July 12, 2011
by jhon baker
There is no thought predominantly in my concussed brain that merits posting. Sitting within a college building, I feel none of the inspiration of youth, knowledge, beauty, and unbridled idealism that college campuses are attributed.
But there is tinny piano echoing down the hall, there are operatic voices with indefinable words ornamenting the stabbed out notes on the piano and sung by children somewhere between the ages of 7 and 15.
word is correcting my grammar while I type at the speed of sound.
the speed of sound interrupted by corrections as if I were on the salt flats in wet season.
I am wearing no helmet and the parachute is dysfunctional.
wet salt gets into everything like play sand.
chafes.
Tell your friends and lovers
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June 25, 2011
by jhon baker
then promptly took a nap.
last night the sound of glass breaking alerted me into action – pistol in hand I searched the house then the grounds around my home and my mother-in-laws – It was a sound that I’ve been dreading but there was, thankfully nothing or no one about.
After I awoke to every little noise and shadow movement perceived through half closed eyes.
most of the time these sounds and such as faces on the outside of the widow are of my minds making but K had heard it as well. I can only imagine what was going through the neighbors heads at one thirty if they saw me walking around with pistol pointed out – flashlight and laser on. I drew down on a raccoon who appeared scared shitless to have been met with the business end and a laser pointing at its head. The trigger was not pulled – otherwise this would be a story about how I am the killer of raccoons.
and now for something of a tangent
One of my favorite artists is completing yet another painting that I want – this makes more than I can count. I only own one of his but I want more to adorn the walls of my writing room and home. His art challenges me to write and paint and love – check him out here – HERE! – Warning: he doesn’t sell his art which is a serious loss to folks like me.
Tell your friends and lovers
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June 6, 2011
by jhon baker
What day is it? Monday? D-Day? going soon to get my head shrunk though I’ve no illusions of grandeur.
Spent the weekend tied to my laptop and when not, watching “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. Both versions played and there was some poetry written but not much. Today I owe letters to two friends, maybe three.
I am bound to this mind for eternity – as I am tethered to this coffee and cigarette for the next ten minutes.
I’ve no love for the wicked and therefore hold no hatred –
though I’ve a hard on in the wrong week and my mustache needs a trim.
contemplate my dis-ease, contemplate why it couldn’t have been cancer.
I brush my teeth once a day – sometimes twice. I’ve stopped wearing deodorant as it causes me to itch and turn my armpits red, I need a shower and the ghosts in the windows are ever present while the noise screeches loudly like snow on a fifties television set.
I change my underwear and socks daily, but not my slacks – showering about two to three times per week keeps me clean and I have no particular scent that anyone finds offensive.
I wear shoes from the moment I awake to the moment I lay to sleep.
I drink Orange juice, water and coffee. rarely anything else –
I love guns, fine art and poetry. I love my wife and this is my advice for all – love yer wife, love yer life.
Tell your friends and lovers
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May 10, 2011
by jhon baker
I once had a heart
I have a love
power to us whores! our form of proletariat prostitution need no pimp!
Tell your friends and lovers
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the platitudes of willful resemblance 