FOUR POEMS by RON BARTON
The Birds
Beware the birds, my child,
the claws that scratch,
the beaks that peck.
It is natural to fear them,
They flock outside your doors,
propel themselves into your windows,
stare at you with glassy eyes.
That is why we name them
an unkindness
a siege
a squadron
a murder.
That is why we associate them
with death.
American Psycho
There is an idea,
a vague sense of identity,
an entity whose routine
is comparable to our own
but in the privacy of his own home
he peels back the mask
to reveal that all is not black or white.
The corporate world
is kill or be killed
and the destruction of others
is but another notch
in one’s belt,
another record for the collection—
success is built on murders
and acquisitions, mergers
and executions.
We satirise our excess
in status, success, and sex
but all for naught.
This poem has meant nothing.
An American Werewolf in London
When the guilt of survival
makes a monster out of us
we struggle to let go
of visions of the past;
friendships lost
threaten new relationships
just as our lived experiences
threaten to break us down.
Ultimately, when it is time to die,
we exit the world as we entered it—
naked and loved.
Doctor Sleep
A palimpsest of style;
Flanagan on
King on
Kubrick.
Here the shine
is steam
and feeds
parasitic nomads.
These are the darkly psychic,
deathly sidekicks
of Rose the Hat.
Her movements should not be
overlooked,
nor should Danny’s
—now Dan,
all grown up
and still trying to
step out of the shadow
of his father.
Only a little
Abra kadabra
magic
will help him see the light.
Ron Barton is a teacher, poet, and TEDx speaker from Perth.