| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VII. No. XLII |
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| News - Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Sunday, 15 October 2006 | |
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The
Starpoet
Newsletter
Vol VII, No. XLII
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ <><><><><> What a wondrous thing to wake up to Orion,
Sirius and Andromeda bright;
The lower orb lacks more than land mass, Mankind was born under northern lights Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2006  __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ The question no longer is whether a woman can be president
but whether Hilary can be elected. -- LJT
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ the many universe theory
Rompere Le Uova
Nun stà a diri a lu pedi: veni.
One thing I miss in all of this,
I never got a chance to be a mafia princess,
My birthright lost in the genetic mix
That scrambled Palermo’s best intentions. I should be the family matron,
Presiding over Sunday dinner and my grandchildren, The one who makes the decisions for everything but business And passes on the ways of a good sauce and ravioli; The aging dark haired woman, olive skinned, slightly round,
Dressed in some conservative Italian Republican cloth, Who greets the cousins by name and her respectful nieces Under the fig tree, near the tomatoes in the backyard. But that didn’t happen, for reasons still unclear,
I didn’t even get to be comare
To some rising, silk-tied star; But that doesn’t mean I can’t now embrace
Tradition, both American and old country, And choose to make frittate from the eggs that I’ve found. Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ ancient stories
Women and the Dragon
There are always monsters
And strong women to fight them,
Brave women who risk everything
For life and their family. There is a storm inside
That must be calmed If we are to move on from here, The alternative is a slow, inevitable death. If we do not protect our own blood,
All is lost: soul, child, love and fortune.
A great deal will be asked,
A battle must be fought,
The darkness cannot ever
Be allowed to win. Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Axis of Evil 3, George W. Bush 0
North Korea has claimed it conducted its first nuclear test,
Iran refuses to halt its uranium-enrichment program,
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ If the world lets tiny, destitute North Korea
-the freaking Hermit Kingdom- get away with testing a nuke, then who will stop the oil-rich, latter-day Persian Empire from treading the same road? --Fred Kaplan __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ differing philosophies
Behind the Wall
They say
You can't love Two people
At the same time
-- I wouldn't know.
But I do know
You don't stop loving someone Simply because time and space
Were inconducive
And what should have been Was not
And most likely Never will.
I do know
That in the heart Love lives
Long past the moment
When it all fell apart.
Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ working the coordinates
1815
Moving on,
You fall in love again, Never forsaking,
Always wondering What might have been.
If words weren't said,
Actions not taken,
What might have been, Becomes,
Lost chances are retaken
By the mind, The kiss lingers
On the lips,
In the soul,
As time collapses
To begin again.
Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ And though I had slain a thousand foes less one,
The thousandth knife found my liver; The thousandth enemy said to me, 'Now you shall die, Now none shall know.' And the fool, looking down, believed this, Not seeing, above his shoulders, the naked stars, Each one remembering. --John M. Ford The Final Reflection SF and fantasy writer John M. ('Mike') Ford, born 1957, has died at the age of 49. Ford was the author of several diverse and distinctive novels, including World Fantasy Award winning historical fantasy The Dragon Waiting (1983), Star Trek novels The Final Reflection (1984) and How Much for Just the Planet? (1987), SF Growing Up Weightless (1993), co-winner of the Philip K. Dick Award, and urban fantasy The Last Hot Time (2000). Ford won both the World Fantasy and Rhysling awards for long poem "Winter Solstice, Camelot Station" (1988). His last book was short story collection Heat of Fusion and Other Stories (2004).
Against Entropy
The worm drives helically through the wood
And does not know the dust left in the bore Once made the table integral and good; And suddenly the crystal hits the floor. Electrons find their paths in subtle ways, A massless eddy in a trail of smoke; The names of lovers, light of other days- Perhaps you will not miss them. That's the joke. The universe winds down. That's how it's made. But memory is everything to lose; Although some of the colors have to fade, Do not believe you'll get the chance to choose. Regret, by definition, comes too late; Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate. -John M. Ford
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ Conservatives prefer old knowlege, some of which is outdated.
Libertarians prefer new knowledge, some of which is untested.
Moderates prefer a best of breed combination of both new and old.
Liberals prefer to shout down any new or old knowledge that might disagree with their position.
Religious conservatives believe knowledge is unchanging and comes directly from their god.
Science believes that knowledge does not exist unless it can be verified by testing.
Post Modernists believe that the words mean nothing, believing only their own academic publications.
Poets, on the other hand, believe the words are everything and life, too precious to leave to the academics.
Lisa Jain Thompson
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ partner benefits
She is
Older than me,
But not that old; Taller,
Yet not unmeasured.
She moves with me,
I with her:
Time Space
Dimension by Dimension
Always was and will
Forever
We
Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ If an actress on a television show appears to have had breast implants, does that mean the character she plays also has breast implants? __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ History today
Jihadi
Unlike Elizabeth,
The President makes mirrors
Inside men's souls,
Judging how deeply
Jesus has been received. Elizabeth was victorious,
The President is not:
The Armada still sails
A world unfettered
By apocalyptic philosophies.
Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ In Gene's Chat
From a person inTennessee:
Gene, a man broke into the apartment of my sweet daughter at 2 a.m. last week, woke her and told her if she screamed, he'd shoot her. He was there for three hours. She'd never seen a gun before nor had she had an experience of this sort. For three hours she thought she'd die any minute.
The hospital personnel were gentle and understanding, the detectives were kind, but the regular policemen kept asking her why she didn't scream (what part of "if you scream, I'll shoot you" did they not understand?!)
I feel a twisted gratitude to the bad guy for not killing her. I also feel a desire to never let her out of my sight forever -- which is difficult since we live 550 miles apart -- and rage at the officers for being so insensitive. They made her feel that she was responsible.
All of our relatives live near her, so she's looked after, lovingly. Thank God, or whatever, that she seems to be coming through this emotionally intact.
Later it occurred to me that there are some societies on this planet in which her own family would have killed her because because she was raped, bringing shame upon the family.
That's all I wanted to say. She's okay. She's alive. I'm shaking like crazy just typing this.
Sorry to bother you. She's alive. My beautiful, sweet daughter is alive.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ dealing with it
Shadows
The first political sticker I put on my bumper
Was for Bobby Kennedy and the Last Crusade; I hear his voice coming from the mouth of Obama
And wonder who’s lurking to kill the dream. Clack clack clack,
Nightmares of the train,
Humphrey in Chicago, Nixon in Miami Beach.
Six more years of Viet Nam
Before the bug-out,
How many more in Baghdad
Before the blood runs out? A bullet from the depository,
A bullet to the balcony,
A bullet in an L. A. food service pantry,
Nixon wins! Nixon wins! Nixon wins!
Watergate, Carter,
Reagan, Bush and Clinton,
Bush again, Bush again,
Disaster worse than ever.
A shadow in our soul,
Showing up on the x-rays,
Gunpowder residue staining our democracy,
A grievous, mortal failing. The first political sticker I put on my bumper
Was for Bobby Kennedy, working on the Last Crusade;
I heard his voice on the streets of Sacramento:
I don’t know if I can go through that again.
Who waits slouching inside the shadows
To swallow me whole before the sunrise? Lisa Jain Thompson
October 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ SF fan and writer Wilson 'Bob' Tucker,
born 1914, died 6 October 2006 in St. Petersburg, Florida, at the age of 91.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ We are not lost.
We are locationally challenged. -- John M. Ford
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ 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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