StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XI, No. XV

A night of a dozen hours,
No more, no less,
Eight of which are needed
For sleep,
More or less.

The night is long
The moon is bright
The hours slip by
Cuckoo cuckoo
The poet writes alone

A clatter of birds
Making ready their morning's work,
A whine of bus, a doppler of cars,
The low rumble of the paper truck, dogs barking,
As the driver throws the news on the porch;
Blue sky, scattered rain clouds,
Sun barely above the dull horizon,
The high near ninety come late afternoon,
April at its best most confusing,
Daffodils and tulips all a-wilt.

If I
Were to write like the muse,
My poetry filled
With dancing girls gaily garland'd,
The scent of hyacinths
Would soon o'erflood these lines,
Such lips as yours
Would caress my small breasts
And I would have less time to poet.

1.

I am out of NyQuill
Before I'm out of sneezes
And Benadryl just won't sleep me
Without vastly overdrying my sinuses
Two or three pills into the mix.

2. 

A Jurassic T-Rex stalks my T. V.,
Devouring lawyers and evil scientists,
The Good Guys win, the Plot doesn't change,
And the Dinosaurs go back where they came from,
At least until they make the next sequel.

3.

The stars, the snow, the biting cold,
I do not look forward to tomorrow;
The snow, the cold, the piles of white,
The sore muscles come noon on Sunday
After morning services with the shovel.

Stir me up, my darling,
Stir my flesh and heart,
I am your one and only,
Stir me up real good.

You own my mind and body,
If my soul exists, it's yours,
Stir me up, my darling,
The world can wait on us.

My lips are yours, my darling,
My eyes, my tongue, my fingers,
Stir me up right now and ever,
We've time enough for love.

Do you mind if I begin, or is there
Something more pressing you must do?
Who was that on the phone just now
That caused you to close the door?
I know you can't ever tell me
And I should not unpuzzle the pieces,
So I will forget what may be or not afoot
And lock the memory behind a wall.
But for now, do you mind if I begin?
My body aches for your touch.

We are primates, social creatures,
Our DNA is programmed
To protect our children,
And yet, there walk among us
Golems with broken brains
Who would kill a young child
As easily as raping a woman.

We are a century, at least, away
From being able to change their wiring;
The best we can do in the meanwhile
Is imprison them forever without parole;
The most merciful and safest course
Is to treat them as they would treat us.
I would protect our children absolutely
Before I would ever think of allowing
Some child's killer to go on breathing.

No words, no sleep, attention deficited brain
Bouncing in all directions, Lady GaGa playing incessantly
In a not so distant background; the glare of security lights
Reflecting on the snow, lighting up the bedroom
Close enough to almost read;  Body refusing all combinations
-- Left side, right side, tummy, on the back --
As the sun edges closer to work and rising..

The disaffected lash out at random symbols of power,
Disturbed acts of aggression,
Men who blame others for their misfortunes,
Targetting the sinister forces they believe
Actively obstruct them,
Beliefs now validated and amplified
By online communities of like minded craziness.

There is a broad undercurrent of anti-government discontent,
An ancient American distrust of men of privilege and power;
The web and mainstream radio and television
Echo the feelings of anger and powerlessness;
Conspiracies are seen everywhere and lack of proof
Only reinforces the surety of their belief:
White supremists, anti-goverment true believers,
Religious fanatics and outright sociopaths,
Personally motivated to violence and a radical democracy
Whose foundations are gunpowder, ricin,
And the ever present C-4.

We treating them all with pills and counselling
Until the moment they pull the trigger, blow up a building,
Kill a dozen people or die in a rain of Bonnie and Clyde bullets;
We leave them free to wander about, assaulting us
In the name of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,
Theirs, not ours.

The world is not what it was,
If it ever were what it was;
The future does not exist
Unless we make it,
What will be shall not be
If we wait for it;
Today is a point
We're passing through
That disappears the moment
We have it in our grasp.