StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XII, No. XLI

Saturday, 08 October 2011 20:55 Last Updated on Saturday, 08 October 2011 20:54

The StarPoet Newsletter
Vol. XII, No. XLI (October 9, 2011 C.E.)

In the year 1492 of the common era, my Italian ancestors made contact with my American ancestors, my British Isles ancestors, that mongrel European mix, making contact circa 1680 of the common era or earlier.

Bye Bye, Steven Jobs has died,
Pancreatic cancer don't tell no lies,
Buried in a coffin that's thin and light,
Steven Jobs, Steven Jobs has died.

Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2011 C.E.


Fall brings changes from the summer heat. Leaves fall. The world dies to be born again in Spring. Poems and a bit of Gene Weingarten (you have been warned).

early morning fall
Orion and Cassiopeia
Orion and Cassiopeia Face off an hour before dawn, Sirius watching from the east, Jupiter still high in the west,, Andromeda fighting the treeline To be seen -- a dark, coolish morning With Sharon still asleep in our bed.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

The only way to figure out what happened is by going to the real data. And when we do that as scientists, the one thing that keeps coming back, no matter how many times we’ve tested it and gone back to the fossil record or the genetics lab or something else: we evolved. -- Tim White

family matters
The Greyback
The greyback stares at me Knowingly through the plexiglass, I hold his gaze, One great ape to another; He would have his liberty Along with his family's, I would engineer an escape If I knew where they'd be safe; He watches as a tear forms in my eye, Sighs, And turns away.
Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

the state of the state
Memories of Elephants
Guards with Uzi's in the parking lots, Squad Automatic Weapons at the bus stop, AK-47s and Glocks at the drug store, 9-11 nostalgia all around. Bomb dogs patrolling the walkways, Eyes on the roof and interstate, Spooks on the Metro, Plain clothes at the Starbucks, Helicopters visible loudly overhead, Just another manic workday, 9-11 nostalgia all around.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

Pirate walks into a bar. He looks like most pirates -- eye patch, parrot, peg leg, etc, but he also has a huge tiller wheel impaled on his groin. The bartender looks at the pirate, looks at the tiller says: What the hell is that? Pirate says: "Aye don't know, matey, but it's driving me nuts!" -- Gene Weingarten

stagger lis
Stagger
Stagger, stagger, Left, right, Stagger left, Stagger right, Such is the walk Of an everyday poet, A token remembrance of polio at three.
Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

A pirate comes into a bar, looking very worse for the wear. He has a peg-leg, a hook for a hand, and a patch over his eye. The bartender asks, "What happened to you?" "I'll tell ye (in proper accent - arrrrrrr). I was seeking the great white whale, and just when I was about to harpoon him, I fell into the water and he bit off me leg." Bartender: "And what about your hand?" "Well, we were attacking a ship, and I had jumped to the deck in a vicious sword fight, and just as I was about to run me sword through the captain, someone came up behind me and cut off me hand." Bartender: "And your eye?" "I was walking down the street, looked up, and a bird pooped in me eye." Bartender: "But that wouldn't make you lose your eye." "It was the same day I got me hook!" -- Gene Weingarten

the final answer
Volition
Before I would take poison, Sleeping pills, or lead, Before I would stick my hand Into a brightly woven basket Or leap from the cliff's lip Into the coldly waiting sea, I would need to know that this would be My last willful act before slipping Into irrationality. I will not go gently into the night, Mistaking my grown children For friends long dead: I will not exist without my words, My life unmetered and empty, I do not continue if I am silent My breath my only sound. Leave me be, let me die, Even help me along if you can, But do not keep me lingerly alive To justify some guilt-filled morality, Help me celebrate a long eventful life: Then let me go into the darkness As quickly as you can, For I have a question that I must ask That only death may answer.
Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

life begins on opening day without a box score
Touch Them All
An ocean of castaway dreams Fills the night and quiet moments That spiral around my existence, Shouting to overwhelm me, Threatening to take back control. What would I do, if and when? What can I change, who can I save? Thought moves relentlessly along the timeline While I wait in centerfield for the ball to descend, The obscenities and cheers from the stands go unnoticed As I track the ball's flight into my glove. The runners begin to move, I throw home towards the plate, Replaying the various possibilities and ambiguities: I do not select that pitch when I learn the final score. The game continues on newly grassed fields.
-- Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

Everyone poops: It's a physical need For elephants, leopards or birds, That doggie you worship as well does the deed, So pick up her sanctified turds. -- Gene Weingarten

starpoet
Entry on the Papyrus
My tomb will not be looted, No gold adorns my body; My scrolls will not be burned, My papyrus has many copies. Delete me if you will, there is Always a record someplace; Cut out my tongue, blow out my brain, These words will long outlive me. I am Lisa Jain, singularly StarPoet, Remember me.
Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

the world we live in
The Anniversary
I run from the network specials Filled with endless loops of 9-11, Find solace immersed in the Eighties, Listening and watching basic cable music videos, Shutting out the reality that has become our lives. I cannot exist in the past, I do not exist in the future, We are all stuck here somewhere in the middle Waiting for the other shoe to fall While we put on our expensive make-up And carefully designed clothes. I am not of this world, We are all part of this slow, twisting death That refuses to leave us be, That demands our attention each hour, each day Until the rough beast is satiated. We make our way towards oblivion And the next latest, greatest evolutionary experiment Along earth's timeline. The planet crumbles, steel, smoke and concrete, Cities fall, the world shakes and rattles, Throwing us off like rainwater from a dog To bury our bones beneath the ages. In the eyes of the universe we are no more substantial Than the echo of brass and cymbal. We will be seldom notice when we are gone, Our bare carcasses reconstructed in the great apes display Next to scientific speculations of gorilla and chimpanzee As the disinterested school children of our replacements Are quickly herded past on their way to the refreshment stand.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

It's tough to get excited for any politician when you are working as a barista with a college degree.

real politik civics
Emergency
Traditions and values, god, flag and country, This is not the first time we have abrogated our values, The Civil War, World Wars one and two, We compromise our personal freedoms To the exigencies of war. Security triumphs over liberty in time of emergency, Our fundamental rights are moot and meaningless If our nation no longer exists; still, our comittment To both law and country must be reborn If America is to continue. Those who complain but decline to serve are no more Useful than a movie critic or university professor Who stands outside the world around him Throwing stones at something he refuses to comprehend: We are all in this together or surely we shall fall apart.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)

interplay
Women I look at women now To admire their attire, Take notes on their fashion sense, Acquire ideas for mine; Except, of course, When my gaydar goes off, Then everything is up for grabs, Especially if they Buy me a drink first.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (October 2011)
What would a Gaius Baltar Administration do about getting us more jobs?


Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1948-2011. Back issues are in the Newsletter Section of the StarPoet website. Visit my contact page and get in touch.