Each Happy Being

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Someone broke into my home
last night and took me for granted.
A different kind of robbery, yet
theft nonetheless. You alone now

Would know what is meant, if
not for the happy accident of claiming
possession while being absent,
in the realms of those who love nothing they possess.

(©)Dean Baker

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In Its Beginnings

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Every time I show you who I am,
you set me on fire saying Ash is such
a wonderful camouflage against disguise

For the patient kind not seeking to surprise,
love is the ordinary task
of managing consciousness and fine things

With pliers against skin, that velvet sin
no more, you bring me nothing
in the chemical exchange of mysteries

Undefined in our new century, we
map the boundaries unexplored
and fittingly prepare for the next disappearance

To materialize at our door: soliciting
butterflies who applaud our heart,
minus the clumsy contraption of wings

(©)Dean Baker

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“An inspired set of poems. Dean gets to the essence of a subject.”

© deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

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Unearthly View

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Missing you, I
step off the edge
of routine; constrained, yet

held by boundaries,
the skeleton of this costume,
this envelope of flesh

where I cannot sleep or rest,
almost a dream awake
before the sudden drop

to the flatlands, the crash
soft, epidermal; sloughing off
another season

that may last one more
unmeasured length
against the strength

of daily storms
I contain in unearthly view: amid
too mortal awareness, and remains

©Dean Baker

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Circle Of Destiny

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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.

©Dean Baker

 for Ebook link The Mythologies Of Love   

 The Mythologies Of Love paperback

  • do check Amazon prices as they often have them on sale at excellent discounts –

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latest e-books $5.99, https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBJTJFP Shadow Boxing The Infinite

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Your Beauty

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Your beauty has nothing to do with you.
Just because I admire what’s
Sweet and good, does not mean it is true.

Your truth may be right and straight, but
This belongs to what is old, not new.
Your beauty has nothing to do with you.

Your wonder is all you may own, your
Joy at what inspires and works alone.
Your truth has never been a ghost.

Your beauty and your truth are one at last.
I can see them in the mirror now:
In the reflection, not the shadow that you cast.

©Dean Baker

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  • “Highly recommended…”

    “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 Baker’s ‘Silence Louder Than A Train.’”

    “Poetry and prose poems of a passionate & intense originality which transcends the boundaries of the everyday. Words that speak, sing, and witness to convey us beyond the poems themselves to allow fresh discovery with each reading”

    “… for poignant and thought provoking insight and new ideas, one would be hard pressed to do better than Dean Baker’s ‘Silence Louder Than A Train.”

    latest e-books $5.99, https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBJTJFP Shadow Boxing The Infinite

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    from Petty Gods Of Apparent Decline… Phuque

    PettyGodCovernew1

    Fuck politics, news and our bullshit culture –
    liars, thieves and one-trick ponies,
    people dumb enough to rent space in their heads
    to the corrupt in literature and academia

    Congratulate themselves on disinterest, an
    endless tribute to Helen Keller
    wallowing in the logorrheic effluvia that passes
    for praised independence never experienced

    The whirlwind dust corporate
    sway, plague of lust as such become
    customary hope and prayer:
    flag of the stupid few always for sale where

    Power, greed and contrivance ever rule
    amongst the egotist diviners of nothing new

    ©Dean Baker

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    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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    The P.C. Eats My Brain


    The P.C. eats my brain,
    the corpses in the living-room
    nod awake: another nerve expires.

    I do not complain.
    Such fantasies of doom
    fail to aid the other liars.

    You think you are satisfied
    with what’s electric; your city
    friends, and their mutual hatred.

    This is no more than
    speculation:
    few rise to it, though you try.

    Pull back the covers: even
    your skeleton stays
    cold and still and naked.

    ©Dean Baker

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    deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

    “Dean is a combination of thought and torment that has made him write more than a baker’s dozen of fine poems.. he might produce a collection that could astound us all.” – Irving Layton, (“Canada’s greatest poet”- Leonard Cohen), nominated twice for the Nobel Prize for Literature.