Starpoet by Lisa Jain Thompson
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Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VIII, No. VIII

Saturday, 17 February 2007 20:00 Last Updated on Saturday, 17 February 2007 18:45
The
Starpoet 
Newsletter 
Vol. VIII, No. VIII
  
 
 
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When they asked what love is
I told them
You had me park my car
Close to the house
-- While you took the far space --
So I won't slip on the ice
 
 
When they asked
How we stay together
You said
Don't leave
And they thought there must be
Something more
Than just love
That keeps us together
 
 
Some magic formula
Or wandering god
That binds us
On to the other
When the answer is always
Love
And only love
And a high tolerance
For the vagaries of living
As one
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2007 C.E.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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poems and a lot of ice
 
 
 
 
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for practicing 'sexuals of every persuasion: a suggestion of soft core
 
 
 
If I
 
 
If I were a virgin
-- When I was --
My body could tremble
Little more than it does
When your hand
Slides between my thighs
And touches me;
This shudder that convulses me
Would be no more respectable
If you were my first
And these quaking hips
Still undiscovered country.
 
 
These lips you slip between
Would be no sweeter
If never kissed,
My voice, no louder
When first I moaned
Beneath some lover's attention.
 
 
Let us not lie about the momeent:
We are here,
The bedsheets are fresh and new,
Our bodies care little
About whom they cling to;
Love is all tonight
And we, the fortunate two.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
 
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ice storm
 
 
 
The Ice Storm
 
 
Ice
Come morning
More ice
Broken by falling snow
Melting
Turning to still more
Slipslickery frozen water
By nightfall
Plotting underfoot
Waiting patiently
To grab us
And rearrange earth and body
Into intimate embrace
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 

 
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If NBC promised they'd kill the cheerleader in a sweeps episode,
millions of women would tune in to "Friday Night Lights." 
-- Lisa de Moraes
 
 
 
 
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observing the wildlife
 
 
 
Squirrel on Fence
 
 
Fat grey squirrel straddling red wood fence
Four legs overhanging as she suns herself
Sometime soon the high angle of her nest
Will fill with warm cuddlies waiting to be set free
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
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observing the wildlife
 
 
 
Rebellion
 
 
The ones whose blood is left in battle,
Whose bodies rot in solitary,
Are most always replaced
By well fed politicians
Who wax eloquently
At monuments and remembrances,
Somehow having missed
Sacrificing anything
For the cause they sent us to die for.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
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Body Sculpting and the Future of Science
 
 
 
Scientists are growing customized breast implants from stem cells. Recipe: Extract stem cells from your fat, mix them with regular fat cells, grow them into fatty tissue, and inject it into your breasts. It's been tried on nearly 40 women so far with no serious ill effects.
 
Rationales: 
 
1) These implants are natural; they're really yours.
2) They won't leak, as old silicone implants do.
3) They won't shrink if we can grow them with built-in blood vessels, thanks to the stem cells.
 
Caveats:
 
 
1) We don't know yet how they'll hold up over the long term.
2) So far, we can only grow them to half the size of a synthetic implant.
 
Well we all know what the deal breaker is.
 
 
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no particular reason this pushed its way to consciousness 
 
 
 
Stalk Talk
 
 
I haven't had stalker in several years,
I must be doing something wrong,
Or perhaps I am just slipping.
None in the bars,
None on the internet
Unless you include
Cross-dressing hackers
Who try to send worms my way,
Or anti-transsexual
Transgendered zealots
Who would prefer me dead
Rather than alive,
But no competent stalkers,
No indescript testosterone
Cruising the beltway to find me,
Not even an angry lesbian or three.
There just ain't no therapy
Like being loved.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
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Off The Main Sequence
 
All in all, I prefer the meter of lyrical obscenities to a response rife with lifeless pedantic drudgery.
 
All in all, I prefer the satirical parody of aging radicals (aren’t we all) to the old leather scent of stern reprimand.
 
All in all, I prefer an occasional good fuck appropriately positioned to the constant dry hump of professors and politicians.
 
All in all, I prefer the colorfully over the top individualism of participatory democracy to the dull pedestrian boundaries of the collective.
 
