poem

by jhon baker

As a child I would often look up to the outlaw or the seeming enemy. It was for his bravery, daring, disgust with the law creator. Today in 1918 one of my earliest and most beloved heroes was killed by the allied forces, the name of the pilot who shot him down escapes me now but my hero is/was Manfred Von Richthofen, the bloody Red Baron. I don’t think it’s that odd or anything, there are many boys who would want to be looked up to like that but one of the things I often would admire was that he was killed. Later in life I would liken him to Billy the Kid (who fought not for country) and Federico Garcia Lorca (killed for being a poet). As noted before many of my heroes kill themselves while some die of old age. What I didn’t mention was that there are a lot who are murdered for being who they were.When greatness is recognized there is no recognition of Country. Even the British buried him with Military Honors as he was deserving. I also admit that I would not like to see the reign of hell he would have brought if he lived, but death doesn’t allow the extraordinary to be such for too long, death or worse shuts the door suddenly.
going into war and perishing in it is not that different from suicide really, it is only easier to connect to the reason the person has died. The Red Baron flew in the face of his enemy and taunted them, baited death until it arrived. This is not the action of a stable brain.






POEM

S. Michigan Ave. & 43rd
or thereabout.
Standing south corner
looking up, with
nothing particular in mind.
 
–  Hoc Scripsi


listening to Arcangelo Corelli and I am thinking that most of my out put lately has been written to his music or silence. Such Perfect Baroque.
my hands are abused badly. Cuts, scrapes and dry cracking. I can’t remember to use any kind of lotion unless I see it staring at me from the corner or counter. it hurts to type a little on this slim apple keyboard and they are not looking giddily with anticipation at moving over to the Selectric III later. The doctor tells me to wash my hands less than I do but they feel like they have a coating, an extra skin of grime so that my fingers don’t want to touch each other or anything else for that matter. Right now they sting to wash but no matter I will distract myself suddenly and be done with it. 
This is also how to learn to fly according to the late Douglas Adams. Throw yourself at the ground and at the last moment – become distracted. I’ve tried this with no success. I would imagine that it would be easier to accomplish whilst heavily drinking but then I also think it would be less than intelligent to operate yourself while intoxicated while flying around as it opens worlds of things that you can now bump into.


Don’t forget Literary Tonic.

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4 Comments to “poem”

  1. I hate this fucking computer… That was several moments of my life creating a comment that disappeared before I could post it

    Now I don't want to say it, maybe later. I'll be back

  2. Hello John Baker;
    Thank you for posting your link to my my wall on facebook.
    Love to have you visit my Blog as well.
    Adriana Sassoon Today I'm gonna try a little harder,Gonna make every minute last longer,Gonna learn to forgive and forget,Today I'm gonna love my enemies,Reach out to somebody who needs me,Make a change, make the world a better place.Cause tomorrow could be one day too late……………..

    Be the E ,Be the Change.Earth day 40th birthday…

    http://adrianasassoon.wordpress.com/2010/04/21/earth-day/

  3. Hey JhonZ:

    It facinates me that we sometimes idolize people, at all… Why? For some percieved great quality? Or, the doing of some great thing? I guess. We appear to isolate these “heroes” from ourselves; encapsulate them within some lofty ideal.
    Thereafter, death finally and fully removes any remaining human frailties/qualities ever associated with that person. Perhaps the banal and mundane human characteristics that we regularly overlook in our heroes are the very same characteristics that, if we actually observed them in our heroes, would remove the magic. For example, when I was in grade school/jr. high I began to idolize Jim Morrison/the Doors. I do Still love the music and his poetry and such. He was a good performer etc. Yet, many years ago when I read “No One Here Gets Out Alive” and years afterward when I saw the Hollywood movie “The Doors” I had other observations to make. Such as: “Gee this guy is just a dick-head. He terrorizes those around him. Imagine having to endure him for a few hours? If this guy said/did that to me I'd swat him in the snout and knock out his teeth.” I've made some other connections too. Yours for example. No doubt Baron Von Richtoffen was a great pilot. He was also a killer. He was a killer pilot, if you will. Anyway, more importantly, he was a military officer and a killer and a pilot. Need I mention he was also of the landed nobility class; a Baron, after all. Just see if you can imagine the level of arrogance in this man? Maybe he was a sweet, caring, epicurean, docile in nature, who wrote poetry and selflessly ladled soup to retards on his days off. …or perhaps not.

    C.Pierce

  4. I idolize no one – I do not believe in that sort of idolatry, I speak of heroes as I know I am yours but you do not idolize me now do you?
    Otherwise very interesting. My admiration of the Baron, is the skill with which he would kill and the brash nature he invited his violent death. Most people of admirable quality are often assholes in life, so I try to not learn too much otherwise accept the human frailty that is all of us.
    As for Jim Morrison, that book and subsequent movie which one was based on the other were written by a person with an adz to sharpen. He was not always the raging alcoholic that was portrayed.
    nevertheless my good friend, it was an excellent comment.

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