Posts tagged ‘smoking’

December 3, 2014

smoking and drinking coffee

by jhon baker

Smoking and drinking coffee

smoking and drinking coffee

smokinganddrinkingcoffee

punctuated by small naps

accidentally taken on the couch.

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January 2, 2014

January Second

by jhon baker

I miss being a regular smoker but the cost is simply too high – in dollars and lungs.

I didn’t post yesterday – the first first I’ve missed in a few years.

I had nothing to add to last years first – reference that if you like.

In trying to put together a coherent collection of poems for a possible book I’ve found it harder than anticipated.

In polishing the language of a non-native speaker in book form I’ve found that harder than anticipated as well.

I should be busy but I am not.

Playing trumpet takes little time per day but a lot of energy.

Constant and chronic pain takes the most energy.

as does fighting the mental crash I see coming.

The coffee is cooling too quickly and I find myself refilling more often for heat.

I have flowers dying on the kitchen table – in yellow hues turning brown – in whites turning yellow.

 

 

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.

February 25, 2013

poem

by jhon baker

god, or somebody,

bless

him

 

I take the doctors pink and white pills

and the blue/green one

with water before bed and

again when I wake up

everyday

and, supposedly,

they keep me sane and stable.

 

it’s not pleasant to die on the cross

or in back alleys and one way streets.

 

when I’m sick I swallow vitamins

and drink a lot of orange juice.

it helps.

and my hair doesn’t fall out

any faster then the approaching middle age.

I do not have cancer

though I smoke a pack a day.

 

It’s not charming to be awoken after dying

without permissions from the dead.

 

yesterday I spent an

inordinate amount of time in bed

for no reason

and had a lot of dreams,

none of which I remember now.

life, is boring – Henry says

and friends, I believe him

 

 

– Hoc Scripsi

January 1, 2013

another new year – 2013

by jhon baker

life yer life – love yer wife

I wonder if I will ever stop wanting to drink, smoke, take drugs.
I wonder if I will ever want to stop drinking coffee, writing, masturbating, playing with Legos, loving legal voyeurism, among various other bad or dangerous things.
I don’t wonder these things too much because if I allow myself to live in the future I can see that the day will pass when these are not options but memories that I will continue to scribble about.
I look forward to being a dirty old man.
I look backward at being a dirty young man.
Right now is the middle. between two dirty states of being.
my thoughts are often unwilled intrusions, and I don’t act on most of them.
which is good because when I obsess, I obsess with the best of them.

this is nothing new and right now I sit in a coffee shop on my laptop like some asshole with a “for here” mug half filled with black coffee. The music is mostly good and right now plays something I’m not immediately familiar with but it sounds like seventies Cat Stevens as sung by Jack Johnson while drinking. But that ends and plays something else and this I don’t care for.

I wait for the next song and step into the frigid outside to imbibe in a long nurtured vice.

I make no resolutions, live life like yesterday but today and tomorrow.

 

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