Archive for March, 2010

March 31, 2010

joy, obsession, fixation

by jhon baker

Happy Birthday Rene Descartes, but you had it wrong – it is not that you think and you know you are but – I feel pain, therefore I am.

So, here is what I am thinking, liberals don’t know anything simply because they want to rid the world of legally owned guns – owned by responsible people, Conservatives want people to retain their rights and keep gun. Well, what does it mean that we have weaponry? simply that the government cannot become fascist without our consent. I believe the liberals want to take over and control and the old moderate conservative wants freedom. I think something of late is backwards. But this is all true.

only the poor know of love’s intensity/ you, the business man, know only of mergers (marriage)/thus propagating the common ideal.// for love you merge the bodies (sex)/thus propagating life./love, joy, obsession, fixation, release/ and good sleep.

Now I don’t know what I am thinking and here is a poem.

got this machine to work again poetry


acid-free paper.
jalopy typewriter that
hasn’t been oiled in years.
I’ve quit smoking, drinking et al.
mostly I wonder if I can still write
worth a goddamn.


air condenses outside and on
my water glass.
temps in the mid-sixties or whatnot.
the cat sounds and I know that he wants
but the food is upstairs and put away
the cat can find a mouse
or eat a spider, I don’t care…

there is no innocence in the thoughts
of the 30 year old man,
no matter what they tell you.
and don’t trust what women say
when they want something.

they always want something.


I have disembarrassed myself from my original family
this was a necessary move. they should call me a genius
for leaving them in affect, to suffer their own drama.

my own little family needs me to be emotionally available for them
and I can’t do that if I am tied up in fictitious drama, especially
one that disinterests so much. Maybe we’ll miss the gossip, but I
think we’ll learn to cope.


Okay, okay…

I’ll be the fucking messiah.
I don’t see that anyone else wants the job.

maybe it’s the bloody end that makes people
re-think the position.

but fuck it,
I’m not doing anything else;
might as well shit can the rest of my life
as I’ve done a bang up job so far.

I might as well be the messiah
I don’t see how anyone else is pulling for it,
and there is no nepotism now due to HR
and the EOEA.

After all,
I was right about that one thing
that once
wasn’t I.

and to wrap now – 6.

it doesn’t matter how much I do
or how courteous I am,

it is always about you.

– I wrote this.

I make no apology for myself.

March 30, 2010

too beautiful

by jhon baker

Happy birthday Van Gogh, born in 1853. I wonder why all my Heroes are supposedly mentally unstable? Van Gogh was simply too beautiful for this world. I think that the mentally unstable are not so, just able to see the world with different eyes. Well, maybe only the creative ones. There are people who are effing nuts and should be locked away with electrocution on a daily basis or whatever it takes to make them become overly fond of a reclining chair and day time television.

one of my favorite paintings.
there are a lot of favorite Van Gogh, in love with your brush stroke and colors since I turned about 4ish.
thank you.
I often wonder at the fragility of the self in the mind of others. I am not sure I care as I am able to not. Although I was kicked out of the drama club for being strange and I went to a fairly liberal HS. Anyway…
 This last one is my painting from a few years ago titled ‘funeral for a friend’ – I am thinking now that I should use my own paintings for my impending books cover.  I had e-mailed Chelsea Martin about it as I like what she does but now I am thinking differently. She does great work by the way which I will attest to as I’ve recently legally acquired a few of her books. In ‘everything was fine until whatever’ I like the small little poems at the bottom of the pages – not all though pages though, some are lacking fine printing.
The photograph isn’t as good as the painting, the black is reflective and has given the painting a false texture. Then again, I’ve seen some of my favorite Van Gogh paintings in person and those photos do not do justice to the actual painting either. I am not saying that I am a Van Gogh. I am a Jhon Baker.
Beethoven string quartets now, I cannot cope with Ludwig though. Simply his work invades me in such a manner that I lose time.
early memories of erections  I sometimes miss the fat
lunch ladies from grade school
with their tiny feet

