Posts tagged ‘John Berryman’

April 16, 2014

late night posting

by jhon baker

Lying in bed and finding typing difficult to do with any sense of rhythm.

I have Clifford Brown queued up on the iPod and Dawkins as my nighttime reading.

I type now, in the dark, by touch alone.

Medications have been taken and callouses removed, Ruger LC9 on the nightstand – I am naked ready for action.

My nails are long and the moon, nearly full, is no longer blood, calling for the end of times.

I rest easy – thinking long thoughts about David Ignatow, Russia, and the wars in general.  I am not a purveyor of the selfie or silly quizzes though I take them out of boredom. I am heavy bored because I lack inner resources. Thank you John Berryman.

My wife wears too many clothes.

 

 

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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

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

December 26, 2012

post holiday lego building

by jhon baker

Listening to The Black Keys and sitting with my son while he builds his Lego Teenage Mutant Turtle sets, earlier I built one of my own Lego sets. Big Ben. As an adult there is still the ever burning love for Lego.

The main concern after holidays is where to put all the new stuff – in my case it isn’t hard as I got clothes I needed, a few seasons of my favorite television show and a lot of books – but for the boy, more toys means a need to clear out space and think about donating things he has aged out of.

There is really nothing I have to say here. I am mostly out of the depression that lasted beyond my ability to handle – four months of complete darkness preceded by decent creative impulses and followed by a stiff climb out and a slight return to forms of creativity. I have started several poems and am thinking my way though the basic outline of a novel/memoir with embellishments and the ability to deny anything – This story is based on realish events and the people have altered names and are realish representations of the folks that they are modeled after – liberties will be taken where I do not want to relive certain things and where the truth is too strange to be believed. Nothing will be cranked up beyond reality because reality itself is often itself unbelievable. If I write it as fiction I can always deny that the hero of the tome is myself and as I’ve often said of poetry…

– never confuse the narrator of the poem with its author –

sound advice.

I think John Berryman said it first or best – I know it wasn’t my brain to come up with it and once I had heard the valuable teaching I was free then to really create. Some constraints are good and some work against you like good friends who never want us to become successful.

I was going to put a poem here but I think I’ll post twice instead.  – Jhon

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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