StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XI, No. XL

Shattered lives, wounded spouses,
Arms and legs, hearts and promises,
Frozen faces lost in memory
Fearful they will lose it all
And their broken tears turn
To lifelong agony.

A man of the cloth,
A person of evangelical interest,
The dynamic leader of a devout congregation
With a fondness for the young lambs
Who are brought to him for slaughter.

A buy the book pastor
Of hellfire and eternal salvation
With a broadband pipline to his God,
Preaching The Word to his willing followers,
Never mentioning his personal exemptions.

One after another, the men of the cloth
Reveal they are men, not infallible,
They beg our forgiveness, defend their weakness,
Pretend they have finally seen the light,
And are reborn in wisdom and God.

No one ever asks the boys,
The victims of both church and men,
None of them will ever forget
The priests and preachers who ask for mercy:
God is in heaven, the pain is here on earth.

Crushed tomatoes, hand picked basil,
Garlic, onions, peppers and oregano,
Cook slowly over a constant low heat
For three or four hours, maybe more.
Brown the meat, season it as you may,
Add it to the sauce early in the day;
Good tomato and anchovy paste,
Soy sauce to taste, layer the flavors
So that no one dominates; fresh pasta,
If available, homemade if you can
-- Spaghetti, rigatoni, linguine, or ravioli;
Cook gently, al dente, serve generously
With a salad, sour dough with a good crust
To sop up the sweetness of the sauce.
Serve on Sunday, with all the family,
Every nephew, niece, and distant cousin
Who might find their way to show up.
Salute!

Darkness,
Three Eleven on the L. E. D.,
Two hours until the alarm finally beeps
That the day has officially started.
So why am I here listening
To the babble of the interstate
When I could be sleeping, dreaming
About my date with Johnny Depp?

I've never met a Bolshevick
Although I suspect I know a few,
But they all deny they're socialists
As they denounce the inherent evils
Of beef cattle Capitalism.
I have been friends with more
Than one rebellious bomb thrower,
But none of them were good shots
And nothing ever came of it
That made the front page of the Examiner.
It's hard to be a revolutionary when you
Barely have a pot to pee in and an ocean
And a good beach are an hour's drive away.
I've never met a valley girl although I'm friends
With many women who chose to live on the river.

A flight of slow-winged birds
Passes black against the autumn sky
After stopping overnight at Accotink
To rest on their trip further down
Into the Confederacy.  Come late March,
They'll be back testing the waters
And the sweetness of the spring.

I love a designer bag as much as the next girl,
But most of mine are bought online at discount
Or from a traveling leather medicine show
That appears periodically at the Pentagon:
I never ask where they get their bags,
A good price is my only interest.
I love a designer bag as much as the next girl,
But that doesn't mean my Daddy let me
Out of the valley without making sure I'd learned
How to be a cautiously good horse trader.

I did not ever walk alone at night
When I was young and pretty and twenty,
And, although I am at liberty now to do so,
I see no reason I should start when I am an
Older and slower target of opportunity.
Momma didn't raise no stupid daughters
And I intend to live a much longer life,
Even if it means staying out of dark alleys
And walking on the bright lit side of the street.

Riding backwards on the Metro,
Pentagon to Springfield;
My eyes on the back wall of a train,
Speeding over the well aged track;
I was lucky to get a seat without needing
To look tired and decrepid as I
Dragged my gimpy leg through the door;
Not that it would have necessarily worked,
Chivalry may not be dead yet,
But it certainly seems inert at times.

There's rain up and down the coast tonight,
Washing out games, extending the pennant race
A few handful of wet September days;
When I was young, the World Series would be next,
But not in the 24-7 of sports cable and the internet;
What follows the season is now the playoffs,
A money-making proposition if there ever was one
With multiple contenders working for a wild card
And an addditional two weeks or more of baseball,
Including the game on Halloween where the first
Ten Thousand or so fans get their choice
Of a free pumpkin or a witch's hat.