Posts tagged ‘short poem’

April 12, 2014

beautiful day

by jhon baker

TO NOBODY:

Sitting on the back porch for the second time this year and today the weather isn’t necessitating my normal hoodie. Coffee, cigarettes and my wife in and out cooking dinner while the boy practices his instruments. I didn’t ride today and should have but was too shaken by my car deciding to accelerate by itself and smashing into another vehicle. No injuries, no damage – just an unsafe car which has found its way, by tow truck, back to the dealer where they will find nothing wrong. My electrical lemon. It is time to rid myself of this car and go with something used with a bed or nothing at all and rely on my cycle to get me around.

I need a cathartic experience

something beyond the rapture

of the faithful.

Time passes without thought and I am still here – now sitting in the dark and typing by touch alone. At least there are my glasses and the wildlife which makes noise out of range of sight to let me know I am not alone.

The asshole neighbor yells at the feral cats like they can understand his anger at having cats as wild animals in addition to the plethora of other wildlife in the area. We need to protect our garbage cans from all sorts of creatures – possibly including the asshole neighbor.

Past my sons bedtime and it is my turn to read to him, cuddle close and enjoy it while he is still just young enough to want it. nearly too old for the closeness of his parents. This depresses me immensely as I think it does his mother. And there will be no more.

“five dogs went into the wildreness

only three came back

two died of guinea worm

and one died of you

Jack Kerouac”  – Hunter Thompson

We want our children to be sensitive to poetry but not become poets. My son is a musician and I’m not sure if that’s better. But his talent surpasses mine and anyone I know – I light another cigarette – so he can teach, perform, become famous or whatever he wants – he can be the most musically talented garbage man –

garbage men are the real poets anyway.

and my fucking car won’t work.

– Me

 

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March 31, 2014

first little flying bug of the season

by jhon baker

it’s dead now.

I took it’s life

as it was crawling across my computer screen.

 

as if my life were so important.

 

I can be such an asshole.

February 2, 2014

February the second

by jhon baker

I am captivated by my own world and have nothing to really say about it. There are so many typos in the sentence that this one is replacing that I’m not bothering with the original. My coffee needs a filler and I am waiting for my turn to practice my instrument. My son first practices his as his future involves these things and only my past does. I have written a single poem this year and last year by this time I was up to around 28 or so.

I am staring at this black piece of paper

with four poems waiting to be written;

drinking coffee but

wonting for something else entirely.

my ears are dirty with grime

and later I’ll shower.

right now I am not adjacent to godliness

but God doesn’t drink coffee

or smoke endless cigarettes turning on the next line.

– Hoc Scripsi

I am waiting for something to say that I haven’t already said better for fear of repeating myself but maybe that it all I need to do – repeat myself better or worse and watch trains rumble by while I drink fresher coffee served by baristas that long to do something different – even if it as meaningless as what they perceive they do now. It’s palpable. the wont.

I am trying to quit but running out now to smoke another instead of type type type bang bang bang on the MacBook with the loose key. It is nearing time for a new or newer laptop and I cannot decide if laptop or tablet or nothing at all and force myself to travel down to my office where the desktop is and write there – adjacent to the IBM Selectric III and Buddha.

 

December 31, 2013

New Years Eve

by jhon baker

I do not make resolutions specifically for this date – I make them when I need to have made them. I made my last new years resolution many years ago stating that I would never again make another new years resolution and so far I haven’t. In the past several months I’ve made a few decisions that I am carrying through with into the new year but this is not the same thing. I’ve taken up playing the trumpet and am sticking with it with lessons and everything and I’ve quit smoking to be a better trumpet player (more lung capacity; better breath).

I like to beat dead horses.

There are many things I don’t need – a specified day to start something new is one of those things I don’t need.

But onto another subject.

I haven’t written in months and last night wrote a few lines of poetry – for my wife, always for my wife…

 

I love you

and that may be all

shared coffee over old television shows

and newer series watched in minute marathons

 

It needs more and I will write more for it but for now it is there waiting and I take the medications carefully every night and every morning. I build catapults with my son and watch him build with Legos.

and I sing the song of my people.

September 9, 2013

we are the lucky ones

by jhon baker

– in part for Richard Dawkins

 

I don’t enjoy needed tears of rejuvenation

or the venerability of emotional transendance

 

the heart pumps

from ventricle to ventricle

through fifty miles of capillaries

blood that offers life

and one day must stop cold

 

and we are the lucky ones

so said

for we are here when so many

never were

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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