Infatuation


 

English: Sanzen-Baker oak, Beechenhurst, Fores...

 

 

 

You have failed to explain
the poem as
bloody entertainment

It would be the final
exercise
of our enduring dialectic

For those bent on terror,
or compromise:
both items are equally desired

© Dean J. Baker

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DarkEarthOf Flesh

 

 

 

Manna


Manna is described as being comparable to Hoar...

Manna is described as being comparable to Hoarfrost in size. Hoarfrost on grass lawn.

The tense stretch of sand before him like a complaint.

He held it in his hand as though it were a warm sea-bird pulsing through his palm against the night. How else could this go with him, who was punished by grace.
Everyone an example, and every object a threat often worthy of investigation.

Appendages of skin dark animals together. Terror, the swollen languor throbbing.
Who inhabited the soft hills, moon-full as experience?

He half spoke. Spine crushed.
Anyone the monstrous. Mouth, blood – inseparable.

Waves of grain beneath old feet; or the toothless hole of the universe, upon a flesh canvas.

Master strokes dream of vast empty spaces.

The ordinary.

©Dean J. Baker

- excerpt from Measures of The Illicit, Soliloquies

“the flesh of the gods,” and the Moses‘ description of manna, “The Bread of the Lord.”

http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

DarkEarth

Imprimatur


dean-j-baker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you would write poetry, willing to become
that reprobate of all those you now know
a beggar who lives thousands of lives, more
free than the rich bereft of true thought, anything
to avoid coming face to face with themselves,
you alone must misplace your set of reality

Like keys left for laundry in a pocket of those jeans
it seems you always wear, and take up
the standard, be the flag bearer coming awake
into another world entirely, remain alien
and estranged, yet belonging to that circle of
acquaintances and friend who require no

Introduction nor bond fides from some fool
narrowing in an uncontainable force, no
you will be able to say I know you truthfully
and none of those who do not belong shall
request please your identification, aware
your answer will be perhaps an amused stance

Or angry retort to mediocrity that says I
don’t need any identification, I know who I am
to those who would make a virtue from
their jealousy and wilful ignorance, unwilling to
study and imitate to find the vein which opens
skyward where all rivers flow into that ocean

 

©Dean J. Baker

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Promises


 

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You know that what’s
most often true
goes unrecorded like the tune
to this song

the melody the stars make,
as they wheel
above the living and the dead:
the answer you give
in your pulse and footstep

Besides, the fact
that a small perfect bruise
on your apple
is what I am to you, this

Is of no consequence

©Dean J. Baker

- excerpt from The Lost Neighborhood

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DarkEarth

Of Insomniacs And Amnesia



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I could not sleep
until I learned to stay
awake:
the words of your betrayal
speak loud and clear, in
every action that you take
As though you keep
behind those swept green eyes
each secret of defeat

As if carrying on,
when the days are dark
could be all;
but I must travel far,
to gain back
the self I lost in torment
Loving you, forever as I do,
amid such careless lives:
tossed upon the world, against that splash of blue

-excerpt from Silence Louder Than A Train*

©Dean J. Baker

My latest book, Dark Earth, is available here –>http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Earth-Dean-J-Baker/dp/150052591X

Review quotes: “Dean is a true comic poet as well, full of those sly interventions and evasions, slights of self, incriminations and elisions.. He’s the kind of poet that gets under your skin and stays there like a song in some dark noir alley that sings to you of love and death suckled on good old home grown truth.”

©Dean J. Baker

*Silence Louder Than A Train review quotes: “If all the reader is looking for in a poetry anthology are the poetic ramblings of someone trying to impress with their command of language or a gently rolling stream of consciousness then this probably isn’t it; but for poignant and thought provoking insight and new ideas, one would be hard pressed to do better than Dean J. Baker’s ‘Silence Louder Than A Train… Highly recommended.”

The books _——–>http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

Of Flesh Sculptures And Abandoned Love


DarkEarth

Not that you’d notice but I’ve just about put the finishing touches to my new book of poetry and prose poems, with the above title.

Some might say, Well, what the fuck, huh?

Baker’s Bad Boys, with a review saying, “Fantastic read. I don’t want to say more to avoid giving anything away. Get it, you wont regret it.”

Silence Louder Than A Train, with several excellent reviews.” If all the reader is looking for in a poetry anthology are the poetic ramblings of someone trying to impress with their command of language or a gently rolling stream of consciousness then this probably isn’t it; but for poignant and thought provoking insight and new ideas, one would be hard pressed to do better than Dean J. Baker’s ‘Silence Louder Than A Train… Highly recommended.”

Dean Baker’s book The Mythologies of Love is savagely introspective yet as with his previous collection of poetry, Silence Louder than a Train, refrains from the tedium of the confessional. The reader is left with an insight into what makes this poet ‘tick’ and a hint, through fine subliminal triggers as to his world view. These things are all there yet one must not forget that the collection pays heed to the book title throughout – in short it does what it says on the tin (a hackneyed phrase I know). Also, this author’s mastery in posing challenging questions by default is a rare skill. A superb set of poems I would recommend to any potential reader of modern poetry seeking out the works of a poet, who has no fear; who never pulls a punch or flinches from one circumstance has thrown his way. He simply commits the event to words. Those in or out of ‘love’ will find much to identify with here.

