Posts tagged ‘spirituality’

November 21, 2013

Jack London on gods

by jhon baker

I haven’t been writing any poetry lately but have continued to read quite a bit – not as much as my wife but enough to satisfy me. Someday soon I’ll get back to writing but for now I thought I would share this quote from “White Fang” – by Jack London

 

“To man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods overthrown and his alters crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild dog that have come in to crouch at man’s feet, this grief has never come. Unlike man, whose gods are of the unseen and the overguessed, vapors and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths of desired goodness and power, intangible outcroppings of self into the realm of spirit…”

 

That was all I really had – nothing much to report and I don’t really get into the repost thing but for your amusement I may repost a few older poems soon – or hell, a few newer ones I’ve not been exactly sure of. We shall see.

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May 13, 2013

what I say is holy

by jhon baker

but it’s no good,

the secret out,

and I am on my knees.

 

what I say is holy,

holier than the tomes of great men

whose bodies are dust;

 

I can no longer blow them for good graces

except by exhale,

 

head buried to the lap

of dead gods turned to ash.

November 11, 2012

From ‘hands on the hips’

by jhon baker

Meditation on the death of a soldier

 

life ended abruptly by the

bullet of another’s weapon

paid for by a master neither

one of you has ever met

weapon that was cleaned

with as much care as yours

and placed firmly in hand by

another country such as yours

and without thought, fired to

bring ends to ideals and have

certain glory from gods or God

fired a bullet that ended it’s

own journey in your body

your body, which lies there

weapon in hand that surely would

have ended the bullets owner

if given the chance

 

this is the death that you have chosen

 

as if picked out from a catalogue

listed under ‘means of dispatch’

and you nation mourns forgetting

your choice

never blaming the decisions

that placed you there

yours and your masters

 

but I am colder and I cheer

not at your death but

at the end you were able to choose

for yourself

I am not so lucky and

I will die unknowing from where

the bullets came

March 11, 2012

a poem

by jhon baker

This is intended to be read aloud – read quietly to your self and you may miss the point.

 

 

I am Lazarus

 

walking from the car

to the doctors office,

I am Lazarus.

sick, shaking, agitated,

waking up everyday,

I am Lazarus.

 

call for me at the window!

I’ll let down my holy beard,

read you a turn, a strophe,

carefully with open eyes.

 

look at my walk!

how I limp, sadly moving,

my feet crash to the ground!

 

Look at my chest, how it breathes

how my heart beats!

look at my eyes, they see,

emote, tell!

 

see you listening,

see you reading, see you

who have not died,

who are not blessed to live long.

 

pain! strife! peace! war!

goddess Aphroditie!

god Ares!

I am Lazarus! I know you!

 

death,

I’m addressing you.

I have died already,

you have already taken my spirit, soul;

I will not fear you any longer.

life,

I have already gone past you,

crossed to the other shore,

I shall not fear you any longer.

 

I am Lazarus!

call for me at my door!
there we’ll meet,

lock gaze and I’ll sing! dance!

Laugh! with butterflies in my beard.

hummingbirds at my ears.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

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