sporting vans and moo-moo
dresses behind cheap
pizza stained aprons.
two brunettes and a blonde
flowing hair hidden under plastic caps;
hair, which I once saw, revealed
at the grocery store with my mother;
where I accidently fawned,
where my mother scolded me
for staring, she knew
how I secretly wanted.
the thought disgusted her
but I still think of them
fondly. their great warmth
and large flesh.
– I wrote this

the thing I like most about being home is my coffee. I make the best coffee on the planet. This can be attested to by several friends, Physical terrorists (therapists), nurses, and my wife. I was trained by two different coffee companies to make coffee and I have now created my own method that is far superior for the home brewer. being out of the house is becoming increasingly difficult. This may be impounded that I don’t leave the house much so I am becoming accustomed only my coffee and only my wife’s food and only my opinions (and my wife’s as well). That and I think most people are assholes and not caring to surround myself with assholes it is simply easier to stay at home.

March 29, 2010

strange day already – @ 8:23 AM

by jhon baker

Strange day already.
Brothers birthday and an old friends.
Happy birthday.
I realize that I am hitting enter after full sentences and not caring.
Doctors today and such.
about to hop in the shower and go out to Hampshire Napa with my son.
today may contain no other poetry than what follows here…


I’m happy to say that
I haven’t heard from you in awhile.

I guess… how are you?
what you been doing,
are you working.
how is the family if you
have one.
is that a new car.
did you ever solve that
is your whoever still ailing,
or has the obligatory disease
killed them off yet.
is your day to day in
good griping order…
and whatever other questions
that I have accidentally left off
should now be answered in
whatever order you like.

me? I am roughly the same
and still disinterested
in this general conversation.

– I wrote this.

March 28, 2010

"being shot is not an everyday thing but it doesn’t surprise me."

by jhon baker

The man gets shot and he simply goes on. “I’m not afraid… of anything” – Werner Herzog

he says about Timothy Treadwell (aka Grizzly Man) “he’s a member of the family, he had something volatile, something broken, something dark, something inexplicably wild about him.”

On universal Harmony – “I believe the common denominator of the universe is not harmony but chaos, hostility and murder.”

on death – “one, I will not film a snuff film. Two, there is such a thing as dignity and privacy of an individuals death…”

about being shot at the outset of the interview – “I think bottom line is the poet must not avert his eyes. You have to take a bold look at what is in your environment what is around you even the ugly things, even the decadent things, even the dangerous things…

about being defeated by [it] “of course it is out there but so what I’ve done battle and I’ve been a good soldier…”

I couldn’t help but post this once I found it. It is not about what I think about Timothy Treadwell but about what Werner says during the interview.

March 27, 2010

awoke in my own bed

by jhon baker

 I awoke in my own bed this morning still worn out from the previous days driving. I do not regret my life.
By this I mean that I have lived hard and worn out my body. By this I mean that I have loved fully and still love completely my wife and son. By this I mean I may be crazy and have gotten that way from various treatments, concussions, drug and alcohol abuse and there is more, but for today and yesterday I think that I do not regret my life as once I could drive California to Chicago in thirty hours and still be okay after and now two days and 1100 miles with a few wrong turns has shown my endurance and that I do not regret my life.


having endured years of pain
and feeling like a crippled

I now have this painted
deep red four walls with a

couch room where I can do all of
my writing
without any concern of troubling anyone

even at 3 am.
I take naps on the couch brought from
ikea for around 800 bucks, it

has no real comfort but does
not make my back sore and
I do not have to move while sleeping to

I have a small desk on wheels
that a typewriter sits along side

a half empty box of 20 lb
fine business paper on which I compose
all my typewritten drafts.

a book shelf mainly occupied by typewriters,
clocks, a skeleton, amithaba and
a picture of 20 cats my

son drew first for his grandmother
then his mother and finally me.
I keep a massive dictionary in case

I need to consider a word or a spelling on
a cart like the one for the typewriter but grey.
My chair isn’t that comfortable but that

is best. Too relaxed and I will not write
too much or too well if I write at all.
and that of writing,

I don’t do too much of that now
I have a place in which to perform it.

 – I wrote this

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