April 21, 2013

a luddite in the 21st century

by jhon baker

I have a subject in mind

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

Judas Iscariot, and I’ve been writing him

for months

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

drinking coffee and listening to the symphony

with projects that need attention all around.

at one time I thought I would stand while writing

to allow the body to sway into part of the meter.

but now I just sit here and type.

BANG BANG BANG

on the keyboard of a typewriter

a luddite in the 21st century

attracted buy the trappings of Steve Jobs innovations

but preferring to still use my old IBM

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

I’m trying to reach Judas Iscariot through song

to no avail, through prayer

but I don’t believe.

a hard poem to write and little is known

so I make it up and type on

BANG BANG BANG

really striking the keys though it makes no difference

to the imprint on the paper

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

later today I will rewrite this poem into my iMac

computer that’s sitting twenty feet away

and wonder why I didn’t write it there in the first place

but I know I know I know

and I will sit here again tomorrow and do the same thing

with coffee, symphony music and projects all around

that need attention that they will not receive.

but that isn’t what this poem is about.

 

what is this poem about?

I don’t know.

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April 11, 2013

Ramble

by jhon baker

I am willful and my mind is scattered. I have nothing to write about at present though my moleskine is filling with ideas and treatments. short thoughts. Once, when I was young I thought to be a cartoonist was the ideal for me – but I made a better comedian and only made the family laugh once at the kitchen table – I am not depressed but hauntingly even. Not going insane is a new thing for me and I haven’t been enjoying the anxiety that comes with waiting for the other side of this enjoyment. The drugs work but I don’t like how they work – this is normal. Call me Mr. Jones.

But my main ambition as a child was to be a writer and catalog what made my aspect seem to feel as though I had been ill my whole life. I still feel that way and now am broken by this and an SUV that blew off a stop sign. Such is life.

Listening to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with my family while my son works on a research report on Beethoven and this is a wonderful moment. I can never write to Beethoven – as if he had said everything that there is to say and the power with which he says it cannot be matched.

I recently finished a longer poem – long for me stretching to three pages and am now mostly concerned about where to place it.

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March 26, 2013

so what!

by jhon baker

So, I haven’t posted in a while… So What?

I have no skin, but a basketful of protections from the sun and I am waiting for the coffee to brew at 4:43 pm. What I have in my cup is cold and coffee isn’t meant to be enjoyed cold – no matter what you or your fancy coffee iced lattes think. For coffee to be anygood cold it has to be brewed with a double batch of grounds and served over ice – even then I cannot stand it but normal coffee ice cold is no good, damn you and your alternate opinions. This is where the advantage goes to tea – I pour a hot cup of tea and drink some, forgetting about it for awhile and when I return to it it has become cold as forgotten things do – but I can drink it regardless of this as tea can be served hot or cold at the same strength.

advantage: Tea – but I enjoy coffee more and it is why I smoke now – to further enhance the coffee experience out in my garage where there is no organization but an ashtray and my motorcycle. Also a BB Gun to shoot raccoons in the ass when they get too friendly.

I just finished a Novel where one of the secondary characters suffers the same mental aberration as I and as where I can normally identify with my characters like this I found this character to be a reflection of popular symptoms and not reality – or his mental depravity was too close to home and I divorced my mental aspect from his. In the end the book wasn’t very good and failed to live up to the promise that the authors previous work had made. Now I am rereading “Dream Songs” by the one and only, John Berryman. This is never a let down no matter how many times I read them.

 

coffee, cigarettes and waiting

 

I am staring at this black piece of paper

with four poems waiting to be written;

drinking coffee but

wonting for something else entirely.

my ears are dirty with grime

and later I’ll shower.

right now I am not adjacent to godliness

but God doesn’t drink coffee

or smoke endless cigarettes turning on the next line.

 

my poetry isn’t in vogue at present

and I cannot support what is.

Bukowski imitators.

and I am going gray;

easily depressed by these rejections,

waiting for more coffee to brew

so I can kill myself

with these several cigarettes

or maybe a gun.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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February 25, 2013

poem

by jhon baker

god, or somebody,

bless

him

 

I take the doctors pink and white pills

and the blue/green one

with water before bed and

again when I wake up

everyday

and, supposedly,

they keep me sane and stable.

 

it’s not pleasant to die on the cross

or in back alleys and one way streets.

 

when I’m sick I swallow vitamins

and drink a lot of orange juice.

it helps.

and my hair doesn’t fall out

any faster then the approaching middle age.

I do not have cancer

though I smoke a pack a day.

 

It’s not charming to be awoken after dying

without permissions from the dead.

 

yesterday I spent an

inordinate amount of time in bed

for no reason

and had a lot of dreams,

none of which I remember now.

life, is boring – Henry says

and friends, I believe him

 

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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