When the Street Begins

It is 5 o'clock somewhere
but the hangover
is somewhere too

and there are places
where the bad news
has been learned from already

so the people
from the recent past
can wise up

learn from the headache
and not make
the same mistake

of underestimating
their bad reaction

and having to clean up
way more puke
than they expected

once they and their bar buddies
have parted ways

and find themselves
too alone again

and this is all in fact true
not one of those
wild ideas

a couched-in-humor
serious idea

that seems only to come up
when 5 o'clock rolls around
in our time zone
when you're channeling Shel Silverstein

and catching a glimpse
of that adult world
in some far-off land

which is a healthy mix
of logic and compassion

and is in fact
still happy to break your fall

when the sidewalk ends.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Silent Star

We still call natural disasters
acts of God

and tornadoes come
out of nowhere
and leave with everything

so it is an apparently
vengeful God

one that won't show
Him- or Herself

one that

outside of the destruction
left behind

won't be talked about
on the news for weeks

and put on trial
for crimes against humanity.

God isn't vengeful

though He feels relieved

off the hook
in a sense
but not really.

Tornado country
is not well-off

but there's no one
around to blame

just a moment to give thanks
for what and whom
He left on Earth

and nothing to do
but rebuild.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Special Rites

Sarah Palin said something
and what she said was sensational

and it was about
President Obama's failings
as a leader

and who should care

since she's just a quitter
who can't settle graciously

for living under Obama's
race-baiting socialist rule

and she is ageless and perfect
in every picture

which is actually bad
because a politician's job
when done with a measure of nuance

not typically found
in a fascist

(same difference
you elitist) dictatorship

is very hard
on the hair and complexion.

She said "Well if I
were in charge

they would know
that waterboarding
is how we’d baptize terrorists"

a statement that
is accidentally brilliant

in that it just may settle
the debate

between so-called "secular progressives"
and so-called "traditionalists"
(thank you Bill O'Reilly)

which is "Is Sarah Palin
an affront
to basic human decency?"

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Bless This Ness

After a satellite image
appeared on Apple Maps
showing Nessie
the Loch Ness Monster in her

(or "his" or "its"
or maybe "their"
since the beast could have

multiple rational
and free-thinking heads)

first major sighting
for more than a year

which is the longest gap
between confirmed reports
since 1925

businesses all over Scotland
are preparing marketing campaigns

around that creature of myth
and late-night binge drinking.

Naturalist Adrian Shine
sees cynicism behind this
direct marketing campaign

saying "The whole point
about the Loch Ness Monster

is that it has not been promoted
in this official manner."

No doubt that commercial
interests have exploited
real people's holy days

exaggerated and even invented
seasonal marketing mascots

but some of these
crass adaptations

have been reabsorbed
into the culture

even becoming
folk heroes along the way.

But in reality
marketing is nothing new
for regular people

who tell stories
that increase social cohesion
while limiting independent thought

or condone new stresses
and new diseases
in their fellow men and women
(which may or may not
include themselves)

trading one means
of feeding a family for another

while relying on
real-time daily mythmaking

through the sincere and unified
adoption of new routines

that "fingers crossed"
are self-fulfilling prophesies

that will make those
fuzzy daydreams come true.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Phoning It Home

If you find yourself
wandering and delirious
in New Mexico

approaching the landfill
near the town of Alamogordo

and you rue your judgment

because that imagined oasis
on second glance
is not as such

maybe you were right
the first time.

No it's not water
(which only
comes in bottles anyway)

but a truckload
of Atari's abandoned

"E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial"
video game from 1983

of which the company
was forced to dispose
during that year's
"video game crash"

after having spent millions
to get the rights from Spielberg.

Those who actually played it
would remember it

as one of the worst titles
of all time

but you could finagle
a few dollars from nostalgic gamers
with "ironic" collections

of terrible vintage stuff.

A desperate venture
to be sure

but a bit more moral
than going into meth.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Blown His House Down

Contrary to that old
cautionary tale
the Three Little Pigs

a straw house can last
one thousand years
so long as it's
fortified with mud

and the longest
ongoing arguments

for why Cliven Bundy
should be considered
a patriotic hero

and not an ungrateful moocher
who let his 900 cows
munch for 20 years
on federal grasses

and presumably would not
breathe a sigh of relief

at the cessation of his
government oppression

were he suddenly
rounded up and consigned
to a fun life
of truly "free" ranching

can survive unchallenged
until the spirit of his life

is betrayed by his utterance
of the letter.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Tell it to Someone

if you do not
or can not
believe it yourself

that life will go on
after your lifetime
is through.

