Posts tagged ‘medications’

July 3, 2013

When the coffee maker starts on fire

by jhon baker

I don’t post much but there isn’t really all that much I want to say. I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately but the concentration has been one pointed and into a realm that I don’t want to harp away at on my blog – see the previous post – but I need a new roof as this one has failed me (still thankful to have one), a new washer because the old one had failed me (so did the new one which I am receiving a replacement for today), the basement flooded and we are drying it out ever so slowly before relaying the carpet, and the coffee maker lit itself on fire of which we are using a back-up until we get around to replacing the old one.

It is important to always have a back-up coffee maker that gets occasional use to keep it working properly.

I haven’t been putting much out for publication either, though I spent the first few months of this year writing and a lot got written. I am wondering how it all turned out mostly. I am never a good judge of my own poetry – I either think it is all crap or all beyond compare – depending on my mental state and state of medications. At the moment I cannot recall the last submission which is still waiting in the wind for acceptance or denial and it is bad form to have simultaneous submissions which I have done and there is a handful of poems with multiple publishing credits. I’ve been hoping no one noticed and I don’t think anyone has. So, I wait for this last batch to be rejected or accepted before I start to send out more.

some poems

 

some poems take years to write

some only minutes

every other poem is in-between

and none so far has taken more.

 

like Bukowski, Williams, O’Hara

I am a writer of poems

short poems

long poems

most a few in-between

like all creatives I am

notoriously unreliable in action

chasing down the inspirations

with a stick in one hand

a pen in the other

months of missing my prey

and weeks of eating well

and growing fat

 

but I write on this IBM Selectric III

and drink coffee like it was religion

no longer getting drunk or drugging

my days away

and slipping into the nightgown of poetry.

now they all come fully dressed

with ten fingers typing

furiously in fits and starts

mostly done during the day.

 

I am nostalgia interrupted

a willful resemblance of another time

before my iMac and laptop dominated

my final drafts and submissions

email rejections or acceptances

 

I haven’t stamped an SASE in years

or walked to the mailbox hopeful or dreadful

waiting to throw away another poem

such as this.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

 

My beard is long and the shampoo that we are using makes it wiry. it is too wet to ride my motorcycle today. I am waiting for the new washer and I hate to wait. Not that I am impatient, but that I am interested in doing other things while my son is at camp and I can do other things. Tomorrow is the annual holiday of our independence (in the USA) and I don’t do much to celebrate it – even when invited to a party there are other things I’d rather be doing. I’d rather be writing even though I’ve no ideas and, for the moment, the inspira has found other avenues for its own expressions.

January 26, 2013

standards

by jhon baker

I’ve lowered my standards,
the problem might be that I had them in the first place.
you easily forget when you were at your best
in endless pursuit to surmount each previous work
and your output dwindles until you are
only writing fifty poems a year
which I guess is fine
though it is easier to say more if so inclined
and uninhibited
by meaningless constraints and various medications.

but don’t worry,
I’m still on the medications.

– Hoc Scripsi

May 21, 2012

catagory of no stipulation

by jhon baker

this moment is not so beautiful now

the booze of mental euphoria already in following morning

where headache rages

where rain creates a glow

and we eat eggs, hot sauce and drink water

staving off the more detrimental effects

but this is a category of no stipulation

and our efforts wasted

February 13, 2012

expanded abstract from reply to a comment

by jhon baker

I’m doing better now but still waiting for that creative energy that I normally posses. Lately I am finding most of my comfort in Kurt Vonnegut novels and such. I think I’ve written four poems so far this year and battling with the medications and things keep changing color… Coffee tastes good and Sunday was a day spent at home except for the lunch date with my son at a Buffalo wings joint.  I spent most of the waking day with KV and meant to get down to my writing room and sit there until I wrote something – anything.

I spent most of the resting day with K.
I’ve kept up my end on letters and think maybe I need to add a few more penpals as some I’ve had have stopped writing back. Those of you still getting letters do not fall into this category. I would limit myself to about 11 people to write back and forth with and right now there are three. To apply e-mail me or leave a comment and I can get back to you with my address.

There is utter silliness on the television and movies made by people who get their ideas from five year old children without any imagination which is infinitely worse than an adult script writer and director without any imagination.

September 5, 2011

215643 –

by jhon baker

Trying my hardest today to not bellow and shout, scream at everyone who breathes in my presence. The fault is entirely mine, or at least it is the fault of an unknown source fucking up my tolerance level for people, things, coffee and apt consideration.

Last night – or rather this morning between six and nine thirty I slept. The first real sleep in days not driven by highly charged emotional states and nightmares. and at the moment my wrist is bleeding.

I didn’t harm myself if that is the conclusion the reader has leapt to.

a stab into the wrist from a light construction project in the destruction phase. Well, it is meant to be a light construction/room rehab project but the further I am getting into it the more I am realizing that it is going to need and today I am not up to the task of contemplating how best to accomplish the goal.

what I need is a four in the afternoon nap, some heavy sedation and a beer or bottle of Yukon Jack.

my problems are petty and the coffee is warm.

I can’t write a poem in this mood, flashing downward in a silent movie circa 1928 train wreck and bugs bunny taunting the shotgun in manic high.

squirrels wear a fur coat made of raccoon hide.

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