Posts tagged ‘poem’

September 20, 2011

NC

by jhon baker

Holiday Inn

 

lights steady, turned on

at next doors busy restaurant

making midnight an artificial dawn

 

transients sleeping or trying

back turned while

we, looking out hotel window,

eyes wide

in uncomfortable bed

used by thousands.

 

N.C. 4-30-2011

 

–  Hoc Scripsi

September 16, 2011

Written in May last –

by jhon baker

58

 

58°F

too cold to run naked down the street

waving arms and shouting

 

looking now, out the window,

bearded old lover.

glancing past the fallen leaves,

children’s play things

to lovers new, now forgotten

like metamorphosis read in early

collegiate days, studying the

swan and Leda,

before the tempest

searching back over the certain memories

when everyone drowned.

 

or further back to children poetry

in Sunday school where

first crushed on a thirty-year-old

unmarried virgin, venerean fantasies

not understood by the prodigious youth

that still caressed stuffed bears

and elephants with bells in the ear.

 

laying back, falling back

into cushioned chair under

lampshade stained with yellow light,

muted reminder,

long ago

put away like infirm aspirations.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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September 11, 2011

poem – September, eleven in the year of our lord 2001

by jhon baker

depending on who you ask

150,000 – 165,000 deaths on Sept, 11 2001

less than 10,000 by violent hands.

 

a mother watches her child dying

wont of only gardened food or grains stocked and rotting in US silos

A husband watches his wife, unable to cope or help

or feed or clothe

wont of only a medicine produced in mass but patented

a brother holds a brother…

a sister holds a sister…

they group together for warmth or shade from an unforgiving sun

all 150-165,000 of them are sons and daughters

brother and sisters

in time, space

 

50,000 under 5 years never knowing their first love

 

-Hoc Scripsi

 

 

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August 3, 2011

early sunrise

by jhon baker

I prefer an easterly sun before I go to bed.

I prefer a smashed finger before a project is finished.

I prefer coffee hot.

I prefer sex sweaty.

I prefer a major fourth under a sharp sixth.

I prefer to lie on my back in the gutter, looking out to the stars.

Cassiopeia

Ophiuchus

Ursa minor

these are things of dreams and sailor visions

– Hoc scripsi

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