Posts tagged ‘short poem’

January 11, 2011

only sleep eases pain

by jhon baker

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only sleep eases pain
pain defines.
joy, happiness, collusion
love even distrust,
having dreams, night terrors, delusions.
all are unknown in entirety.
“how perfectly goddamned delightful it is
to be sure.”
every moments considered
length is by pains
varying degree.
 – Hoc Scripsi
January 1, 2011

the 1st, after bed and now, against my will, awake

by jhon baker

holy shit – it’s Saturday. I truly believed it was Monday and I was prepared to go to the doctors. got my coat, hat and new gloves – poured a to-go cup of joe and hugged my son goodbye – then my wife asked where I was going.
okay, she laughs beautifully, even when it is at my expense. I love her laugh so I can’t be mad, only confused. Also a little peeved as the appointment was the only reason I got out of bed at all.

The great advantage of using cell phones is that I can turn it off when I want to not be bothered. The unfortunate side of that is I forget I shut it off or I just allow it to wane its battery until death and forget all about the fact that I have the bugger. It never occurs to me that no one calls, it never occurs to me that I should call other people.

I’ll never forget the furling flags
above fire escapes
outside the walk-ups
     of downtown Chicago

December 3, 2010

December, snow, ice and the general good time with whiskey

by jhon baker

Apparently the 44″ snow thrower attached to the front of my John Deer is going to come in handy tonight and through the weekend. Also of use will be the seed spreader that pulls behind filled with ice melter.
December already and it’s going to be a white my birthday.

This is for Troy

1. the bending of steel

poetry.
coffee.
a love of hard liquor.
rifles, shotguns, pistols
revolvers.

men were bound by
thinner threads then these.

2. hammering to form

poetry.
coffee.
a love of hard liquor.
rifles, shotguns, pistols
revolvers.

man’s bind was broken by
thinner threads than these.

3. the fine blade

beauty.
art.
love.
the eyes and body move
of a naked dancing muse.

man’s mind was broken by
thinner threads than these

 – Hoc Scripsi

I am looking at the Magpie image and thinking now; I am looking at my own door, painted red with window, and thinking casually.

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately and seeing some quality writing and some not so much. I comment on about 1/3rd of what I am reading as time does not allow for expression and reciprocation on everyone’s thoughts. On need to get back to Rabbit on his poetry as I said I would and am still pounding through the fall of man.
This blog needs more energy – needs more poetry while it is looking like I will finish the year slightly ahead of where I was last year. A good thing but I can see where I didn’t use all of my time wisely.

Almost nap time.

This above poem was written for Troy, because without him it would not have been written. Although it has been turned down by two publishers I believe it to be a solid poem and have high hope for it over the next few months.
Any publisher that reads me and wants it may use it with notification.

ad a good breakfast with a friend this morning with coffee that rivals the best of normal coffee houses – she only need a better coffee maker to bring it to the next level. Good range of topics covered and I left before I may have gotten boring immediately following saying some profound things. To include, on the subject of the impossibility of perfection or an impossible definition of perfection as to human achievement – If I am the sum of my life’s experiences, then I am perfect as I am. Some may say that leaves no room for improvement, but I counter that with I am only talking about now, not what is possible with the possibility of tomorrow.

Putting Sparklehorse’s last album to play I am now going to close my eyes and pull the night mask on. The safety word is “revenge”

 – J.

November 22, 2010

by jhon baker

Rain poured this morning so I stayed in bed until after noon. Sitting now at a local shop (okay, it’s a Starbucks) and it started raining hard again. How did I know this? it was not looking out the window or seeing the bright lightening flashes but the sudden increase in pain in my leg. The chunk of metal astc as some kind fucking antenna for weather changes and sudden ones are the most painful.
Waiting for someone to appear here and in the meantime looking like one of those writers with their MacBook open writing all alone, against the world.

I’ve nothing to write about right now other than right now. There is no-one interesting here and my new friend has yet to show up. It is raining so hard I hope he has a ride but I don’t know as  I can’t really say I know him all that well yet.

had rain outside the local coffee shop

bad art, pale blue walls
children left alone in
the vestibule, waiting
for their mother to bring
the car round

 – Hoc Scripsi