Cliqued in the finesse
Of bestowing decrees, I swallow it
Soaked up by long-in-tooth conventions,
Machinations smart-arsing the no-accounts.
Righto, you structure by hush-hushes,
Kick off the coming bloodshed.
You made trap-doors alright;
In the sewer try bobbing along.
Inconsiderate – your Simian good looks,
Strew in knock-kneed rain. Convictions
Of ‘tactics’ gist –
Someone’s tackling to string-pull
War is a gargled-earth malodour.
Muffled drum. The matter of daring,
A bare anthropological index.
The New Politics Are Dead
Right path whores
With pit-a-pat scowls
Had flesh that made thunder certain.
Sprung, seven senses – they’ll tangle you
In the eye.
We’re divided from gallows.
Unreplenished of possessions.
Smuggled banners jolt.
Dishevelled see-saw resistance
Death rattles treading damp steps
Set forward by the living.
Christopher Barnes' first collection LOVEBITES is published by Chanticleer. He is a participant writer for http://www.stemistry.com/ and reads at Poetry Scotland's Callendar Poetry Weekends. He also has art criticism published in Peel and Combustus magazines.