The Stupids


 

 

 

 

 

 

My mind’s a thread unwinding; I
pluck at darkness, which falls.
It won’t let the stupids out; it
suffers them to bray and shout,
these Attic businessmen and women:
busy, they are knitting spirit doilies.

Must I endure like a disease the bad
and bright side of the living’s enemies?
But who am I asking? We are so
few than farther between might be.

You cannot hear me; you are denying everything,
soiled by the crossways unclean:
strapped in a cocoon of the secondary.

©Dean J. Baker

my books on sale: buy one, you’ll like it!

The Lost Canadian, Poems Selected, Vol. 2, https://www.createspace.com/6318391, 110 pages, $12.99

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My  latest booksThe Lost Canadian, Early Selected Poems, Vol. 1 https://www.createspace.com/6252564, 112 pages, $12.99

and The Poetry Hotel https://www.createspace.com/5904118, 102 pages $11.99

Silence Louder Than A Train https://www.createspace.com/4612663, 94 pages, $11.99

The Lost Neighborhood https://www.createspace.com/4618837 78 pages, $9.99

award-winning Dark Earth https://www.createspace.com/4904836, 142 pages, $13.99    https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/review-of-dark-earth-by-dean-j-baker/

https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/awards/all-print-books-links/

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The Decline And Fall Of It All


 

 

 

 

 

Death and those dead, recently or past,
impinge upon my thoughts and feeling sometimes
too much every day and evening; reports of
battle, slaughter and atrocities have nothing
to do with me and thee: the juggernaut of medias
roll on endlessly while we’re absorbed.

Cemetaries always seems a peaceful place, not
stalked by relatives or enemies I may contain.
Vengeful guests do not roam disturbing the cat,
unsleeping the known I must acknowledge,
whether pleasant or intrusive beyond ordinary acceptance.

Ghosts and aliens stand by like familiar scarecrows,
part of the landscape where the invasion took place.

You remember history as though it happened before,
and it does. Differing shapes, apparently discordant stories.

How you think shows, reveals exactly the success
you’d deny by remaining full of important uselessness
while your head sleeps at the wheel it still holds.

Did you truly believe you could pretend forever to be
Rapunzel or the man in the iron mask, no one at home
as everything dear vanishes in the name of liberty,
haunted by doom and the knowledge of our own unwillingness.

©Dean J. Baker

my books on sale: buy one, you’ll like it!

The Lost Canadian, Poems Selected, Vol. 2, https://www.createspace.com/6318391, 110 pages, $12.99

My  latest booksThe Lost Canadian, Early Selected Poems, Vol. 1 https://www.createspace.com/6252564, 112 pages, $12.99

and The Poetry Hotel https://www.createspace.com/5904118, 102 pages $11.99

Silence Louder Than A Train https://www.createspace.com/4612663, 94 pages, $11.99

The Lost Neighborhood https://www.createspace.com/4618837 78 pages, $9.99

award-winning Dark Earth https://www.createspace.com/4904836, 142 pages, $13.99    https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/review-of-dark-earth-by-dean-j-baker/

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Hinterlands


 

 

 

 

 

If I’m alone I know
it must be my moral
leprosy: why otherwise

The old cliché that all
a lover wants is a lover:
mouthing the darkness away.

You would call it neurosis, but
who among the best
of us isn’t sick of something?

There are so few words
I want to use:
for this fearsome beauty of loss

For what is earned, and
what is not:
for all these things I do not choose

©Dean J. Baker

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Kentucky Heat


 

 

 

 

 

 

The cicadas clack the castanets
of outrage, the feathered
timpani
chime in amid the solar
frying pan stretched across
an absent breeze
caught between
leaves in which the coolness
winds down bare limbs, and
feverless accedes the complaint

Against
nothing happening again
between the rain and desert
sands drifting
over eyelids and hard streets
tossed outside
flipped upside down, brought
back
to the place we never left anyway
repeatedly

©Dean J. Baker

greatest reviews! – https://www.createspace.com/4904836  ebook http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Earth-Dean-J-Baker/dp/150052591X

The Poetry Hotel – 102 pages, $10.99

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God’s Daughters


lc2a

 

 

 

 

 

 

One woman is hard-scrabble
bitter, and burnt on beer;
talking about testosterone attacks,
in guys who probably
left what passes for their minds
on stained yellow sheets
But not her, she
was never after childhood a mewling
drooling cribcritter,
spattering verbal diarrhea
across kitchen floors, and nobody
ever cleaned up after her:
until now

And the other woman is lovely, too
Sometimes blonde, and often not
as she demurely proclaims
in poetic twit, her concern
for the world; through endless
emotional promiscuity:
involving the priority of politics,
and everybody’s phone number
Looks like these two aren’t so different –
Both have a lot of love to give
One to herself, the other to almost
everyone else: who
consents to drink from the same cup

The redeeming factor in each is equal
to the intensity
with which they conspire; to surrender
to the death she makes,
out of the unwillingness to admit need
One likes to look down on men; the
other anxiously competes –
in desiring men to look down on her
What’s unforgivable in these two fools,
besides their houseproud humility and fate,
is believing men are creatures:
of which society cannot speak, while women
are God’s darlings who wander solicitously meek

 

©Dean J. Baker

 – excerpt from my latest book – The Lost Canadian, Poems Selected, Vol.2, 110 pages, $8.99

check out The Poetry Hotel, published in May, 102 pages, $7.99

https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/all-print-books-links/

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

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