Which is not to say
everything will be all right
in the end

and it is not to say
everything will be terrible
in the end either

because the concept
of "the end"

implies that one current
minute division of time
is the world's final hurdle

which feels terrible
but also a relief

as in an end to suffering
for all.

The realization
that the smallness of our "blip"

is still bigger than what humans 
can know

feels a relief
but also a burden

because existence means work.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Re-Routing the Wheel

Federal Communications Commission

Chairman Tom Wheeler

has proposed new

net neutrality rules

meaning that broadband

network owners

would be allowed to sell

an exclusive high-speed

toll road

to whichever content providers

want it

and can afford it.

Wheeler is a Democrat

who says he is committed

to an open Internet

but open and free

is still a "pipe dream"

albeit with fewer and fewer

cumulonimbus clouds

barring the now

prehistoric metaphorical

superhighway Vine

from being swung upon

by the so-called

have-nots

who still have to rely

on their sweet old

Insta-Gram to snail-mail

their selfies to.

The Internet in theory

gives the privilege

of being in a place

called Nowhere

and you are a person

in a specific place on Earth

repping your particular location

while being granted

the inherent trust

of being just another Greek-prefixed

byte in the stream.

Despite that rather Snappy-Chatty tune

a trustworthy little birdie

may have innocently Tweeted
through the Glass

that stream probably will never

"trickle down".

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

De-Mystified

Nearly 3 million dollars

in bonuses was given

to more than

twenty-eight hundred

employees

of the Internal Revenue Service

between October 2010

and December 2012

but twelve hundred

of these people

had tax issues

or official-conduct violations.

Now granted

their bonuses are something like

one ten-thousandth

of what CEOs get

for their more egregious

stealing from the commonwealth

and those responsible

for the bonuses

will likely be reprimanded

but hypothetically

who can begrudge

the more relatable

Joes or Janes

from doing what has been

successful for those

who have inherited power

in a would-be democracy?

Optimists believe

the people will wise up

and rise up

pessimists believe

the people will be subsumed

and meet our doom

and while these two

were discussing

how they saw the world

finding both points of contention

and overlap

the CEO had a few quick meetings

filled up two glasses

with both their "-Mist" suffixes

and said

"You both look so thirsty."

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

She Carries On

Keep calm

and turn eighty-eight

years old

and be admired

by the descendants

of the hardscrabble farmers

and newly-Industrial laborers

who would've rebelled

(or at least stood

on the soapbox

in the center of town

yelling about how unfair

it all was

to a sympathetic crowd

before retiring to the pub)

or the somewhat more

upper-class people

who just happened not to be

too tired to become

a righteous revolutionary mob

in the same day

and did.

Keep calm and be noticed

for your "very kind eyes

with a mischievous glint"

by the photographer

who captured you.

Keep calm and despite

your station

and now mostly-symbolic title

continue to be seen

as a living how-to guide

on the basic traits of womanhood

(and humanhood)

looking good

and taking charge.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Mass Media

In a show

of unabashed liberalism

yesterday the Pope tweeted

a prayer request

"for the victims

of the ferry disaster

in Korea and their families"

to his three-and-a-half

million followers

meaning that what is supposed

to be an empty gesture

that does nothing

may instead

through the instant virality

of the interwebs

have an impact

on the situation at hand.

And today

on this holiest of days

he tweeted

"Christ is risen! Alleluia!"

which is simply unacceptable

because anyone

who uses two exclamation points

is probably a heretic

meaning someone

who takes time off

from fearing God

in order to showily

"love" Him.

(And where has love

ever gotten us?)

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

R.E.M. G. BIV

There is still time to enter

the National Geographic

Traveler Photo Contest

or you can just continue

to sit in the intersection

of that guttural

and instinctive color appreciation

that for sighted people

provides answers to questions

we never thought to ask

and envy.

(That's cool too.)

As a child this poet

asked a parent

if it were possible

to record dreams

not because they were spectacular

(and sometimes the most

mundane ones

were given the most explication

of all their insignificant details)

but because

the black (or even blue)

formations she scribbled onto a page

would become something subjective

in a reader's mind

which was well and good

but still no match

for those randomly-firing neurons

that gave her those

"real-photolistic" ineffable

and ephemeral

pre-dawn splashes of color.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

The Place to Go

It doesn't matter what

the Weather Girls said.

