Posts tagged ‘mental abberation’

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

May 20, 2012

cordite stains my fingertips

by jhon baker

flashes of brilliance hammer though my head – electric alive


another fantasy slept through, hard on no recollection

the smell of gasoline oil from two stroke motors hard starting

and cordite stains my fingertips


October 7, 2011

I feel a bit of a headache coming on…

by jhon baker

Last night I was awake with the shakes and my skin was crawling off my body revealing a man growing inside.


it’s a beautiful day.

sun light stinging my eyes and I’ve got to repair the umbrella.

October 5, 2011


by jhon baker

I’m an advocate for Lazarus and because of this I have to stop and question the wisdom of Jesus on his actions. At what point did Laz ask to be raised up, like he was. Who would choose this life?


It’s mental health awareness week – you can tell can’t you.


Didn’t Mary ever teach Jesus to ask before just going ahead and fucking with peoples lives or death?


there is a small animal staring at me from about 10 feet away. It looks like a red fox and it is right outside my requirement room near a book shelf that contains our board games. I think it’s fucking with me.


I am aware of mental health. I am also aware of mental unhealth. Mostly I am aware that once I went insane it was blissful (sometimes painful) with periods of awful, glaring stability in-between phases.

that may be an EAP misquote – it’s early and I haven’t been able to sleep but smoke and play some guitar.


K wished me a happy mental awareness week and we both had a good laugh.


September 10, 2011

we are dramatic by design, confused by normalcy – from a conversaton with MC

by jhon baker

What some poem said in 31


I wish it was cancer, simple – to the point and either death or cure would deliver me without question.


I wish I could offer you that radiance, that moment.

what some poem wrote in 31.


the projectionist asleep

aisles full of faces, a thousand faces

and sorrowed malaise

the colors saturated

the film jumpy

like an old film with the tracking off

muffled vocal intonation

and a sharp disjoint from yesterday morning

where I sat with coffee and dunhill internationals

and an aspect of understanding

– Hoc Scripsi

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