All in I all, I prefer the messy chaos of the universe to coloring within in any lines ever provided me by church or government.
 
All in all, I prefer a good bottle of cognac to a bottle filled with gasoline, and personal action and responsibility to commandments given me from above.
 
A radical inside the establishment, over time, removes a few feet of the mountain; a thousand radicals may reduce the mountain to rolling hills; a million radicals will remove the mountain and replace it with a deep trench whose sides look like mountains to those living in its depths.
 
Lisa Jain Thompson © 2007
 
 
 
 
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caught in the poet's lense
 
 
 
Presidential Vision
 
 
Sunni's and Shiites marching hand in hand,
Singing sweetly annointed Psalms
Of glorious Democracy
As they create some mullah driven new testament
In the golden spires
Atop the pleasure domes of central Baghdad.
 
There is something fundamentally flawed
About this presidential wisdom,
Some naive limitation of vision
That prevents and deviation
From his basic political scripture,
Some unchanging inflexible inspiration
That guides his steps from A to B.
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
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using the 100 MM lense
 
 
 
The Source
 
 
When we bomb Iran,
We should take our president
And stretch his arrogant body
Over an anthill as we impeach him:
The righteous, compassionate Republican
Believes in his divine right
To impose his personal Texas
Without a semblance of democratic intervention.
If we are to take out everyone
Who has helped our enemies,
We should start first with Saudi Arabia
And work our way up and across
Until we rid ourselves
Of the French and German companies
Who reap small fortunes
Selling arms and nuclear technology
To anyone with the gold to pay for them.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
 
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Statesmen will invent cheap lies,
putting blame upon the nation that is attacked,
and every man will be glad
of those conscience-soothing falsities,
and will diligently study them,
and refuse to examine any refutations of them;
and thus he will by and by
convince himself that the war is just,
and will thank God
for the better sleep he enjoys
after this process of grotesque self-deception.
 
-- Mark Twain
 
 
 
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poetry as it were
 
 
 
Po' Verse
 
 
My love is a lovelier love
Than any love should be,
 
Her kisses set my soul asail
On passions temptuous sea;
 
Never ever would I doubt her
For forever shall she love me,
 
And I, her perfect imperfect poet,
Shall love her close to perfectly.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
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Antipathy towards Muslims, meanwhile, threatens to roll back hard-fought anti-racist gains, which, over the decades, have won a degree of respect for ethnic minorities and an acceptance of the principle of difference. These gains have always been fragile. Important ground is now being ceded as Islamophobia becomes the acceptable face of racism and the attack on multiculturalism finds important new recruits.
 
Of course, we must take terrorist threats seriously - but also the price we pay for these alarums. They magnify our sense of trepidation and persuade people the worst is about to happen: it is under the cloak of such fear that governments on both sides of the Atlantic have been able to impose swingeing restrictions on civil liberties.
 
 
-- Martin Jacques 
Research fellow at the Asia Research Centre
London School of Economics.
 
 
 
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starpoet
 
 
 
Cosmology
 
 
Elucidating the nature of dark matter,
A poet might talk of hidden grandeur,
Forsaking the luminous, great spiral patterns
That stretch as far as brilliant Hubble sees
For the mystery of dwarf spherical galaxies,
That lurk in stellar darkness
To challenge the structure of the universe.
A poet, that muse-driven supercomputer simulator,
Can illuminate the most ghostly matter,
Even those stripped of stars and heat and light,
While she elicits some distant baryonic presence,
Clothed in tidal shocked swirls of multiple orbital traverses,
From the dark matter shadow of the cosmic ultraviolet.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
February 2007
 
 
 
 
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Bonaparte instituted the setting of merit above birth, and also so completely stripped the divinity from royalty that, whereas crowned heads in Europe were gods before, they are only men since, and can never be gods again, but only figure-heads, and answerable for their acts like common clay. Such benefactions as these compensate the temporary harm which Bonaparte and the Revolution did, and leave the world in debt to them for these great and permanent services to liberty, humanity, and progress.
 
 
-- Mark Twain
 

 
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PEACE
 
 
 
 
 
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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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