Posts tagged ‘sleep’

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December 26, 2010

Sunday

by jhon baker

I was hoping to make it to at least three-hundred posts this year – I feel as though that this goal is unattainable at this point without posting around forty posts that would normally have been one.

Just having come in from snow throwing the drive and having my two stage 44″ thrower break it’s second stage, I am fit for a nap. I didn’t wake up all that early today but also didn’t sleep well at all last night. Such as it is and this is normal.

I ran out of cigarettes last night and this was nothing – Kara had some and dutifully went out after we finished the drive to procure some more for me.

My desk is piled with crap that I am not sure what to do with – except for the property tax bills. Those I have to pay. The other bills I wait for them to send about three notices with at least one stamped in red before I can be bothered to write the check. Then I pay using the stub from the first bill they sent. Especially if there is a late fee attached. There is, however, a new computer mouse which isn’t a mouse at all but the Apple track pad. Considering the state of my desk – I think have a mouse that doesn’t need to move around is going to enable my lack of desire for a cleaner and orderly desk.

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eating dinner by
two candle power
light
& glasses of water like

goblets of wine
between us,
we eat slowly,

laugh heartily
and are only drowning

in concern

               under
clean skin, made
beautiful by artificial
means.

 – Hoc Scripsi 
it has been recommended to me that I post a bit about why I sign my poetry with the “Hoc Scripsi” – I think I will do this soon. 
If you have any other posting suggestions I would love to hear them – I may ignore them until I don’t or all together but you never know. 
now to…
drink some OJ right out of the bottle,
step outside to smoke and turn my lungs a shade darker,
lay down in bed and nap badly until I am rustled awake,
dream of once again dancing a jig…
By the way – I never changed any names… 

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March 13, 2010

Keep calm

by jhon baker

 Waking up this morning from barely sleeping, a little here, a little there; the overrated nature of sleep is well known but not well appreciated.
I read in Theater Undergrounds blog (look for link to left) that my pleading to be included on their page of local sensitive artist types has worked so well that I’ve been invited to place some of my words there. Obviously a bit pink in the cheeks and thankful at this I will comply with said request. and gladly.

british war advert advising the best thing to do while the bombs are falling around your head. While this has nothing to do with the above or below I’ve been dying to post it as the advice is sound. No sense in losing your head while others are literally losing theirs all around you.

and so I sit,
in front of you with nothing else

and so I sit.

dawn.
on a bench drawn with broken pen.
tapping with my fingers through
the rain of last night.

October weather warm,
boots sole cleaned from
wet sidewalk walking.

and so I sit,

in front of you
with nothing else.

– I wrote this

hold,

have a weekend. – J.

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February 5, 2010

Words are dry, meaningless

by jhon baker

Insomnia sufferers of the world unite, or at least get together as to not be bored in the wee hours of morning.
I’ve “suffered” from this malady for as long as I can remember, there must have been a time where sleep came easy and I awoke rested and spry, wasn’t there? In addition there are many poems that begin with the words – can’t sleep – or are about not being able to sleep. There are many tricks to falling under the spell of hypnos and with the exception of drinking warm milk, I’ve tried them all and most seem to work for a few days but all eventually stop working. The only cure it seems was to drink copious amounts of Jack or Johnny Walker or SoCo, those who knew me then will advise against this tactic tho especially as I am not even sure that I even slept, there are only periods of time where I remember nothing and awoke in places I didn’t remember being and all that implies.
I’ve also written profuse amounts of poetry and stories when I should have been dreaming, I would say it is a good time to write but there is always a lot of revision to clean up the mess that was the night before so I prefer to write in the day from when I start going on to when I finish while sometimes stopping for lunch or love.

words are dry, meaningless

words are dry,
expression faceless.
the ladybugs came here to die
on my window;
baking in the sun.

a hundred portraits
unhung,
composing city life.

walks along South Michigan
in Chicago;
children think I am homeless
and dirty.

find Buddha in the patrons .
find Buddha in the hall.
find Buddha on the front steps
of MOMA.
je suis beau!
find Buddha in me!

on these steps I ask for a light;
and I am
not thinking that I’m going to write this
a year later, or more, sitting at
my desk. where
ladybugs come to die
on my window.

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