Endless Realms Of Things


 

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting on the bed in my father’s house,
lonely and dissatisfied
with circumstance, the
reach of mind’s eye and heart, the last drop
of cognac liquid sleep at last

I don’t find the hero
nor am I blind to absolute zero
as my part
in the endless streams of consciousness
I breathe and drink: history,

Still to be made, and changed
the same
as fresh sheets, or a life
of anonymity to myself;
where once more I am the beginning

Again, turning from the fool’s wisdom,
false gold:
shaped by plutonium odes
and new clay,
to endless wealth within the realms of things

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from Measuring Gravity By Grace only 10.99 print, or 6.99 ebook – never know what you’ll find in my books..buy one, you’ll love it

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https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/2015/04/26/the-myth-of-liberation/

The Necessity Of Despair


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See you, now sitting there prepared
to be tranquilized by the trivial, while
your mind prowls for a suddenness of destiny
and enlightenment, expecting comfort
against the darkest deeds and accompanying satisfaction

Look, look at how I have triumphed, when
secretly you slay the dragons, conquer
unknown territories
slaughter so many innocents there is no innocence left
from the lessons you so freely teach yourself

Out there are the reasons for moving
beyond the despair of wisdom, the chimpanzee
imitators settling
for bananas and the straw bed of history, where
you are no longer dead and possibility exists again

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from Of Flesh Sculptures And Abandoned Love only 12.03 print, or 8.99 ebooknever know what you’ll find in my books..buy one, you’ll love it

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https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/2015/04/26/the-myth-of-liberation/

The Myth Of Liberation


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You became the man
you always wanted to marry
I could not long for you
as the woman you tried to bury
Now there are no choices
open anywhere,
in mangers or in stables

So you join the women’s club
with their venom to feel as one; among
the defeminized angels of love,
abandoning even the sacred heart
you mean to carry in the dark:
perhaps forever, Joan of Arc,
that would not still the many voices

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from Silence Louder Than A Train  only 10.99 print, or 7.99 ebook – never know what you’ll find in my books..buy one, you’ll love it

Dark Earth only 12.16, or 8.99 ebookgreat reviews!

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Get Married


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You go into the city from your provincial fleapit, expecting
friends and meditation.
A friend, who happens to be female, at this or any other time
does and does not object to kisses.

But she has been attacked in one day by a 12 yr old pervert, a
moaning female dwarf named Myra; and a cretinous slob who works
the city’s transit system in search of virginal passengers.

You come back from the maze, your friend is Circe – any other
pal lies and delays.
The countryside is a cesspool the city abrogates, bullies
into the idyllic.

A lover has turned sour, regimenting housework; and under
all their insect gaze, you are just as small.

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from The Transits Of Revelation – this book is solely prose poems

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The Word Is Not The Thing


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The pain doesn’t need to remain,
as permanent guest;
the relationship
coming from the past:
the ghostly searchlight up full.

Is this why I make endless
phone calls,
the animals closing in; and music
seeping from underneath the numbered doors:
of rooms on fire all around me?

excerpt from The Lost Neighborhood

©Dean J. Baker

Buy a book!

Silence Louder Than A Train  only 10.99 print, or 7.99 ebook

The Lost Neighborhood only 7.99 print, or 4.99 ebook

Dark Earth only 12.16, or 8.99 ebook – great reviews!

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