Poetry and Prose

Sunlit Salutations

Open your eyes as nocturnal notions slowly slip.
Check your phone at your bedside for information blips.
As you mollify the dryness of your sleep-parched lips,
Start counting the moments that make your heartbeat skip.
With sunlit salutations and graces of good mornings, brush away the hue
Of chromatic daybreak and the vignette of post-dreaming blues.
Listen as aviary acoustics accentuate a melodic mood for you,
Lulling a lucid thought to begin the day anew.

-D.A. Baker

 

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Poetry and Prose

Recoil

Cupid traded in his bow for an automatic.
Yea, he’s balling now with his brand new grip,
Straight shocking shooting his strap.
He’s staring down the length of a barrel,
Got you dead to rights, ensuing peril.
He’ll cry, “havoc!” and let the bullets skip,
As one by one those heartbeats skip.
Quick as he can pull the trigger,
Pulsations in veins getting bigger.
When the scope of the situation presents itself free,
Watch him give it a squeeze until the mag is empty.
Then, get ready for the blood, tears, and toil
Because Cupid doesn’t give a shit about recoil.

-D.A. Baker

 

Poetry and Prose

Magical Menagerie

Come one or come all;
Magical Menagerie
Filled with animals.

Come around and see
An assortment of creatures.
Admission is free
For a ticket that features
Wondrous curiosities.

First, we have some newts
That fit inside a locket.
They diffuse disputes
Without leaving your pocket.
Small, but effectively cute.

Perhaps this falcon
Could retain your attention.
He thinks he’s human,
Speaks fluent like a person,
Rages like a grumpy old man.

Here, we have a mink.
Her cries are gratingly shrill,
And she’ll make you think
That you’ve never had your fill
As insecurities shrink.

Next up, the poodles
That muse artistic style,
But are quite brutal
When their designs turn hostile.
Still, they will help you doodle.

This is our turtle
With a solid golden shell.
He helps you hurdle
Over the deepest depths of hell,
Though your blood slightly curdles.

Finally, the mouse
That gives courage like lions;
His heart fills a house.
A mute soul living eons,
Nervously worried with doubt.

Take a look and see
Our neat, distinct collection.
Come inside and be
Amazed by our selection;
Safety isn’t guaranteed.

Come one or come all.
Magical Menagerie,
Where emotions call.

-D.A. Baker

Poetry and Prose

Happy

Science suggests I’ll never feel happy
Because I’m chemically imbalanced irreparably.
In my brain, serotonin doesn’t secrete normally.
When it does, it does so manically.
I have to medicate and tame my thoughts daily.
I take these pills to help me fall asleep,
And another four during the day for anxiety.
But when science says I’ll never really be happy,
I say to science, fuck you, respectully.
Because I’ve felt happiness within me.
I’ve seen, with new perspective, the way sunlight bounces off the trees,
Felt the wind blow across the ocean with a breeze.
I’ve taken pride in my accomplishments and what I’ve worked to achieve.
I’ve seen the raw beauty hiding in something filthy.
I’ve felt love, and I felt it just as deeply,
Felt the jitters of a first date making me queasy.
I’ve felt the warm embrace of a newborn baby,
And I’ve flown across the world to wander in a different city.
In my mind, there’s a kaleidoscope of breathtaking imagery,
Which I utilize and transform into all types of art and poetry.
My mood disorders and fluctuates chaotically,
To the point I question the end of my sanity,
But through it all, I’ll swear to you I’m not crazy,
The undertow I get caught in is only temporary.
As for the science, well, I’m waiting for an alternate theory,
Because nobody should tell me I can’t be happy.

-D.A. Baker

Poetry and Prose

Postmodern Escapism

This isn’t art, it isn’t quite poetry.
This is an idea injected into your bloodstream,
A viral sensation infecting your feed.
Ocular observations espied from your screen,
Wholesomely depicted as acceptably clean.
Nevermind the restless souls on the street,
Look at this puppy, isn’t he sweet?
Society progressing the demise of obscene,
While we rush to share the most poignant memes.
Trending for now, until the next big tweet,
Our next campaign should be #SayWhatYouMean.
This isn’t life, it’s a postmodern dream.
Escape has never been so discreet.

-D.A. Baker