Newsflash:
Saturday, 14 April 2007 20:00
Last Updated on Sunday, 15 April 2007 06:35
The
Starpoet
Newsletter
Vol. VIII, No. XVI
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The mother of spring storms
Moves towards the shenandoah
Moves towards the shenandoah
By nightfall
It will have crossed
And
And
Be upon us
Let us plan to be safe
In each other's arms
For our supper
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2007 C.E.
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Post-easter, pre-taxes. The storm to end all spring storms moving in, all I can think about is getting my nails done before the sky opens and I am drowned.
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The Few, The Brave, The Private Contractors.
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starting off with easter aftermath
A Liter of Chardin
I will not live my life as if
I want to go to heaven,
Nor will I circumscribe my actions
For fear of some lame god's wrath;
I want to go to heaven,
Nor will I circumscribe my actions
For fear of some lame god's wrath;
I have no need of divine intervention
To delineate for me what's right from wrong,
Nor will I bow to some narrow dogma
Claiming to be the inspired words from god.
To delineate for me what's right from wrong,
Nor will I bow to some narrow dogma
Claiming to be the inspired words from god.
If god were the reason for my decisions
To take this path and not take that,
I would be less than I am to refuse the gifts
That are the birthright of our humanity,
These coils of gray matter, this flesh and bone,
This curious source of all we are.
To need some god to command me
To take this path and not take that,
I would be less than I am to refuse the gifts
That are the birthright of our humanity,
These coils of gray matter, this flesh and bone,
This curious source of all we are.
To need some god to command me
Would deny all that he created:
A thinking ape, a wayward angel,
Who can make her choices on her own.
Who can make her choices on her own.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
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Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment.
There is no why.
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poet on poet
Traveller
(Redefining the Reservation)
(Redefining the Reservation)
If I were the wife of a poet,
A writer of sci-fi fables,
The world would dismiss me
As a minor distraction,
A writer of sci-fi fables,
The world would dismiss me
As a minor distraction,
And unlettered woman of privilege.
If I were the wife
Of a black hispanic weatherman,
One raised by the Sisters
And properly credentialed,
Of a black hispanic weatherman,
One raised by the Sisters
And properly credentialed,
Academia and the New York Times
Would embrace me as one of their own.
But I am a daughter
Of an ancient lyric poet
Touched by the favor
Of the long dead gods;
Of an ancient lyric poet
Touched by the favor
Of the long dead gods;
My words echo through all ages
But this one:
But this one:
Remember me
While I still taste breath.
While I still taste breath.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
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Live by the harmless untruths
that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.
that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.
Cat's Cradle
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something for the groundlings
Shakspur & Friends
If I could be prime and proper,
It would not be
By choice
or
Inclination.
If I were to be silent
When you fuck me,
When you fuck me,
Neither one of us
Would end up
Very Satisfied.
Very Satisfied.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
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I remembered The Fourteenth Book of Bokonon,
which I had read in its entirety the night before.
The Fourteenth Book is entitled,
"What Can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth,
Given the Experience of the Past Million Years?"
which I had read in its entirety the night before.
The Fourteenth Book is entitled,
"What Can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth,
Given the Experience of the Past Million Years?"
It doesn't take long to read The Fourteenth Book.
It consists of one word and a period.
This is it:
"Nothing."
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observational humor
Silhouettes
A short skirt and shorts
Are much the same for a girl,
A matter of choosing
A matter of choosing
The proper place and time.
A girl in a skirt for a guy
Opens up a whole new world,
One filled with fantasy
And improbable adventure.
