The Herald

Oh, Canaduh

Nothing more than abstract ornament,
explanations and discussions
keeping us to ourselves; we were
too petty for anything else. God
and Spirit, man and God again: no
insight into the common denominators.

Stupidity categorized the crews
taking over. In Canada, one was
reduced to waiting; at best,
you sent yourself notes (not poems)
hoping they would stay closed, or
fall open revealing all upon arrival.

You are lost either way. Death
enters your life: a troubadour
strolling through the provincial town.
Each gesture of government singing
the unwanted guest to bed, who is
finishing the last bite of food.

One brought no plans for conversation,
issuing invitations in the dark
he slips from his clothes. The livery
stark amusement, leaving only the arc
of a streetlamp which constellates:
the hard vistas of distant expectation.

©Dean J. Baker

  • first published in Jewish Dialog
  • I wrote this and sent the first…

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Hail, Hail, The Queen Of Poetry

in our Empire burlesque










Where you celebrate the magnificence of poetry, meaning
the false Queen’s lyrics relating a Red Rooster
to having been fucked silly, I witness a corporate
Frankenstein perverting Prometheus to ignoranuses
forgetful of Howling Wolf, and Muddy Waters,
crazed with conceit and giggly with a resentful pride
reflecting stolen glory. No Empress of Ice Cream, no
Sylvia calling out ‘Ich, Ich, Ich,’ not even Eliot bowing
to Ezra Pound for the beneficent editing job;
the smudged face nursling plopped in a wilderness
of greed and the uninformed commercial sheep, willfully
suicidal with their studied yet hollow necessity
eliciting a moronic need to be approved by goons

Those who don’t know science, but relate to stories,
ghosts of truth relegated to empty rooms; unoccupied
by anything except the fantasies of the doomed,
abandoned by what they have left for the destroyers
as if those would come from anywhere else
except leaders who, once little Hitlers, now cry their tales
ticking time off, while fools smile and others
unfamiliar with either history or truth prepare another lie,
told so often it has become one more version
of a new and hollow, fund filled glorious truth:
served up as entertainment for idle minds abused,
driven to flail about by those who won’t accept the inaudible

©Dean J. Baker

  • click on the photo to get a book

“Having read Dark Earth DarkEarth by Dean J Baker my first reaction is WOW. This was written for me. His poetry speaks to me deep down in my soul. The style of writing then the naming of the poems is so on target. A must read for poetry lovers AND all who just love to read.”

Dark Earth is a thought provoking collection of poems..”

Rabelais and Hieronymus Bosch look out of dark chinks in these poems…”

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