 

The Lost Neighborhood, with a couple of reviews, one saying how great the work is, and “Required reading for anyone wanting to learn about wit, wordplay, and good, gritty writing in general. Dean Baker knows how to turn a phrase upside down and kick it full strength out the door. Five stars, and here’s to many more…”

Dark Earth, with a tremendous review linking the book to the great poets, and satirists. “
Dean is a true comic poet as well, full of those sly interventions and evasions, slights of self, incriminations and elisions.. He’s the kind of poet that gets under your skin and stays there like a song in some dark noir alley that sings to you of love and death suckled on good old home grown truth.”

All published this year, 2014. (ok, now you can say, well fuck me gently, 6 new books in a year?!!#)
Of course not all were by any means completely written this year. They occurred over decades.

Excepting only a few poems, Of Flesh Sculptures And Abandoned Love has been written completely in the past 7 ½ months. Might have had it ready sooner, but for every 5 poems that I write on average, sometimes maybe out of 10 poems, I pick one for publication. So I had to slog through an entire bunch I had written, others I was writing, and still have not thoroughly winnowed through more than a half a dozen notebooks.

I write all the poems, and songs, with pen and paper, first.

And I’m still looking to see if I can get a group together so my songs, plus new ones written recently, and the many more to come, can get a hearing. You ever see a sign in your neighborhood (i.e. online) inviting you to come see Dean J. Baker And The Tourettes©.. that’ll be me.

Plus of course there are some other books to come… of course.

As for the other books I’ve done – there are great unsolicited reviews that would’ve had me rushing out to buy if I hadn’t written the books. They inform and encapsulate to a degree the books’ perspectives.. and I’d want to be one of the first to read such books with such amazingly intense reviews linking the books through older and contemporary literature as what has not been seen before.

I don’t know about you. You’re jealous, or you’ve eaten so many prescription pills your mind isn’t working right… who knows. Family trauma. Romance trauma. Gender issues.. like you can’t be sure Grandma really is a grandma since those whiskers started…. I don’t know.

But anything even close is spoken of with thought, sensitivity, and insight in a manner you have not seen before, and is done so openly, bringing new perspectives and eliciting relevant insights so close to the bone you’ll believe they’re your insights.

But I guess from sales, you’re not really interested in insight, the distillation of perspectives so fresh they make you think they’re yours since like all great work they tell you what you already knew but could not for some reason get to.
Imagine that – and not having to spend money at the psychiatrist, download a few thousand stuffy pages of formal psychology, watch the entirety of The Three Stooges, and then grab the heavy literature from the library… when you can get it all in only a few pages of these books I’ve published, and feel refreshed and more alive, not mournful and depressed, or vindictive and postal. Hmmm.. I better read my books. I want to feel ahead of the game, too.

Well, shit – entertained, informed, the best literature not stuffing your head with thoughts of vengeance upon writers, and feeling one up on everyone who’s abandoned the art of poetry. Who can afford not to buy my books, then?

You don’t want to feel so foolish as to be the one who is asked, “did you read Dean J. Baker’s Silence Louder Than A Train, or Dark Earth, etc”… and you have to make up some phony excuse, and hang your head and say, “No, I’m a schmoe who waited for the Great Advertisers to tell me what I want to read. I hate discovering new and classic writers and poets. The excitement is too much for me. I’m going back in the corner now.. but buy me his books!

Don’t be that person. Be the one everybody looks up to. Someone who can read poetry, stay relevant and renewed, and point to the poet as someone whose works you need to know. If only to find that which every few decades is true, new, and the litmus test for other works.

Yeh, that’s the ticket.

So what’re you waiting for? Grab your credit card, and start ordering. Don’t be a gomer. Hell, grab someone else’s credit card and order them all. When the cops catch you, you can say, “I did it for Literature!” and you know you’ll not only be released but become a symbol of the sacrifice creativity requires.

These poems and prose poems are the only art that belongs to each individual who reads them, and to everyone else just as freely who owns and enjoys the books.
..and to everyone else just as freely, where you can discover a fresh sense of belonging that depends on your true individuality, and a distinction you make and receive in return by reading.
Not to mention you’ll be contributing to culture and raising the level of what can be expected in poetry, and the arts, by buying the books.

This is where the revolution starts, in case you didn’t know.

©Dean J. Baker

p.s.  you bastards clicking ‘Like’.. buy a book!

The books _——–>http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

Abandoned To The Beyond


Creation of Adam Sistine Chapel

God’s a failure in your heaven, which
is never more than lacking imagination;
the catalogue of everything material you
can accumulate anyhow: this museum
of treasures lost and found where pleasure
builds its palaces in the unending orgasmic
seizure no architect could contrive
anything but observe without achievement

The trappings of paradise embalmed, our
conceptuality enshrined by sterile mind; only now
colors blanch into false intimacy, emotions
tantamount to a sacrificial shout of joy foretold
through the silence nothing delivers or retrieves,
yet limits to a reach which is not foregone, these
attempts to hold by means of psalms:
what may be met when it is not abandoned to the beyond
©Dean J. Baker

new books – buy a book!   http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00IC6PGQM