Details |
Keith Baker Poem
There's epinephrin and love rushing through your blood
Never been kissed, never been kissed
Now you never thought it would be like this
Never been kissed, never been kissed
Now that we know each other a little better
This sky can't get high enough for us together
I'm exactly what you needed a breath of fresh air
And who knew for you it would ever happen like this
Never been kissed, never been kissed
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
So let me tell you somethin',
Let me let you know how I feel.
You can learn more from a plant
than a god who isn't real.
If you gotta burn somethin'
then go and burn a church.
'Cause if you burn a book
then it's murder in the first.
Who are you to say that a thought must die?
Who are you to say how I educate my mind?
Just like in your holy writ,
Metaphorically blind,
Go destroy someone else
who's unsaved and you're fine.
You can preach out of your mouth,
But then you act from your behind.
You are all compared to sheep,
and you don't even seem to mind.
Careful what you wish for,
because you never can tell.
You know that there's a heaven,
but really hope that there's a hell.
Hope that there's a place where the suffering is real.
Well let me ask you something.
Let me know how you feel.
If you all are right,
who do you want to be there?
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
No one knows what
The dust that floats in the daylight is
Small specks of dirt I'm told
Or bits of flowers, or skin, or mold.
I, of differing opinion, am
Concerned myself with its essence
The dust that floats in the daylight
Are naught but lit old souls
A special pair of eyes and
The dust that floats in the daylight
Can see against the shine
Memories, pain, laughter and wine.
Hitherto unknown
True tales dance and silent din
The dust that floats in the daylight
Is the great work of our kind.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
Where were you when we began, this silly magic ride
I fell in love and fell out slowly, I think I ought of died.
I saw the end in close up fashion, it came on like the night.
I never saw an Indian that passed on peace or pipe.
Roll down your window Johnny, smell the sea salt air.
In the back, sit down, or we'll never make it there.
I smiled a smile once that truly changed the world
I remember it as if it was yesterday a collection of colored shells.
Oh, Oh, sing a song with lamplight, sing unto the stone
No one knows if you've gone the last stretch, that is unless you've told.
No one will ever know though, nor will they ever see.
What the miniaturette means to us, what it means to me.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
There was a sweet lass from Sassafras
Who each morn rode a large burrow to class
But once after school
Near killed a fellow pupil
Who remarked on the size of her ass!
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
"Poppycock and hooey indeed,"
Said the man of the new machine ran by steam
"It shall never catch on,
Even after I'm gone."
Sobering words by the first train casualty.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
*comparing my teeth grinding with childhood memories that invoke its description and seek to explain it to some one who doesn't do it*
Dinner table chair
Across a bare vinyl floor
Muggy summer air
Lazy children.
Static on the TV screen
All of us, caffeine stares
Not yet thirteen
The house smells weird.
*to be finished
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
There once was a man from Olde Dublin
Whose wife said all that he did was a sin
So he said, "Just as well,
If I'm already going to hell."
And later that night did her in.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
While plugging away at my own mental capacity
I write what I think with what I think is stunning veracity
But sometimes my peers surprise with insistent tenacity
And the gall and the chutzpah and the sheer audacity
To make outrageous claims that lack any academy.
I, being I, of course just can't let this tragedy
Lie, for if I, were to ignore it in apathy
And laughably, affably smile and accept with alacrity
Then my bones might just crumble as I sunk down in agony.
So in a ferocious but in my own way quite happily
And maybe, I must admit, with a bit too much pageantry
I tactfully attack this pompous calamity
This shanty, infancy of correct use of faculty
Without the piteous sanctity one treats those with a mental malady
Because this isn't an appeal to a friend but rationality.
And the casualty isn't you or me but our commonality
As a species, are we, who seeks universality
That won't happen when banality not fact is common mentality.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Keith Baker Poem
Carefully plotted geometry,
builds beautifully plotted cemet'ries.
Polished tops of mahogany.
Carefully stitched embroidery.
Painful lives we lead,
no one will ever truly know,
when you're underneath the ground,
shoulders turn even more cold.
The grass will be green someday,
the headstones all forgotten.
As little children play,
over those who've rotten.
And so time goes on,
Loved ones lost and gone.
Where once sad tears created ponds,
have now become another's lawn.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
|