Posts tagged ‘psychosis’

May 9, 2011

I once had a heart

by jhon baker

Love regards people as mystics, casting their powers of future perception against another torrid lovers premonition.
The diseased mind finally discovers the secret of happiness but it is not accepted so it makes those practicing it miserable.
dreamt last night about playing an electric guitar with heavy use of the tremolo bar, making the strings ride against the fret board, I’ve tried this many times and have been unable to produce the sounds the dream tells me I want.
the medication levels the mind while making it harder to express these same thoughts. though the end product may be better, it is harder. Four daily medications make the writing better, the sex better, and anger better.
also, they make the moments of staring into apace more profound in quality, more consistent in quantity.
I can hear song birds congregate next door where we’ve recently placed a bird feeder. It is always easier to give away things that require upkeep then try to have them around your property, like said bird feeder or pets.
the reemergence of insanity lost me most of my friends but those that stayed get to enjoy the cure. Ironically they became my friends before the psychosis went into remission and left when it came out of remission.
I am not lost without them.
I am simply unburdened of them and their troubles.

I’ve decided to end this one by saying, _________________.

January 3, 2011

2010 natural disastars kill 295,000 – no word on whether it was religiously motivated…

by jhon baker

I have plans today and none of them involve a greater study of physics or the dynamics of mother nature to fuck shit up.

1. Write
2. Therapy
3. Write
4. Love my wife
5. Write a letter to my Aunt
6. Play with my boy
7. Eat less than I did yesterday (I was really a glutton yesterday)
8. Write
9. Do a little research into the affects of Caffeine on abnormal psychosis.
10. Practice some piano with the boy
11. Clean the dishes
12. Read Pearl’s new chapbook and more of WCW’s autobiography.
13. make a few phone calls

this is in no particular order, you see. I may write all in one block or two – and I cannot be held to a list I make on blogger until I make the list in my notebook which I will not do as I don’t want to be help accountable to such an arbitrary thing.

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July 29, 2010

Sunflowers

by jhon baker

Van Gogh, 120 years dead by his own quarrel with life lost.
Recently I was at the Chicago Art Institute and stood in front of The Bedroom – breaking tears as he is the only painter that can make me weep with a stroke from his brush. His genius and madness is evident on every square centimeter of canvass.
 I have never seen his final painting, Wheat Field with Crows, and wish to stand long in sight of it, I am convinced that I will understand when it the presence of this masterwork. A good reason to visit Amsterdam.

it’s Thursday

woke up this morning and it was pouring rain, welcoming spring I slept in
late late. I had dreams that although I was married with a boy and my age,
I was naked in High School, but in dream I really didn’t care.

My older brother hit me in the head with a golf club,
while I was six, according to my mother,
broke open my skull,
according to the golf club.

Now I blame him for everything. like the instability.

 – Hoc Scripsi

July 27, 2010

Thankfully, it’s fatal

by jhon baker

I’ve not been present for the past two days.  I would ask, beg, plead for forgiveness but I do not believe anyone has been offended or should be if they were.

 there’s a painting. Acrylic and ink on four canvasses. 54.5″x43″

The inability to have been present was entirely within my scope of control and I simply chose to not be or rather I spun into a depression that I am still in the grips of but am now choosing to at least be productive to see if that lifts me from the mire I find myself in. This isn’t a good time for depression as I typically hate my poetry and prose when I am this down and this depression has chose to not set any new precedents in that vein. Posting may be a doorway out or into an abstract depression which would also be fine.

abstract depression being far more preferable to standard depression
So, here I am in mid post with two photographs that have little to do with anything, but what is this post about anyway? 
I long to write poetry about the beauty of flowers but I either pick them or they wither while the words lie in wait for the impressionistic moment when they will be most needed. So the flower dies and I write vignettes about soup, carpeting and the clean feeling teeth have after eating a fresh apple. 
who wants poetry about flowers? who wants photographs about flowers?
just in case you wanted a photograph of flowers
the sun hides
–    for Jackson

The sun hides
behind clouds &
cold wind
but
   wishes
        to
shine down on
my garden
for the flowers

 – Hoc Scripsi

just in case you wanted a poem about flowers – sort of.