Empty house
filling it up with notes,
beats,
and outspoken poems.
– Written by my Nephew, Christian Allen Baker, poeticized by yours truly.
July 4, 2011
Happy 4th!
(if only I’d gone to school to learn to blow shit up, I could have done this for a living)
For my overseas readers – read the title line as – Happy Monday!
(this will have to do as finding an image for happy Monday that wasn’t cheeky or didn’t involve breasts and kittens was too much work.)
What I think is that we celebrate on the incorrect day. Unless what we are actually celebrating is the declaration of war or the intent to be independent and taxed by our own people.
To celebrate our actual independence it ought to be moved not to the sixth of July (which was the original celebratory day but the fourth sounded better (citation needed)) but to September 3rd in recognition of that fateful day in 1783 where we actually gained independance and collectively said “what now?” – to be answered by “I don’t know, we’re fucking broke – someone call China or start taxing the peeps, or both.” (citation needed).
But, I write this in America where we love our violence and wars, bloodshed is best remembered with a lot of explosions and many many missing fingers.
So, today I am playing the hell out of my ukulele and spending much time on the about to be painted deck.
here is another image which I found but couldn’t fit in anywhere else.
(this is the kind of stuff that eliminates fingers from children and stupid men.)
premature ejaculation
firecrackers, bottle rockets and gunfire.
July 3rd premature ejaculation punctuating
already poor sleeping summer night.
roman candles blue center light sizzling
like so many horribly dangerous sparklers
blinding and burning.
mortars shake the house and
dozens of fingers and hands sacrificed
at the alter of popular patriotism.
– Hoc Scripsi
A few links which contain the ability to have new poetry not only by myself but by others as well.
Pre-order – PigeonBike (beyond the broken bridge) here – DO IT NOW!!!
and free to read on the internet and/or print copies to keep and give away! If you give some away get photos and send them to me and I will get the to the proper place where each image will be celebrated.
Get one or all eight issues here – also, DO IT NOW!
I appear in volumes 1, 3 and 4 – however, a lot of my good friends and some excellent poets appear across all volumes so I suggest you read them all.
June 15, 2011
four fingers
sleep sleep – where are you now? on Benedryl max strength, ultram, cymbalta and norco – I should have passed out mid OJ guzzle – maybe to add whiskey.
I love for southern France,
with my wife,
beautiful and windy
like chicago,
but more beautiful,
like my wife.
– this at one thirty-six am, drunk off medications, OJ but no whiskey. – I’ll take four fingers of your finest, please.
June 14, 2011
Focus on the writing
Things are starting to get easier – I think. I may have a cold or allergies – probably allergies but the sandbox is finished and beautiful. I have to recharge the air filters on my motorcycle and truck and finish the application for disability and SSI – these are both things I’ve been putting off but can no longer.
7.62x54R
the madman levels his rifle
in calm calculus
bright cloudless day
78 degrees F (23 c).
7.62x54R forced from the barrel
spinning in terminal glory.
the poet stands, taciturn,
in the street with notebook
pencil to paper
calm calculus
accepting and falls to
his knees. Last poem penned
in darkest red.
78 degrees F (23 c)
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 