The Blue Girl


My uncle Walter still cannot believe he’s dead.
In those times he requires companionship, sitting
by the tilted world comprised of a pastiche, of lives.

The prairie near Winnipeg, howling hollows of
Buffalo; open coal pits above which my father abides
among train carriages at the ready: preparing

to watch the small television propped in the sky
canvas, against the backdrop of a playground,
laundry hung like kites across the horizon stop sign.

A little bit of home goes a long way in this hell,
or purgatory you must alter to the habitable says
the beautiful blue girl: her body abandoning
the battleground, the
absent atmosphere for which oxygen is a bribe.

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved

  • from forthcoming Phantoms Of The Northern Forests

my books on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

© deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

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

IF YOU CAN, IT WOULD BE APPRECIATED

  NEW BOOKS COMING SOON

 

SHADOW BOXING THE INFINITE

THE NEW POETRY HOTEL

STEEL BUTTERFLIES

and

PHANTOMS OF THE NORTHERN FORESTS

Age of Extinction

Herded, micromanaged
housing units become small,
cities of the rich
cement playgrounds for crooks
politicians
after all, 10 million
lemmings can’t be wrong, nor
their detractors
this potato famine backwards
this collectivization
the new Gulag of extinction
hive and ant farm

first, they taught us how not
to think, thus not feel
except for the usual directives
we had sinned we aren’t corporate
no propaganda
unless they own it swarming
forward, forward
landscape and sentiment shifts
the cage, boss, the cage
the new Society Humaine
the needle is slim and invisible
does not exist officially

we do have the rage against
the slings and arrows
accepted attitudes of violent sheep
huddled beneath
this manufactured age
gnawing cheese, stealing advantages
not resembling a leash
yes, we are their experiment
soon to be better as usually
gone too soon before being
exchanged
for a tomorrow never to arrive

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved

my books on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

© deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

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

NEW BOOKS COMING SOON

 

SHADOW BOXING THE INFINITE

THE NEW POETRY HOTEL

STEEL BUTTERFLIES

and

PHANTOMS OF THE NORTHERN FORESTS

 

©Dean Baker

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

©All Rights Reserved
deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

Be Yourself

Be yourself they say, and every asshole
celebrates their swiss-cheese personalities
of family dysfunction, bullying
sociopathic disease and invert tendencies.

Those involved in ersatz philosophy
and the imitations of thought jump for joy
but not far enough at the simplicity
granted to save them from further savagery.

Be of good cheer each hopes to hear
while desiring to punch the listening ear,
the open mouth chewing cud noisily,
the lack of manners and sick breeding.

Love me for who I am each proclaims,
I have your back the better to slip
the knife between ribs, with Novocain since
this will hurt me more than you I say gloriously.

The dead in the audience have not heard,
yet applaud entertainment removing
them from the arms of reality
where they cannot breathe and worship murder

oh so religiously.

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

©All Rights Reserved
deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

NEW BOOKS COMING SOON

 

SHADOW BOXING THE INFINITE

THE NEW POETRY HOTEL

STEEL BUTTERFLIES

and

PHANTOMS OF THE NORTHERN FORESTS

 

©Dean Baker

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

©All Rights Reserved
deanbakerpoetryandsongs.comV

Abandonment


The past is longer than the future can be. Winters
are now limited, as are the beautiful mild and temperate
days of May.
My personal calendar has switched from notching months or weeks.
Years now represent decades. All the holidays fade toward permanent vacation.
Nothing of bad measure becomes an unexpected surprise.

Wild women or forward men are no longer even incidents
that did not happen to another. Society itself has become
an idiot child, pablumed and cooing, diaper full.
Money a wish for more than less, waning with it the
benefits of better health and food, less stress, even friends.

You know who’s speaking, should you so choose.
Under that snow, poised for flight; that pile of clothes, the vanished
take refuge in plain sight among the fiercely knowledgeable.

Look closely. They leave nothing whether they remain, or go.

©Dean Baker

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

©All Rights Reserved
deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

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

© deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

*all the books have been re-done – *****posts are meant for inspiration to own***** books: Dean Baker’s books on Amazon

©All Rights Reserved