One filled with fantasy
And improbable adventure.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
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where I've been
Take One Capsule
(Maybe 2 or 3)
(Maybe 2 or 3)
Pamelor,
Nortriptyline Hydrochloride,
A serotonin tweaker for migraines,
A last line of defense for mid-night attacks
That wake you screaming from your sleep
A last line of defense for mid-night attacks
That wake you screaming from your sleep
-- A side effect, a trade-off,
The meds quiet my muse's voice
So that she must shout for me to notice,
So that she must shout for me to notice,
Forcing me to mine deeper to find her magic.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
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Tiger got to hunt, Bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder why, why, why? |
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Tiger got to sleep, Bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand. |
Cat's Cradle
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a political entertainment
The Rose in Winter
Idol ain't got no soul,
No heart beneath
The hypenotic cheerleading;
America in the new millennium,
Looking for a voice
To lead us from this wilderness.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
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…I have wanted to give Iraq a lesson in democracy
—because we’re experienced with it, you know.
And, in democracy, after a hundred years,
you have to let your slaves go.
And, after a hundred and fifty years,
you have to let your women vote.
And, at the beginning of democracy,
is that quite a bit of genocide and ethnic cleansing
is quite okay.
—because we’re experienced with it, you know.
And, in democracy, after a hundred years,
you have to let your slaves go.
And, after a hundred and fifty years,
you have to let your women vote.
And, at the beginning of democracy,
is that quite a bit of genocide and ethnic cleansing
is quite okay.
And that’s what’s going on now.
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a political entertainment
CSI
Every hour a soldier dies,
We watch the contestants' songs;
We watch the contestants' songs;
Every moment a marine goes down,
We argue bling and hair;
Every second an Iraqi blows apart,
We debate the grayness of our soul:
On our ranches, in our SUVs,
On our ranches, in our SUVs,
Behind our 'puters and high def sets,
Listening to our digital music machines,
Dressed in our current styles.
No pain, no loss,
No existential embarrassment:
No existential embarrassment:
We send our legions,
Wash our hands,
Then return to the music
Playing loudly in our headphones.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
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True terror is to wake up one morning
and discover that your high school class
is running the country.
and discover that your high school class
is running the country.
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one more for the groundlings
The Moaning Game
I can feel him thrust deep inside me,
Swelling my vagina, stretching me,
Swelling my vagina, stretching me,
Pinning my legs back
Beneath his muscle’s sweat,
Until he drives me past the pain-pleasure point
Where my body explodes
My mind collapses,
And I hunger incoherently for still more.
Beneath his muscle’s sweat,
Until he drives me past the pain-pleasure point
Where my body explodes
My mind collapses,
And I hunger incoherently for still more.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
you can go take a shower now
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Who is more to be pitied,
a writer bound and gagged by policemen
or
one living in perfect freedom
who has nothing more to say?
a writer bound and gagged by policemen
or
one living in perfect freedom
who has nothing more to say?
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soaring
The Flight of Angels
If time were always now
And the present always here,
Even Xandu's mighty pleasure domes
Would soon grow obscurely dim.
And the present always here,
Even Xandu's mighty pleasure domes
Would soon grow obscurely dim.
If all the world were forest
And trees grown green everywhere,
The moment would be lost in a sea of boredom
The moment would be lost in a sea of boredom
While the species grew fat in Eden.
If we did not ever sin
Nor dare risk our timid souls,
We would little more than animals be,
Nor dare risk our timid souls,
We would little more than animals be,
Barbie Dolls for the immortal gods.
Yet we are seldom timid
Or satisfied with our bounds;
We would, like Lucifier, concede god's heaven
We would, like Lucifier, concede god's heaven
For the riches of the changing universe.
Lisa Jain Thompson
April 2007
April 2007
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Somethings are universal across the species and social classes:
when Don Imus called the Rutgers' women's basketball team
"Nappy haired hos",
Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson were upset
over the use of the word "nappy"
as a personal insult to their own skin colors,
not that their women were called "hos."
when Don Imus called the Rutgers' women's basketball team
"Nappy haired hos",
Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson were upset
over the use of the word "nappy"
as a personal insult to their own skin colors,
not that their women were called "hos."
Apparently, playing the race card is more important to them
than showing concern for the verbal abuse of women.
than showing concern for the verbal abuse of women.
LJT
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Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1995-2007. Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. Email your letters and postcards or visit her contact page at the Starpoet website.
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PEACE
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Starpoetby Lisa Jain Thompson.
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