| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VIII, No. II |
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| News - Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Tuesday, 02 January 2007 | |
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The Starpoet
Newsletter
Vol. VIII, No. II
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ <><><><><> that my lyre
is stained with menses my verses
soaked in estrogen does not diminish that I sing these songs beautifully the dearest gods
of earth and heaven laugh and cry at the words I unleash I am a tumbling breeze
that trembles the blossoming cherry with praises for the girl with violet sweet breasts remember me
after the moon and Pleiades have gone remember me when time has passed and I lie alone beneath the green hills and the hunter’s bright stars when the summer wave I breathedwashes white foam across your toes and the sand beneath is drawn back to the ever waiting sea you will remember me my songs my love and the world Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2007 C. E.
(possibly a reprint but a good one)  __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ the new year tumbles me with poems
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ the president in the news
Jerry
When one dies,
Even a president, We all edge closer to the end; Without fanfare, Without flags and circumstance, We all move forward to the exit. The death of one reminds us all
That we will be brief, No matter how carefully We avoid the subject. We do not want
To watch the motorcade,
But we do,
And soon join our voices
In one last memory of our friend. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ more on the president
Gerald R.
Funerals are a comfort,
That I do admit,
A time for the living to remember And then forget. Grand churches and their celebrations
Do help to ease the loss, And I'm quite fond of Bach chorales And Mozart's Requiem unfinished. But I can't bring myself to believe
A funeral effects the funeralee Whose body soon will forever be Amoldering in his grave. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Gender Theory is to Post-Modernism
As flies are to bullshit. LJT
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ new year stuff
On The Road
Grey New Year,
Fog and drizzle, Too many bushes, Not enough presidents; Skies neither blue
Nor deepest black, A colorless morass That dampens all the world. Two long endless calendars
Until the Crawford Nightmare is over; The nation feels like we're starting junior year At some over-rated, ivy league, rich boy school. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ elections
Wanting
1.
I want a black man,
I want a woman, I want anyone But an alcoholic texan Who trembles and stumbles Like my wine-drunk father Who I could not help,
Who could not help himself Until it was too late For any of it to matter.
2.
We tried to cover for him,
He tried to hide it from himself Until he was caught once too often To pretend anymore;
He denied, we denied,
It made no difference: Cigarettes and sauterne killed him, Ending every thing,
Bad times, good times, And leaving only the memories
Of what might have been, If only.
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Off The Main Sequence
This will be an occasional piece of writing, unconnected to poetry, connected to me. I need to write more. The topics, as usual, will be of my own, rather scattered choosing.
You might have noticed, if you have visited StarPoet recently and if you had visited a couple years ago, that most of the old StarPoet (1995-2006) is not visible at the moment. When we moved to the new server, we took the opportunity to revise and revisit StarPoet so that it looks and works more efficiently and, hopefully, has more structure so visitors, including me, can find what they might be looking for. Somewhere over 2.5 million visitors saw the original StarPoet (I stopped counting). Hopefully millions more will visit the new incarnation.
The previous lack of structure (other than what was inside my head) has made it more difficult to deconstruct and rebuild the damn thing than anyone might have expected. But StarPoet will be back – All of It (at least the parts that are still relevant).
They include:
I will not be putting up the various image collections, no matter how many visitors they might have drawn.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ bio of sorts
The Sound of One Dog Barking
I am only a tinkering mechanic
Playing at true inovation, A shadowed poet who knows her debts And acknowledges her roots In the forgotten past.
I have two legs, two arms, two hands,
Two eyes to see the world around me; My brain is not greater than good,
My soul no better than any woman's, Especially hers.
Yet I am her, at a crucial cusp
Where past and future intersect
And the whole world shifts To I know not what. Yet I am here,
At one brief moment of time, Believing I can make a difference, Influence the direction of the thrust, Help determine if we live or die. As a species, I must,
Or forever disappear Into antiquity. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ Hear this, Sunni dog. Iraq is a Shiite country now
Since history is written by those who rule, the annals of the U.S.-supported Iraqi government record that the deposed dictator Saddam Hussein was given a fair trial, sentenced to death for the mass murder of innocent Shiite civilians and duly executed by hanging on Dec. 30, 2006, in accordance with Iraqi law. A tragic era was brought to an end, according to the official history, opening the way for a brighter tomorrow.
it is impossible not to hear echoes of the time when Hussein was the one who wrote Iraq's history. For years, the Reagan administration gave him military and intelligence support to keep the hated Persians from defeating his outnumbered forces in the Iran-Iraq war. In 1983, Donald Rumsfeld was dispatched to visit Baghdad as a special envoy; he smiled broadly as he shook the tyrant's hand.
