Posts tagged ‘pain’

May 8, 2011

by jhon baker

last night intertwined with pain – all night and this morning. I’ve set myself to sedentary after making breakfast for my lovely wife. There aren’t enough pain killers to make it vanish or even forgettable, often I dream of blowing a hole through the center of my thigh to necessitate its removal. I am told this will not end the agony that is my existence.
I try to not complain because after four and a half years – who’s listening?

On other fronts: looking around at sandboxes that sell for unbelievable amounts of money I’ve decided to make one – I’ll save 200 usd on the cheap side and far more on the nicer side. It’ll take an afternoon of playing with my power tools where hopefully I don’t end up with another gash in my hand.

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February 13, 2011

Oh, what a weekend.

by jhon baker

Every muscle making a fist, the half muscles left my leg twitching and contracting, expanding in rapid succession; spasm is what I am talking about but wording my way around.
Listening to Fryderyk Chopin – Nocturnes, Op. 15: No. 3 in G Minor at present.

drinking well made coffee from a comic mug and helping my son write Valentines for his class and a special one for a special girl. He will unfortunately be ill for the party tomorrow. Poor kid.

I am leaving this post unfinished and later am going to take a muscle relaxer while I sit down at my typewriter and write my fellows – return the letters received, work on my newest poetry, and try to start writing a play for Theater Undreground [sic]. I know the play I want to write, I’ve been thinking about it for years, and they’ve asked several times, the least I can do it try.

You’ve seen this one before unless you haven’t – I think it fits in with Jingles newest theme so I will place my name there as well.
Tired and no excuse to be so.

Let the coffee flow, flow, flow and the cigarettes smoke curl in query marks, curl into hearts, curl into clouds of what children lay and witness.

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3 poems fitting harmoniously together
1
third rate diner
writing poems on
paper napkins;
inadvertently blowing my nose into
the most recent.
2
modern medicine
modern medicine is/was always a marvel
no matter the year
until we need for the end
then it’s simply horrible.
3
loving
such good loving
such good nurturing,
such good loving,
such good fucking.
 – Hoc Scripsi
January 30, 2011

bathe every open wound

by jhon baker

five am –

nothing like not being able to sleep due to the feeling of the skin crawling off the muscle and the emptiness invading broken bones.

A cigarette now and then back into bed –

my skin feels oily, my chest is going to explode.

insomnia – the supposed friend of writers everywhere.

try being a cripple with a cripple walk and then try wearing slippers. Mine have the image of Freud but even that bit of funniness doesn’t make them stay on any better when i cripple walk up a single step into the kitchen from the garage where one will fall right after I have outed the lights, followed quickly by the other in a scramble to replace the foot. crawling works better.

there is a child staring at me from the crack I’ve left in the door. It’s not mine.

This is probably disturbing as hell to my wife who is going to read this when she wakes up and realizes that I did not get to sleep at all or at least until six am.

she’s just learned that I’ve been cutting all my meds for weeks now.

this might be disturbing as hell to anyone reading this – or just mildly interesting.
I am not altogether invested in your reaction, although it is nice to read.

I didn’t post yesterday because a friend lost someone and I didn’t have words to comfort them.

I will probably delete this when I come to my senses later on.

until then – here’s a pome…

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bathe every open wound
bathe every open wound
murder me a rose
forgive the violations
adolescent pornographic magazine libido
a dirty young man
who has
old bones
who has
atrophied musculatures
who
doesn’t wear helmets
who
awakes in a plain mood
who
scribbles indecipherably
ill lighted back corner lots
who
limps triumphantly
dances incessantly
who
tears wildly at television commercials
who has
piles of unpublishable odes and laments
who
walks around with guns in pockets
who
gives to the rich
gives to the poor
gives lavishly to self
who
send out letters, mid-twentieth century formatting
who
masturbates feverishly under covers before trying to sleep
who
smokes privately, drinks publicly
who
once, in youth, stole a copy of John Lennon’s “imagine”
who
answers what, who, why and when
with why, what, who and now
who
walks lonely at night for no reason
who
cuts himself to cut out the childhood monster still haunting in dreams
who
quietly ignores the family dynamic of drama
who
sits up hours on end listening to poets in their own voices
who
uncompromisingly refuses to get up until all stiffness is diminished
who
rides motorcycles at 75-80 mph in route to therapy sessions
who has
forgiven people their existence but holds self at higher standard
I’ve given up
offer me that flower/rose from you garden
the one you promised me.
January 11, 2011

only sleep eases pain

by jhon baker

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only sleep eases pain
pain defines.
joy, happiness, collusion
love even distrust,
having dreams, night terrors, delusions.
all are unknown in entirety.
“how perfectly goddamned delightful it is
to be sure.”
every moments considered
length is by pains
varying degree.
 – Hoc Scripsi
October 20, 2010

walking a thin line of relation

by jhon baker

I am waiting
calmly, cautiously

I won’t take my life in 2012
it won’t be taken from me

the GMT constant isn’t

the world will not end then
as it has yet to do

I wish to arise unknowing

ignorant of the stars predilictions

 – Hoc Scripsi

I am posting this today though I think it may be crap. I may delete it or drastically alter it. Right now I am tired from not sleeping well and dealing with the continued pain of walking, lying down, sitting and breathing so my ability to flesh out the thought may be incomplete. I take the meds again and realize that it’s been nearly four years since I’ve known a morning or afternoon or evening without being intimate with bone crushing pain. I need a new drug and I am addicted to not being in pain. Shifts of season and lack of proper sleep aggravate the situation.
The path my life has taken since the accident is one I wonder if given the chance would I relive and make a different decision that day – it was such a perfect day – tragedy gave me a gift and exacted a price. There is nothing that I can change about it so I try not to wonder if I would.

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