Posts tagged ‘Death’

November 3, 2014

The plague

by jhon baker

I’ve been down with a plague of sorts – Bronchitis and the flu, fun stuff.

The death of my brother and a continued concentration on music – the poetry has suffered greatly.

Now I’ve been reminded that I haven’t posted in a while and I am better for the reminder as I need this reminder to live on my doorstep and ring the bell occasionally. Perhaps something new will happen that isn’t heart wrenching or energy draining. Perhaps I shall eat all the leftover Halloween candy and find this lost energy and slip into the manic side of my personality defects. In the meantime I’ve lubricated my old trumpet to have as a backup for a show I’m suppose to be playing the next two weekends should my Yamaha horn fail me or fall on the steps I am to climb. I’ve already missed opening weekend which made the director scramble for a last minute replacement that played air trumpet to a midi – file recording of my part. I’m sure live it would sound better or worse – I haven’t practiced it with the accompaniment – only solo and am sure that I’ve jazzed it up beyond what is called for. But how badly can one screw up – “Singing in the Rain” – surely not as bad as one can screw up something with more than six notes. I suppose there is an F# in there but it is not being played for this particular application of rain singing.

 

in a moment we become only photographs

visions in fading memories

 

 

April 18, 2014

poem

by jhon baker

the obvious end

death

and the mystery of it.

love is a chemical thing,

there is only mystery for the uninformed.

 

but

still I love

and soon will die;

the poetry of death is inexhaustible.

the poetry of flowers and birds is equally inexhaustible.

and when it rains everyone writes poetry about the rains.

 

but

we still think of a rising sun

a setting sun

in ignorance that it is the earth

that rotates on an invisible axis.

that we are always in motion,

balancing with the flat of out feet,

sometimes on our knees.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

September 9, 2013

we are the lucky ones

by jhon baker

– in part for Richard Dawkins

 

I don’t enjoy needed tears of rejuvenation

or the venerability of emotional transendance

 

the heart pumps

from ventricle to ventricle

through fifty miles of capillaries

blood that offers life

and one day must stop cold

 

and we are the lucky ones

so said

for we are here when so many

never were

 

– Hoc Scripsi

November 11, 2012

From ‘hands on the hips’

by jhon baker

Meditation on the death of a soldier

 

life ended abruptly by the

bullet of another’s weapon

paid for by a master neither

one of you has ever met

weapon that was cleaned

with as much care as yours

and placed firmly in hand by

another country such as yours

and without thought, fired to

bring ends to ideals and have

certain glory from gods or God

fired a bullet that ended it’s

own journey in your body

your body, which lies there

weapon in hand that surely would

have ended the bullets owner

if given the chance

 

this is the death that you have chosen

 

as if picked out from a catalogue

listed under ‘means of dispatch’

and you nation mourns forgetting

your choice

never blaming the decisions

that placed you there

yours and your masters

 

but I am colder and I cheer

not at your death but

at the end you were able to choose

for yourself

I am not so lucky and

I will die unknowing from where

the bullets came

September 22, 2011

by jhon baker

Today I awoke to news of the death of a potentially innocent man. I have had nothing to say since and now this is all I could think of.

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