Posts tagged ‘mythology’

June 8, 2013

I suppose

by jhon baker

I suppose that I ought to post something. I don’t have much to say. So, this may well be short or a ramble or a short ramble or something about god.

I am an atheist. I know some of my Christian followers will stop following now and are offended at the very thought. But there it is. I am an atheist and have been most of my life. Do not pray for me – if you are going to waste your time do it on something that will at least make you feel better. So, a few questions answered:

1. If you are an atheist, why do you write about god, Judas and the like?

Well, regardless of the veracity of the belief – it is a powerful subject that evokes powerful imagery in the reader. Also, I write a lot about mythology as popular mythology is a subject that sustains my interest when a lot of other subjects do not. Modern religion is nothing other than modern popular mythology. Lastly, all subjects are fair game for the writer and the writer is not always the narrator of the poem – not even as often as you might think.

2. If you don’t believe in god where do you get your inspiration from?

Everything else. Well, that isn’t accurate – I find inspiration in everything up to and including modern mythology as noted above. Most of my inspiration comes from the observation of life as I see it and experience it.

3. without god as a part of your personal experience isn’t your life and therefore poetry devoid of deep meaning?

I find more meaning and mystery and wonder of life without all the answers – with all the answers everything just stops doesn’t it – or at least this is the way it seems to me. Believing in some god provides the answers for everything and the conversation seems to stop right there, there is no mystery and wonder left for science or poetry.

I’ll take other questions in the comments and probably make another post with those.

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May 13, 2013

what I say is holy

by jhon baker

but it’s no good,

the secret out,

and I am on my knees.

 

what I say is holy,

holier than the tomes of great men

whose bodies are dust;

 

I can no longer blow them for good graces

except by exhale,

 

head buried to the lap

of dead gods turned to ash.

February 8, 2013

untitled dream #3

by jhon baker

untitled dream #3

 

we are west sixty-six revisited

we are bound

bordered between psychiatry and madness

and we celebrate in ceremony

counting one to four,

four to one.

 

in the arena of dreaming

a precipice with feet teetering

don’t look back!

playing Aeolian harp

singing our __________.

 

keep it simple, Orpheo.

don’t look back.

a love lost within scope of wandering

and vanished.

itself playing on bent shaft

itself a white lily

itself a love under guise

itself a nuclear proliferation.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

February 5, 2013

untitled dream #2

by jhon baker

untitled dream #2, 2012

 

I was a wretch!

hit bottom when I refused to write this

no-more sentimental waste

(my brain isn’t big enough for this mythology)

 

 

in dream I live by the ocean

walking steadily on sands, shells

under stars, moon, visible planets

(all performing before my singular audience)

 

 

theme and variation on familiar interlude

treated to kitchen knives chopping boards

pieces abandoned and the night sky a deepest blue

(two typewriters humming and I am distracted)

 

 

struggle on step one, try not to wake

cacophonous malaise, the dream soundtrack

my admissions are deluded, so said

(Beethoven Sonata, NO. 23, underlay screaming)

 

 

I weep when I look upon Guernica

taste blood, harbor resentment at such brutality

turn away to self portraits and the ego

(clever deflection, tears, anger, id)

 

 

weep weep when I look upon sunrise

held in fraternal homosexual admiration

singing! singing, you are my sunshine, my only sunshine

(song of penance)

 

 

– Hoc Scripsi

December 26, 2012

for K.

by jhon baker

I have loved

now I love

 

I shall lie betwixt her breasts

in the mood merriment of playful jazz

lust or longing, a wandering

a melancholy jest.

 

the star of Venus of Heaven

the tragedy of Euridice

we dance the dance of Polyhumnia

and write the words of Callopie.

 

we are like children

under cover of moon’s somber reflections

memories vouchsafed lying

on night’s dewy grasses.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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