I was relieved not to find any mobs with torches and pitchforks outside the Living Poetry skyscraper last week expressing their outrage at my forgetting to post a prompt. There are certainly bigger things to be outraged about these days, global warming, corporate corruption, and the Oxford comma just to name a few, so this week let’s write an outrage poem.
You know what to do in the comments below.
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Living Poetry 
haha I figured you had other things to worry about and I had enough on my plate not to bother you. Appreciate you came back today.
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 26, 2020, 7:50 AMoutraged at the things
for which there is no control
but one thing for sure
my vote is signed, sealed, and delivered
counting down to single digits
that which can be controlled properly
well, one can hope
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 26, 2020, 7:53 AMJust eight days until the election is officially over. Glad you voted! Let’s hope for no shenanigans afterwards.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 26, 2020, 4:40 PMI have always voted. It would feel weird if I did not. I can’t wait until after next Tuesday and let’s hope there’s not a bunch of malarkey.
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 26, 2020, 4:45 PMThe Room of Dirty Black
‘Tis small, of queer shape
and smells of rot.
A hole in the ground
in dark quarters
of a busy town,
which passes by
on the other side
under bright sun,
sees no twilight
or smells the damp
of that hole in the ground.
‘Tis below a house
joined to another,
whispering ghosts
that echo and brood
about the dim light
in that queer little room,
where doors hang in torment
ceiling sags low
and the walls weep
in the face of a fire.
It exists
in a road stretched long
by half broken abodes.
This comfort is home
last corner to squat,
where the right to exist
Is fearsomely said
the last ditch rage
perpetually bled,
Water and blood
from a proud old black,
a scarred pair of boots
Hand-me-downs sold,
leather from a disused whip.
Tis a basement flat
‘Doctors orders’ Dirty Black.
The number that’s red,
a stab in the map.
The hymen grown over
the passage to birth
from Enterprise chamber
It’s a smell sight
that spits at the marbled halls
a thorn left out of a crucifix crown.
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Posted by TonyA.......... | October 26, 2020, 11:07 AMPowerful images. Thanks for sharing.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 26, 2020, 4:44 PMWrongs need to be challenged -thanks for your appreciation
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Posted by TonyA.......... | October 27, 2020, 5:42 AMWhat a story in this poem. It takes me back to the old haunts we visited as kids. And nice ending.
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 26, 2020, 4:48 PMSadly Lisa these hovels still exist
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Posted by TonyA.......... | October 27, 2020, 5:40 AMYes, unfortunately they do.
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 27, 2020, 7:40 AMOutrage
outrage are the worker bees
sweet honey they bleed to feed the upper chains
while their hives crumbling
they are bees by nature
they work to the ground
they are greedy beasts by nature
they kill for food
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | October 26, 2020, 6:16 PMAlways keep me on my toes!
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 26, 2020, 7:02 PM😃
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | October 26, 2020, 8:08 PMLove the “bleed to feed the upper chains while their hives crumble” That’s outrage!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 26, 2020, 7:11 PM😃
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | October 26, 2020, 8:08 PMYes ‘crumble’ 🙂 and thank you!
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | October 26, 2020, 8:12 PMTo the person who honked at me as I made a turn on the green and he ran the red
There was a driver most rude
He honked at me and ruined my mood
First scared, then I got mad
It was totally his bad
Of course, it was a truck-driving dude.
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Posted by JeanMarie | October 26, 2020, 6:50 PMGrrr-8 Sorry for the rat!
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | October 26, 2020, 7:01 PMHa! Limericks are good for outrage too. Great work!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 26, 2020, 7:10 PM