Banditry


 

 

 

 

 

 

I offer you my hand: you swing
the axe faster than the eye can see

I tell you my love: you wish
me well with these labors in hell

I proffer gifts wise men do not bring:
you refuse permission of such bribes

I kneel down beside you: without enmity,
or attack, you pat me on the back

I accede to your lack of humanity:
you feel my politics are not Third World

I wonder where you find yourself: we
sing and stare, the bare moon our ornament

I know you are there as well: hiding
behind the True, the Good, the Beautiful

©Dean Baker

from The Mythologies Of Love, 81 pages, $7.99, ebook $3.99 – https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HOR2G8A

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I Used To Loiter Endlessly


 

 

 

 

 

 

I haven’t felt good forever
I’m not going to tell you about it
outside the realms of poetry
and the women
plus the rhythms of music, there
isn’t actually anyone who cares
to hear the sad dystopian tale
of an artistic loneliness since you
decided we share the same problem
but separately

not all of this could be known
not all of this could be known together
not any of this would be shown
by the solitary sharing
the fact that somewhere along
the way
a passenger fell off the train
beside the river I have not visited since
when I used to loiter endlessly
on the lookout for the arrival of beauty

© Dean Baker

-excerpt from In Riparian Fields, 109 pages, $9.99, ebook $5.99->In Riparian Fields Ebook –

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Circle Of Destiny



I thought I would escape death,
if I loved you well and long enough.

I would answer to his pride; conceal myself,
within the monuments of fleshy deceit.

I saw our kitten curl into question
marks that defined my helplessness.

How could you love me when I betrayed
by my selfishness your plan for immortality?

I had always tried to be good, being afraid:
You said I only wished to avoid living.

I knew I had failed to provide illusion.
I stepped outside the circle of applause,
I joined the cowards in the audience.

They were transformed into painted, wooden faces.
I wouldn’t mind much consenting to die.

I refuse the list of trivialities; the stakes
always high for those who would philosophize.

I will not accept slavery as my model
for spiritual and material transcendence.

Religion is anathema to God made manifest.

Now that we have fouled the bed of marriage, let’s not
pamper our vulnerabilities with relationships.

Blood Upon The Moon


 

 

 

 

 

1

As if money wasn’t every measure,
for what cannot be missed
in the absences of real treasure

No more garden nor oasis,
no safe heart, or places traded
for what is lost within the traces

That do not feel like grace, the swift
awareness beyond judges awaiting
verdicts with which they already agree.

2

Poetry is far behind me now:
I have lost the gift of music,
the memory-hidden silences.

That place where once I lived, in
glory, is occupied: by
cruel forces of the invasion.

The armies of the ignorant
twitch, and kneel:
they leave their blood upon the moon.

3

So alright you know more than me,
I concede to your competitive
vanities and the telescope of ambition

Where attitude substitutes for
accomplishment by
the surrogates of the soul and sad deeds

In the committees of abandonment,
authorities I do not sanction
govern what occurs between me and thee.

©Dean Baker

All These Being Hinterlands, 84 pages, $7.99, All These Being Hinterlands ebook $3.99

‘Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.’

Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

Petty Gods Of Apparent Decline, 121 pages, $6.99, ebook $5.99 ,- cheap! on sale

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**Dark Earth – ‘Rabelais and Hieronymus Bosch look out of dark chinks in these poems…’

‘The most unique set of poems I have ever read’

**Silence Louder Than A Train – ‘Highly recommended’ ‘..one would be  hard pressed to do better…’ 

‘…savagely introspective…’

Dean’s books will someday be required reading…’

https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com

Class Rules


 

 

 

 

 

 

Classless, clueless, contentious
yapping
cannot tell the difference

between
the legitimate and the contrived
as if throats gargling

syllables
say one more for me
were smart not mistaking

purposeful consciousness
for awareness; awareness for intelligence,
intelligence for moral ability

mongrel dogs
lapping at the cut throat: ambitious
to finish, not know

©Dean Baker

-excerpt from Celestial Migrations In The Empire, 86 pages, $5.99, ebook $2.99 ,- cheap!

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World Views

#WhiteGuilt: one more distraction from #TheLieFactory. A#politicallycorrect contrivance designed to generate hostility, and impede actual progress by making the manipulated seem authentic.
#Popular not for nothing is the Latin word for popular, ‘vulgate.’#poopularity

Anywhere


 

 

 

 

 

 

You can be murdered anywhere, but
you’ll always die in Congress or in Parliament.

From a lack of care or indifference
to what’s said and done by everyone expecting
salvation be a ladder to Paradise, until
the stairs to another life declining repair
prove they lead nowhere but upside down.

Change will come eventually you think,
forgetting the war ongoing in everything
where slaughter is observed religiously,
statistics carved in counterfeit
register complaint surreptitiously proud.

To serve the perverted ego’s lazy appetite
for the curve of constancy, no matter what
it takes to frame familiar certainty:
mistaken for the truth still boasting loudly
for release from the cage of incessant proof.

In our recalcitrant lives something despairs,
training us for extinction as the prize.

©Dean Baker

‘Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.’

Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

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Conquerors


 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t take up the alarm about the invasion
Anyone with a sniff of wisdom knows it has begun

That it has been in place for the longest time, that’s
Our sense of fairness, the largess of conquerors betrayed

Do not remind those who have families and friends
That anyone of them could be the enemy, dazzled with false

Idols and the indolent charms of the indebted slaves
Do not speak of the Barbarians at the gate, while the cities

Burn and spark and fires break out everywhere without origin
Do not mention history as a lesson, the abandonment of finery

And charm as the initial state of what the future brings
Where the aliens have occupied what greed left behind, deceit

Kept in place and refined so no final attack need take place
Anymore as the music plays, the dancers ticktock and sway to

The rhythm of the gathering wave soon to surrender us, again
We gasp and there is no remembering from that place

©Dean Baker

-excerpt from Silence Louder Than A Train, 103 pages, print $7.99, ebook $4.99

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