Archive for ‘Poetry’

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March 13, 2012

poem

by jhon baker

skies painted dioxazine, phthalocyanine,
violet, prussian, phthalo blues and greens
cerulean and sunkissed naples yellow

portraits of madmen at 35 and aging
midnight scenes on the arroyo
crossing the black waters of Lethe
held fast to the stern

I have ultramarine oils
smeared across my forehead
because of you

butterflies in my beard
and cadmium red
staining my fingertips
because of you

we have met under porches
moonlit nights
waltzing, caroling

my heart has broken
handheld and shopped for nothings
with birds singing
and faces picked up in backyards

 

– Hoc Scrispi

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March 11, 2012

a poem

by jhon baker

This is intended to be read aloud – read quietly to your self and you may miss the point.

 

 

I am Lazarus

 

walking from the car

to the doctors office,

I am Lazarus.

sick, shaking, agitated,

waking up everyday,

I am Lazarus.

 

call for me at the window!

I’ll let down my holy beard,

read you a turn, a strophe,

carefully with open eyes.

 

look at my walk!

how I limp, sadly moving,

my feet crash to the ground!

 

Look at my chest, how it breathes

how my heart beats!

look at my eyes, they see,

emote, tell!

 

see you listening,

see you reading, see you

who have not died,

who are not blessed to live long.

 

pain! strife! peace! war!

goddess Aphroditie!

god Ares!

I am Lazarus! I know you!

 

death,

I’m addressing you.

I have died already,

you have already taken my spirit, soul;

I will not fear you any longer.

life,

I have already gone past you,

crossed to the other shore,

I shall not fear you any longer.

 

I am Lazarus!

call for me at my door!
there we’ll meet,

lock gaze and I’ll sing! dance!

Laugh! with butterflies in my beard.

hummingbirds at my ears.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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March 6, 2012

once again

by jhon baker

I am on my back porch as it is a balmy 65 here in northern Illinois. This has been a hard, depressive year for me thus far and I cannot be surprised by my lack of posting, writing and doing anything productive in general.

I’ve read a lot.

Now I am reading less and starting to write more.

I have little to say. but I am enjoying the sun on my back porch, the sun on my face, the sun lying across my body. the wind through my beard and what little hair that is allowed to grow.

wind chimes are dissonant. Cage melodies without the artistic intent. satellite dishes make beautiful houses repugnant. trees look better fully dressed and ready for the rain.

fresh air serves me well, this is still winter but all signs of such have melted, receded into thirsty earth and now that I am out here – I am loathe to go back in.

that is all I have to say.

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February 26, 2012

A repost but I’ve been inspried to put this poem out there again today.

by jhon baker

a poem redacted, preface – JB

 

startled by impact

cumulative

a hunger for youth

 

he was fifty

J had seemed much older

as though

absorbed and consumed

in the very intensity

of his memory.

 

a matter of life

and death.

 

his ambition propelled

a

striking photograph in Life magazine

 

it would be eleven years.

his amours

turmoil

consumption of alcohol

alchemized

to represent the agon

essential attributes

syntax

tone

diction

cadenzas on carefully

tuned strings

allusion

meter

primal manifestations

to be difficult, “obscure”

obscene.

 

a besetting consideration

narrative accounts

or

the world seen through inebriation

dreams

a disjointed film

shapes

presences

identities

sometimes in mid sentence

often presumption

singular

voice and vision

effeminate

intimated, elusive

wild,

unbearably beautiful.

– Hoc Scripsi

 

and what the hell – here is another on the same subject…

 

 

October 25th

 

October 25th

and we celebrate the birth

of John Berryman.

heavy with the burden

of his smashed skull

and dream songs.

 

his final entry a comment

on the Washington Avenue bridge

in Minneapolis Minnesota.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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