
Lies the Truth.

Pittsburgh Before Paris

​Without a mother’s murmur,
Permanently parched and hardened,
The cold grey rock
Hurtled anonymously through star spangled space.
The fossilized philosophy;
‘Pittsburgh before Paris,’
Mercilessly scarred,
On her unbeating heart.
The uncherished slag
Slipped away,
Killing all the birds.

On the Sonoran Border

​Against the midnight swath
Of Heaven’s embroidered cloth,
Silhouetted 
Armed saguaros
Stand stiffly on guard.
Silent sentries,
Protecting.

Long nosed bats,
Mexican travelers,
Dip their heads 
In to the night blooms
Of white moonlit trumpets
Heralding the stars.
Long tongues flickering,
Mutely refueling.

A green fig beetle scuttles home to his family
After the day shift.

The heaving homesick sobs and coughs of a lone wolf
Echo across the dark creosote flats.

Hands of gnarled ocotillo,
Orange-polished witches’ fingers
Reach out from the parched earth
Grasping for life,
Hope in the half light.

Migrant tumbleweeds 
Sneak by.

Mule deer whisper in the night 
Tender lips to the ground
Browsing through the brush
Reaching for catclaw and fairy duster.

A kangaroo rat packs its cheeky pouches
Smuggling dark eyed seeds
Back to the tunnels.

A lone coyote stands at a straddle
Bushy tail sweeping the floor
Pointed face lifted,
Barking defiantly.

Young pygmy owls 
Wild and free
Sing into the night.
‘Boot-boot-boot.’

Crickets chirrup and chatter excitedly,
Desert operatives with breaking news.

Cinnamon crowned quail
Toddle along
In an orderly line,
Top knots bobbing,
Family in formation
Chain migration.

Agave rosettes 
Pinned to the dusty stubble.
Fleshy petals,
Spiked.
Tall terminal masts
On the lookout.

Musky javelina snuffle,
Confused in their coarse collars,
Clicking tusks in mock fights.
Territorial.

Hapless ground squirrels 
Run home free.
This is Sonoran diversity.
No walls, no borders.

At night time 
The Dreamers
​Are welcome.
Please,
Please,
Tread softly.

Dirty Old Mankind

Coastal big shots
Rich and meaningful
Look down on us 
Have-nots.
White collar workers,
Farm and coalmine 
And steel shirkers
With loose suits
Slender tech fingers
Unblemished 
With confidence and banter.
Trust fund gits
With gilt edged
Benefits.
Little shits.

Snooty women,
Dirty looks
Of disgust 
With phD’s and Escalades
And made-up faces
That do not smile or soften
Or even stop to see.
Especially not me.
Humiliating jealousy.

Know-it-all reporters
Full of smug facts
Ridicule and deride,
My reality 
Denied.
I’m irrelevant.
Kicked to the curbside.

Every petty boss
Of the overlooked
Under-schooled
Unpromoted
Are harbingers of 
My despair.
What a job,
Joyless,
Unending drudgery,
Sheer and utter
Misery.

Venal politicians,
Pithy and slick,
Make me sick,
Overpromising
Openly pocketing
Corruption sky rocketing,
No politicking or policies 
For me.
No siree.

If only I could
I would
Gnaw off my leg
To be free,
To live
In the land of opportunity
Like you.
But not me.

Religion turns a red cheek,
Mercilessly,
Cruelly,
No goodwill
I don’t fit the bill.
Inside I am dead
And wounded.
Unincluded.

Denying doctors
Apologetic but complicit
In their hypocritic oaths,
Uncaring,
Unsparing,
Body wearing and tearing.
Unfit for life.
Kept angrily alive
With a crude compulsion
To put an angry boot 
In someone’s face,
Anyone’s.
Shame.
What a disgrace
I am.

Down on my knee
So desperately lonely.
Grubby rented room
For one
With sticky carpets,
Scruffy furniture,
Filthy yellow drapes,
And a decade or more
Of dwelling
In family failures.
No beauty
Or reprieve.
Beaten, 
Barely breathing,
Sour and seething
In time with
The relentlessly 
Humming fridge.
Empty.

No room
For oranges or books
Or shiny new trucks.
Unforgiving poverty.
I’m a bar brawler,
Night crawler,
Sofa sprawler.
Not refined or 
Sophisticated.
I am dirt smart,
Gritty
Not pretty.
I have my pride.

Guns and knives,
Pills and powders,
Bottles and cans
Are my only comrades
At night
That help me sink
Into the hollow
Depths
Of the dark
Despicable
Downers
That lead to
Morning after vomiting.
Bitter.

Deformed dreams
Mark my nights
Unfulfilled promises
My days.
Constantly numb,
Dumb,
Discarded,
Broken hearted.

Through glittering eyes
With gunmetal flecks
Of bruised blue,
Narrowed
With bags of hostility
A pinched face
Of hopeless humanity.
I see you.

It’s a damned
Human profanity
To turn a blind eye,
To deny dignity
And allow the slow slink 
Into a death of despair.
It’s all I have.
My destiny. 
Suicide,
Alcoholism,
Addiction, 
They’re a human affliction.
You know.

In this unflattering light
The American plight
Is brutally revealed
As a battle field,
A hard slog,
An uncomfortable
Human Truth.
Not living,
Existing.

If I hurt
You can hurt too.
You don’t give 
A shiny shit
About me.
Never have.
I’m discarded
Like trash
This is my
Last desperate
Dash 
For change.

Our humanity’s entwined
Our country defined
By the way 
That we love
One another.
My final plea is
Not only for me,
Please open your eyes
And your heart
Don’t set us apart.
We are the unsavory.
See.

Dirty old mankind.
"Not all who wander are lost"
​~JRR Tolkien


Contact Laura