| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VIII, No. XXI |
|
|
|
| News - Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Sunday, 20 May 2007 | |
|
The
Starpoet
Newsletter
Vol. VIII, No. XXI
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ <><><><><> Morning
Chilly Like time has slipped from May
Back to some other spring day Still caught in winter
We linger in bed
Arm and leg
Until the dog commands
Our attention
And the day offically begins
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2007 C.E.
 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ poems, thoughts, and dead bodies -- people and friends come and go, I remain afloat on mother ocean as I have since the beginning. When I wash ashore, someone else will fill the chain.
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ When you walk through a storm
Keep your chin up high And don't be afraid of the dark. -- Oscar and Hammerstein but make sure you look around
Before you venture down that alley __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ looking around
The Auxiliaries
Men would prefer I were a few inches shorter
-- Men prefer women be shorter than men everywhere. I'm allowed to be equal if I'm wearing four inch heels, Or be higher if I'm serving them beer; But day to day, moment to moment, Most men are uneasy looking up at a woman, Especially one, all uppity and unserviant, Who doesn't bow her head to the powers that be Or admit the superiority of half the human species, The ones who have a penis as God obviously intended. Lisa Jain Thompson May 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ a friend who left the room
For Becky
We die
So easily
Lingering our few moments
Until we're gone
A memory
Fading more each passing second One more hour
Or one more day
Is never enough But may be all We'll ever know
Hold on to your friends
Talk to your parents
Both may soon be gone
Or perhaps you will
Wrap yourself
Around your lover
And treat each fucking night
Like you might lose tomorrow
Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2007
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ If you wish to be loved, love.
-- Seneca
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ ego
The Poet's Complaint
I have outlived Shakespeare,
Not to mention Morrison
And all the rest of the all dead band, Kit Marlowe and Elvis
Were foul lumps of decaying flesh By the time they were my age. And yet, I have barely started,
Five decades learning craft,
The future holds fifty more
To move this burning globe
Into an orbit of my own choosing.
Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare,
it is because we do not dare that things are difficult. -- Seneca
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Falwell
God has smote Jerry Falwell dead
-- wonder what took Him so long
The Jews are returning to their land of unbelief. They are spiritually blind and desperately in need of their Messiah and Saviour.
I think Muhammad was a terrorist.
I do question the sincerity and non-violent intentions of some civil rights leaders such as Dr Martin Luther King Jr, Mr James Farmer, and others, who are known to have leftwing associations.
I do not believe the homosexual community deserves minority status. One's misbehaviour does not qualify him or her for minority status. Blacks, Hispanics, women, etc are God-ordained minorities who do indeed deserve minority status.
It appears that America's anti-Biblical feminist movement is at last dying, thank God, and is possibly being replaced by a Christ-centered men's movement which may become the foundation for a desperately needed national spiritual awakening.
On 9/11: I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularise America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen'.
On Desmond Tutu: I think he's a phoney, period, as far as representing the black people of South Africa.
On Tinky-Winky: He is purple - the gay-pride colour; and his antenna is shaped like a triangle - the gay-pride symbol.
all quotes by Jerry Falwell
R.I.H.
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.
-- Seneca
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ one day in the newspaper
You Never Walk Alone
(The Women Men Never See) Wise men know well enough
what monsters you make of them --Hamlet
Walking home from a restaurant,
Someone running close behind, A plastic bag over your head,
Fighting for your life.
Leaving the Roslyn Metro,
A man comes up behind, Plastic bag across your face, You push back and he walks away. The beginning weeks of March,
Neither early or late,
Hands in the darkness grope you,
Feeling your breasts and thighs.
Walking home when the library closes,
Men's hands reaching out of the night,
All the police do is suggest
Women not walk after dark alone. Morning over in Prince George's,
A woman getting into a car,
A man with a gun demands money
And assaults her when she has none. A woman parking her car
In a garage attached to her house,
A man takes here purse and keys
Then vanishes back into the street.
Late at night in her car at the curb,
In a spot not far from her home,
A man with a gun wants money,
Then rapes her near a row of town houses.
Stay alert,
Be aware, Look out for strangers
And things that go bump in the night; Beware of any unusual vehicles,
A man may be lurking Just out of sight
And gaining on you.
Ah, women, women! Come, we have a new friend
But resolution, and the briefest end.
-- Antony and Cleopatra
Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ the persistance of memory
The Azimuth at Mid-cycle
It is all so confusing
-- I know where I was
When my babies were born; The first in Chambersburg,
The second in the Poconos,
The third and last, the only boy,
On a cold december morning
In Fairfax County;
I was in the delivery room,
Caught up in contractions
As I learned and relearned The meaning of effacing.
Now I see three grown adults
Who once I held in my arms, Who took the milk I offered them
And grew rapidly through high school
Until the girl who once I was Now finds herself at middle age Unable to remember Where all the time has fled.
Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ There is no great genius without some touch of madness.
-- Seneca
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ something about the navel
Starlight
Were I anything but what I am,
Consumed by our existence,
My poetry would clang noiselessly,
A brass cymbal tumbling through empty space.
I speak with the words of a woman,
Schooled in classical conceits,
But if I do not address Both world and universe, I am little more than an educated druid Caught up in my own conceit.
This is my body,
Overweight and aging;
This is my blood,
These words that stain this cream;
I am the poet of the new covenant,
The mystery of these electrons
Tracing back to ancient Greece. I have no choice
But speak what I must,
The gods may damn me If I am not true to our humanity.
Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2007 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ This body is not a home but an inn, and that only briefly.
-- Seneca
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ PEACE
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ |
|
| Last Updated ( Saturday, 19 May 2007 ) | |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|