| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VII, No. XXXI |
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| Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Sunday, 30 July 2006 | |
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The
Starpoet Newsletter Vol VII, No. XXXI you're only lonely
if you insist that we two aren't one if you pretend
all those nights we spent didn't exist and our love just electrons passing in the darkness of our imaginations
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2006 C.E.
 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ <><><><><> July has ended for all practical purposes, the heat, like the war goes on.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ any bar any weekend
Friday Night at the Stars and Stripes
Voices at the bar,
Music in the background: Couples talking, Former couples drinking, People pairing for the moment Or for the night. Cigarettes in the air, Whiskey on the rail, Children running tables While their parents finish dinner: Just another night At the Stars and Stripes, Waiting for the sun to set And the singing to begin. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ cartoon world
Animé
mundus vult decipi
ergo decipiatur Complex storylines,
Saucered-eyed mascara, Elaborate costumes And carefully coiffed hair: Seinen Bishôjo
As drawn by Petronius,
Stuffed full Of proud and queenly attributes Befitting the mother Of Tiberius Claudius. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Although preaching war and national security may be good
for the Republican party at the ballot box, It is somewhat less beneficial for the long term good of the country and democracy. -- LJT
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ memories of a childhood May
Procession
I remember our Blessed Mother’s procession,
A wreath of flowers in my hair, sweet roses in my hand, Singing her praises in our soft high sopranos.
As we walked in our new dresses on our way to crown
The Queen of the Angels with the blossoms of May,
Our voices rising Salve Regina’s To the smiles of the nuns by our sides. I can see it all it my mind still:
My grandparents waving as we marched by, My father with his box Brownie recording the moment, The cake and ice cream afterwards While the adults chatted about the family And my mother warned me to be careful with my dress, My brother running up and teasing me, Knowing I couldn’t fight back. Sometimes memory is better than the reality,
The slings and arrows of our childhood No longer quite recalled, the lonely summer days Long forgotten in the frenzy of our growing older; The desperations of meeting expectation are lost In the carefully edited constructions of our maturity. The Virgin never saw my dress, I never had the chance To show her how pretty I would be In my white communion gown with May flowers in my hair. Mater misericordiae
Dulcis parens clementiae. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ The Ballad of the Imam and the Shah
(An Old Persian Legend)
by James Fenton
to C. E. H. It started with a stabbing at a well Below the minarets of Isfahan. The widow took her son to see them kill The officer who'd murdered her old man. The child looked up and saw the hangman's work -- The man who'd killed his father swinging high, The mother said: 'My child, now be at peace. The wolf has had the fruits of all his crime.' From felony to felony to crime From robbery to robbery to loss From calumny to calumny to spite From rivalry to rivalry to zeal All this was many centuries ago -- The kind of thing that couldn't happen now -- When Persia was the empire of the Shah And many were the furrows on his brow. The peacock the symbol of his throne And many were the jewels and its eyes And many were the prisons in the land And many were the torturers and spies. From tyranny to tyranny to war From dynasty to dynasty to hate From villainy to villainy to death From policy to policy to grave The child grew up a clever sort of chap And he became a mullah, like his dad -- Spent many years in exile and disgrace Because he told the world the Shah was bad. 'Believe in God,' he said, 'believe in me. Believe me when I tell you who I am. Now chop the arm of wickedness away. Hear what I say, I am the great Imam.' From heresy to heresy to fire From clerisy to clerisy to fear From litany to litany to sword From fallacy to fallacy to wrong And so the Shah was forced to flee abroad. The Imam was the ruler in his place. He started killing everyone he could To make up for the years of his discgrace. And when there were no enemies at home He sent his men to Babylon to fight. And when he'd lost an army in that way He knew what God was telling him was right. From poverty to poverty to wrath From agony to agony to doubt From malady to malady to shame From misery to misery to fight He sent the little children out to war. They went out with his portrait in their hands. The desert and the marshes filled with blood. The mothers heard the news in Isfahan. Now Babylon is buried under dirt. Persepolis is peeping through the sand. The child who saw his father's killer killed Has slaughtered half the children in the land. From felony to robbery to calumny to rivalry to tyranny to dynasty to villainy to policy to heresy to clerisy to litany to fallacy to poverty to agony to malady to misery -- The song is yours. Arrange it as you will. Remember where each word fits in the line And every combination will be true And every permutation will be fine: From policy to felony to fear From litany to heresy to fire From villainy to tyranny to war From tyranny to dynasty to shame From poverty to malady to grave From malady to agony to spite From agony to misery to hate From misery to policy to fight! __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Let's not forget who gives that first ray of hope to the child
and who is responsible for sustaining it.
In the chain of broken promises that blight a child's life,
parents usually provide the first link.
-- Courtland Milloy __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ from earlier this month
A Nice Place to Visit
The Fourth:
Food ready,
Grill heating,
Summer sun In the mid-nineties already,
Cold beer in the fridge, Flag flying in the breeze, Family coming over
To celebrate Independence. When we are young,
The day is all fireworks;
As we grow older, We value the people And the sparkle Of the the childrens' faces When we set the heavens ablaze. The child looks up,
The adult looks back,
Linked continuously, Past, present, and future: America, For good or bad, Our America.
Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ At any given moment,
The future of the country is more important Than the idiot who might think He's in charge of it. -- LJT
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ when I was young
Fourth Grade
When in school we ran,
I always finished last, My left leg caught up In non-paralytic weakness That took years For me to run out. The joy I felt
The very first time The last Was anyone
But me. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ We have accepted the lawyer-diplomatic fantasy
that talking while North Korea builds bombs and missiles and talking while the Iranians build bombs and missiles is progress. Is the next stage for Condi to go dancing with Kim Jong Il?" -- Newt Gingrich
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ rummaging inside a transsexual life
Gash
By life divides, before and after,
September, Nine Eleven, A planned division Made more profound By the jihad crazies Of Osama bin Laden. September is the month I was to emerge From the self-imposed cocoon That protected my identity; That September is the month
I was to shed my chrysalis And complete god’s work Left imperfect at birth. Perhaps all knowing god objected To what he knew were my intentions And his wrath sent flight seventy-seven With ninety-six souls Into the west side wall to warn me; Or perhaps all merciful allah Protected me, Directed the nose of the plane, The burning fuel, the bright explosion, The 125 deaths he required Of my co-workers inside the Pentagon, Away from where I was working So that I could finish what he had begun Before hormones screwed Screwed up my fetal development. I’ll never know, but I know this: The moment of my deliverance Was slipped by history Until we could take count of events
And bury our dead at Arlington. July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ PEACE
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ Send your letters and postcards to This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it © Lisa Jain Thompson 2006
Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. |
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