Empty house
filling it up with notes,
beats,
and outspoken poems.
– Written by my Nephew, Christian Allen Baker, poeticized by yours truly.
September 13, 2011
just in case you didn’t see it on FB
My love,
though we’ve been married nine years now – I’ve not had enough of you,
I may never have enough of you,
I may never be satiated by your lips, your face, your body beautiful.
I want you now, I want you always – I will never stop loving you, not even at nothing.
Allow me to hold your heart forever in my hands and I shall walk slowly, deliberately so as not to disturb our ever seeded affections, our ever strengthening love.
Happy Anniversary my love.
– your melancholic man
September 11, 2011
poem – September, eleven in the year of our lord 2001
depending on who you ask
150,000 – 165,000 deaths on Sept, 11 2001
less than 10,000 by violent hands.
a mother watches her child dying
wont of only gardened food or grains stocked and rotting in US silos
A husband watches his wife, unable to cope or help
or feed or clothe
wont of only a medicine produced in mass but patented
a brother holds a brother…
a sister holds a sister…
they group together for warmth or shade from an unforgiving sun
all 150-165,000 of them are sons and daughters
brother and sisters
in time, space
50,000 under 5 years never knowing their first love
-Hoc Scripsi
September 10, 2011
we are dramatic by design, confused by normalcy – from a conversaton with MC
What some poem said in 31
I wish it was cancer, simple – to the point and either death or cure would deliver me without question.
I wish I could offer you that radiance, that moment.
what some poem wrote in 31.
the projectionist asleep
aisles full of faces, a thousand faces
and sorrowed malaise
the colors saturated
the film jumpy
like an old film with the tracking off
muffled vocal intonation
and a sharp disjoint from yesterday morning
where I sat with coffee and dunhill internationals
and an aspect of understanding
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 