| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VIII, No. XVII |
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| News - Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Sunday, 22 April 2007 | |
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The
Starpoet
Newsletter
Vol. VIII, No. XVII
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ <><><><><> And wandering among them, wound still fresh,
Phoenician Dido drifted along the endless woods,
As the Trojan hero paused beside her, recognized her through the shadows, a dim, misty figure -- as one when the month is young may see or seem to see the new moon rising up through banks of clouds -- that moment Aeneas wept and approached the ghost
with wonder and words of love: "Tragic Dido,
so, was the story true that came my way?
I heard you were dead ..." Virgil
The Aeneid, Book Six, The Kingdom of the Dead Translated by Robert Fagles
© 2006
 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ jesus what a lousy week in virginia
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ All of the people who noticed that Cho Seung Hui was not stable,
That something was catastropically wrong on the inside, Were women. All the men,
even the five dorm mates who saw him every day, Thought that he was only another loner male; A little odder, perhaps a little stranger, But at the end of the day,
Still just another solitary male,
A man of few words. LJT
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ on our minds
Blacksburg
Altogether
Now let's remember, The person, not the weapon kills,
Our loving god Gave us the right to bear arms,
No matter what the cost,
A man's gotta do
What a man's gotta do, Don't fire 'til you see their eyes. A man deserves attention, Respect and renumeration,
Sometimes only a gun will suffice;
Society's at fault, Certainly not the individual, A breakdown of family by the queers;
Join hands in prayer, Listen to us oh father, We don't understand your plan. An automatic weapon,
Set on automatic repeat; Shooting of its own volition; A large bore firearm, Shots carefully taken, Individuals, each and every time; Forgive us oh lord,
We strive to do your will,
Killing only dark-skinned non-christians. There will be wars
And rumors of wars, The havoc dogs will slip out; Men will be men, Boys will be boys, It's all just harmless fun;
We cannot confine them, We cannot restrain them, We all must make free choice. Establishment of religion,
Freedom of speech, The right to assemble and petition;
A well regulated militia
To secure a free state, The people reserve the right; Establish justice, Ensure tranquility, Make safe blessed liberty for ourselves. Thirty dead in Blacksburg,
Johnston Hall, then Norris, An attack across the campus; A wordless killer, A dormitory resident,
Calm and without expression, Pursuing his victims, Hunting them down, Just another young male gone berserker. Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ frustration seeping out in cheap shots
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Guns
Virginia is for snipers,
Mass murderers, gun owners, Moral indignation and hypocrisy;
It's better to shoot your lover
Than try to ever marry one If you're gay, non-southern, and a sinner.
Lisa Jain Thompson
(poet reserves the right to disagree with her own poem) April 2007
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable
-- Plato __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ truth is in the details
That's Life
itchiness
infection pain and bumps sores growths rashes and burning drooping swelling clogging and cancer
the intelligent designer
needs to review his blueprints. Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ We decided a half a century ago that our more eccentric
and, indeed, crazy fellow citizens would not be easily locked in asylums. It was a humane decision, but with the inevitable consequence that some who really need quarantine are allowed to roam the streets. In a previous age, such a troubled soul [as Cho Seung Hui] might have found himself at the state mental hospital rather than a state university. But in a trade-off -- Charles Krauthammer
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ and then the storm got bad
Vigil
High wind,
No electric, Writing by candle
Downside a Nor'easter.
The night howls,
Breaking limb and tree,
Sending dogs barking
And cats to hiding. A single siren,
Distantly close,
Then silence, a roar
Between full thrust engines. To sleep,
To the heavens listen, Crack and blow
'Til morning overthrows me.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Some parents say it is toy guns that make boys warlike.
But give a boy a rubber duck and he will seize its neck like the butt of a pistol and shout "Bang! -- George Will __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ obsession
Job Description
He was a quiet boy,
A regular singularity, Who practiced at the range
Before he shot; A chaste lad,
Full of moral purity, Who saved others
From wasting their lives
With cold lead.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Type Specimen
School board member Andrew Kehoe, who was upset by a property tax that had been levied to fund the construction of the school building, dynamited the Bath School in Michigan, killing 38 children and six adults -- in 1927.
There is no clear indication as to when Kehoe conceived and planned the steps leading to the ultimate events. A subsequent investigation concluded that, based upon the activity at the school and the purchases of explosives, his plan had probably been under way for at least a year.
Over the next few days there were multiple funerals, with the most, eighteen, held on Saturday, May 22. The disaster made the front pages of national newspapers and remained there until news of Charles Lindbergh's completion of the first solo transatlantic flight broke on May 23, 1927.
Investigators found a wooden sign wired to the farm's fence with Kehoe's last message, "CRIMINALS ARE MADE, NOT BORN," written on it
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ What war has always been is a puberty ceremony.
It's a very rough one, but you went away a boy and came back a man, maybe with an eye missing or whatever but godammit you were a man and people had to call you a man thereafter. -- Kurt Vonnegut Jr. __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ respite
24 Hour Jack
Jack, Jack,
The bullet man,
Shoots a terrorist
As fast as he can;
There ain't no danger
Dangerous enough
To stop our Jack, The bullet man.
Bang Bang
Bang Bang
Bang Bang
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ "I'm a human being, goddammit! My life has value!
-- Howard Beale
Network __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ the reality of it all
You Talkin' To Me?
I got some bad ideas in my head.
-- Travis Bickle Taxi Driver In truth, the plays
Are no more violent
Than Shakespeare, No more scatological
Than Quintin Tarrantino,
No bloodier than any weekend's
Teenage slashing horror movie. In truth, the photos
Are no more scary Than De Niro before the mirror In Taxi Driver, No more threatening Than the Mafia posing On the Soprano's, No more arrogant Than the President Daring terrorists to bring it on. In truth, his ego
Was no more aggressive Than any dozen young men Alone without a top sargeant, No more dangerous
Than Eastwood or Wyatt
In some western boom town, No more full of rage
Than an out of control player Going into the stands in the NBA. He is simply the most recent
And the most visible. Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads.
Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up. -- Travis Bickle Taxi Driver Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ ... So, I want you to get up now.
I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell, "I'm as mad as hell,
and I'm not going to take this anymore!!" -- Howard Beale
Network __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Because the first victim was a woman, Now the police are pretty plainly telling the public
that they failed to warn the campus there was a killer on the loose because they failed to understand that men who kill their partners are also threats to society . . . The idea that you don't warn people
that a killer is on the loose just because you think he killed his girlfriend seems like 1950s thinking. -- Garance Franke-Ruta
American Prospect __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ end piece
Inside Story
I picture myself
Slipping out slowly, A hundred twenty years gone,
With clever words upon my lips.
I cannot imagine
Myself being gone,
The universe and I
Have always been here.
How strange to have
One's body dead
While your brain still knows
You are dying.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
^^\/\/\/\/^^ PEACE
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ |
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