Posts tagged ‘fuck off poem’

June 16, 2010

I’ll allow the poem to speak for itself

by jhon baker

PISS OFF

ya know, I
don’t want this to be a
tit for tat kind of thing, but,
it’s been bugging me lately.
I mean to say that I am
not losing sleep, but,
what in the hell have I
done to put you off?
there are a myriad of ways
that I could have or might have
or probably have or what have you. what?
but but but there is not
enough information in this
equation to sum it. so,
just tell, spill, let it be known,
there may be apology, there may not,
there may be a laugh. what motivates people
always makes me laugh, or cry, or cringe, or
just be open mouth surprised but normally
the laughter takes over, as motivation is
mostly funny in a funny way for funny sake,
but, back on point; the plot now needs to have
resolution and you need to allow the – it – to
see light and maybe get a little water.
there may, after all, be a little sympathy.
or
or
or
just fuck it,
burn the letters.
kiss off, piss off, but,
give my love to your wife.

 – Hoc Scripsi

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May 17, 2010

slowing down also known as writers block

by jhon baker

a creative drought and slowing down. I’ve always hated the term writers block because I am not blocked by anything – especially writers. More than that I am simply not writing well lately which this triggers the fear that I will not write well ever again and have I ever written well. My version of writers blockade is that the ideas may come and there are no words to accompany it, no way in so I bite my bottom lip and try but even the typing is off and uninspired.
the last poem I wrote – the last thing of any value that I had written was a short poem that talks about fingering the muse – maybe I’ve offended the inspiration by thinking too much of my work and not enough of the source. Today’s poem is not that poem. Today’s was written at a point of high creativity – when the muse was working overtime and would wear me out daily, like a good lover or construction labor.

too lax to title

fuck you.
I’m tired, 

it was nthing
or something
                           I forget
butitdoesn’tmatteranyway
Like I said
Fuck you,
I am not working anymore tonight
not for you or anyone
I’m too god damned tired
and sore
I can feel the plate
it’s sickening
            like
watching you squirm when
I type out –
you’re wearing the wrong
size underwear

regardless,
I will not write
           this
           for you
    tonight

   I am too fucking worn
from the day.
   

pt. 2

of course I lie.
I’m tired
    worn
sore
like a man after a days
work
and you know whatitslike
bang
        bang
                bang
all fucking day

   so, goodnight love.
xxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx
Let’s do it again tomorrow.

April 27, 2010

suppose to be colder today, if you believe in such things.

by jhon baker
as the weather man/woman’s predictions – but they are false idols.

Barely awake, managing to sleep in later today (till 7:30am), while not regretting it, thinking I should be a lot more awake by now.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon shifting a pile of logs into a more orderly pile of logs, and looking at the plethora of felled oak left to split. What I need is a small group of strapping young men to effort my garden woes away for the year. I’ll mow and seed, whatever from the comfort and fun of my smallish tractor, but all that remains needs another bloke to care about it and money more than I do.
Tchaikovsky will sober you in the morning.
Just when I expect there to be fresh coffee, inevitably, it is old or empty.
This time it was brewing.
I’ve trained my ear to hear the beep of the coffee maker above all other static. beep beep – ready and I must move as ‘Rosie the Robot’ doesn’t work here – beep beep beep and I have to make more if I want to keep this caffeine high going until I fall to sleep.
I am still trying to train my ear to simply wipe out all the static to hear only the tintinnabulating in my ears from the years of playing in rock bands. If I can manage it then I will be able to write anywhere, as it is I need the quietness of my home or a quietness much like it. Coffee shops are right out but having run two of them I can tell you that no-one likes a guy on a laptop in a coffee shop. A typewriter now, that is tolerated slightly better but only if you are carrying a loaded weapon. Ive never tried the typewriter in a cafe thing as I live in Illinois and it may be illegal here to even admit you have a firearm.
I am babbling and listening to Tchaikovsky, waiting for the double beep of the coffee maker.
no-one minds the guy with a notebook neatly scribbling away anymore though. Interesting. Once the iPad is in the hands of every one then laptops will be okay I think. Or it might be now with the proliferation of texting, sexting and general bathroom graffiti.

but none of this is important. none of this gets me a cup of coffee any faster than my good leg will propel my body to get what it is that is desired.

I am tired of writing letters to people who never write back. I owe a letter to one guy who writes back but lives so close I think I ought to simply invite him over.
Maybe next time I send a letter I will include a sase and paper.

Letter #2104 (one I don’t want)

got your letter.

it reads like a broken heart
(miss our after moments

be mine again)
love letter.

it isn’t is it?
or what is it.

I wonder what it is you really miss.
is it me, or the attention I gave you.
is it our conversations or that you got to
feel important for the afternoon.
is it our supposed friendship or, now, 
you are bored.

I am not your midnight man.
I am not your backdoor lover.
only that which I have
always been for you,
a stranger on a distant
beach looking the other way;
or turned around
or something else entirely.

what’s the least awkward thing to
say here.

what is it?
                   you woke up this morning
and want me to care.

you see…
it fucks up my whole day.

 – Hoc Scripsi

April 12, 2010

Guardame Las Vacas

by jhon baker

Monday morning and my brain has ceased working sometime over the weekend. Maybe yesterday when I thought it was a good idea to go to a range and fire off two-hundred rounds. Fifty with a colt .45 Revolver, Fifty with a .38 Special and the final hundred with a Walther P22; I had abandoned ear protection. Everything but the loss of my ear protection was a good idea. I obliterated a home-made target and my index finger got some excellent exercise.
Had an interesting conversation about cows with my shooting partner yesterday. I would like to own a cow as a pet but I would think it would get lonely and create a mess in the house. I love the cows, my favorite animal really. I always wave when I see them and someday I hope that they will wave back. Interestingly enough – cows do not graze facing east or west and in herds all face the same north or south direction while grazing. This was only discovered because of google earth.
Anyway, I don’t keep books in my truck and rarely travel with something to read. I am more inclined to observe and be meditative with my surroundings and may puke if I try to read as a passenger – reading as a driver is nearly as bad – more blood and less vomit.
Guardame las Vacas, is one of my favorite pieces to play on guitar.

these are more or less unrelated except thought their progenitor. 

X8mX

I’m happy to say that
I haven’t heard from you in awhile.

I guess… how are you?
what you been doing,
are you working.
how is the family if you
    have one.
is that a new car.
did you ever solve that
    crossword.
is your whoever still ailing,
or has the obligatory disease
killed them off yet.
is your day to day in
good griping order…
and whatever other questions
that I have accidentally left off
should now be answered in
whatever order you like.

me? I am roughly the same
and still disinterested
in this general conversation.

– Hoc Scripsi

February 26, 2010

–title missing–

by jhon baker
one of these days
I’ll get around to
being amazed
by you
by the things that
you say
by the way
you dress
by the beer that
you drink
by the cigars you
smoke or
the considerable
lies on which you
will choke

– I wrote this

Just now actually – I am beginning to be more prolific lately and am quite glad of it. Maybe not leaving my house and burning bridges is where it’s at.

Here it is – 

Or is this overused?
Maybe this instead…

 
okay then, have a great weekend!

I think I need more medication.

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