I wonder if future historians of the Shiite ascendancy will so easily forget the U.S. "tilt" toward Hussein during the war, or America's nonchalant acceptance of the way Hussein's Sunni regime oppressed, persecuted and massacred majority Shiites all those years, or the way America encouraged Shiites to rise up against Hussein after the Persian Gulf War and then backed off and watched as he sent helicopter gunships to slaughter them.
-- Eugene Robinson __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ mélange
Three Views of The Plot
1.
They,
You know, They,
You can't let them get you; Stand up,
Don't let them get you alone; Run,
Run,
Like your life depended on it; Be careful,
Watch out, They are here.
2.
A potter's field, so they say,
If there were thirty pieces of silver,
I never saw them.
Yeshua sent me,
Told me to trigger our plans;
I did, Now look at me, Look at him,
Dead, Dead.
My crazy brothers Think they have lost their Messiah: I have lost a friend
Who history will not remember. I can only guess
What they will think of me.
3.
Let me ignite your cigarette
-- I'm not P.C., I guess --
Let me explode your cherished beliefs, The ones you hold deep in your heart. I have a brain,
I have a pen, And I will use them; Although I cannot fiddle, I too am very good At making a big stink. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ The Unseen War in 2007
Iraqi Ministry of Interior numbers: 12,320 Iraqi civilian deaths (2,000 in December) 1,231 Iraqi policemen Killed
602 Iraqi soldiers
U. N. Figures for 2007 120 Iraqi civilians killed each day 43,800 Iraqi civilians killed in 2007
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ finishing off the new year
The View from the Center
Here at year's end,
The universe ends,
Oscillates, Expands again.
The world reborn
Collapses Into ancient patterns And mammallian hormones That form the subtext Of our existence. Tomorrow is a date on the calendar,
Today,
A chain of events
Extending back To the beginning.
Time moves around our reallity,
Taking the moment from us,
Replacing one with another. We watch from point of priviledge,
Lossing consciousness of the universe. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ still another view
The Eve of Everything
Champaigne and first kisses,
Clock on the ball, Times Square and Seaquist, Dick Clark in the hall; No snow, no chill,
No Iraqi War pall: Party on, everyone, party on, Tomorrow the world may fall. Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ big finish
Cross Dressers Reality Rag
A serial killer is stalking Springfield, Virginia,
Preying on older single women in their homes. In the four cases so far, There is no sign of forced entry. The only common thread is that All his victims are older women. All of you trannies, you'd better watch out,
The Springfield Slasher is up and about He doesn't care about your mat make-up, Or how you dress in your house. And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are you worried about? There's no difference between a woman and man, He don't care about your silicon; And it's 5, 6, 7, 8
Open up those pearly gates.
All of you dressers crossing over the line,
Getting in touch with your feminine side, All of your dresses and political rants Ain't much help against a knife. And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are you worried about? There's no difference between a woman and man, He don't care about your silicon; And it's 5, 6, 7, 8
Open up those pearly gates.
So if you think this is all a game,
That women and men are both the same, Be ready to learn how it really feels To be a woman among all these men, To be a woman when you cannot run, To be a woman all the time. And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are you worried about? There's no difference between a woman and man, He don't care about your silicon; And it's 5, 6, 7, 8
Open up those pearly gates:
This could be your dying day.
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ "Surge" is to "Escalation"
as "Shock and Awe" is to "Aerial Bombardment" as Iraq is to Viet Nam as Donald Rumsfeld is to Robert McNamara as George W. Bush is to
Lyndon Baines Johnson.
LJT
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ PEACE
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1995-2007. Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. Email your letters and postcards or visit her contact page at the Starpoet website. |
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| Last Updated ( Saturday, 06 January 2007 ) | |
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