One can not simply

invite all the world's women

to a centralized location

in "the street"

and have them wait for that

downpour of men

that they claim is imminent.

First of all

they wouldn't fit

(well they technically would

but there would be minimal

elbow or purse room)

second of all

some of them would be hoping

for it to "rain women"

and third of all

even with such variety

they might nonetheless agree

on some common cause

for which they feel

a wee bit (or a lot)

held back or treated unfairly

and start marching in protest.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

The Void of Floyd

Miley Cyrus

has been hospitalized

since Tuesday night

(no not from OD'ing

on twerking while

sticking her tongue out

though it's forgivable

to think that)

due to a severe reaction

to antibiotics.

She tweeted her St. Louis

fans Wednesday morning

since she wouldn't

get to play for them

that night.

But rumor also has it

that she is still in mourning

of the recent death

of her dog Floyd

(reportedly killed

by a coyote).

Her mom Tish Cyrus

bought her a new puppy

named Moonie

but Miley gave it back

because new puppies

can never fully

replace old ones

even after we humans

have done our best to move on

and not all celebrities

regardless of how malleable

they themselves are

think of their pooches

as toys.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

X-Why Axis

Researchers have discovered

an "interacting protein"

on the surfaces

of both sperm and egg

that helps the two

recognize each other

and join.

This protein has

been nicknamed "Izumo"

after a Japanese marriage shrine.

Izumo pairs with "Juno"

named after the Roman

goddess of fertility

(and who later

reincarnated herself

inside of Ellen Page's character's uterus

when she hooked up

with lovable athletic

nerd Paulie Bleeker).

Since the first meeting

of sperm and egg

is the progenitor of

our beloved homo sapiens

(well at least after

the original Big Bang)

and therefore

that of our beauty and cruelty

and mundanity and weirdness

should we also mourn those

who never got to live

in the first place

never even long enough

to be miscarried

or stillborn

whose particular

combination of cells

never formed

for those reasons

which are split into dozens

of college sociology

and history classes?

It sometimes seems easier

than working with

the people we've got

including ourselves.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Un-Founded

Ted Yoho

the Tea Party

(yes they somehow

still exist)

congressman of Florida

when asked

by a black constituent

if he considered

the Civil Rights Act of 1964

to be Constitutional

he said

"I wish I could answer

that 100 percent."

(If only he had then

taken the chance

to declare 

his solemn duty

of defending the Act

from people he may know

who actually would

want it stricken

from our record.)

In his defense

many Founding Fathers

owned slaves

and other Fathers

didn't protest enough

for the document

to be changed

in the 18th century

and yes "Constitutional"

is sometimes used casually

to mean "American-ly

moral and correct".

One could almost

feel sorry for congressmen

and women like him

people with ideas

who aren't smart enough

to learn a fact or two 

or wise enough

to pretend to care

about them.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

If "I" Were Divided

so meaning if

the subject pronoun

that we use to refer

to ourselves were split

into "body

mind and spirit"

or "left

right and other"

or "agree

disagree and standing by

to observe things

as objectively

as possible first"

and we could pick

which part was doing

the "I"-ing

would we only create

more news with endless

spiraling speculating

would discourse be enhanced

or would we arrive

at some reality

that is best for all?

Yes and no

and maybe so?

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Holy Animals

(Sung by Pope Francis at St. Peter's Square)

Oh faithful

do you understand me now

I'm smilin'

for this "selfie"

but I'm sad

'cause leaders are lyin'

when they disguise

themselves as angels

for even great people

can do bad.

I'm just a pope

whose intentions are good

oh Lord

please don't let me

be misunderstood.

Somewhere in the City

When this poet was young

and first heard the expression

"Shining city on a hill"

(probably on some

news show that didn't

seem important at the time)

used to describe

the United States

(both as an ideal

and as an already-achieved "state")

her very mature reaction was

"Why are they calling

a country a city?"

This writer then

had a basic grasp

of metaphor and

figures of speech

but the nominal inaccuracy

was grating.

Names of things

places and people are indicative

of changing biases

maybe preference

for scientific classification

or poetic beauty

or because all the others

were taken.

Sometimes the act of naming

helps expand our consciousness.

Sometimes it limits.

Sometimes it matters

what category or subdivision

of Earth you live on.

Sometimes we're all

in this (or on this)

together.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

What the State Meant

Yes all you well-heeled

well-meaning Republicans

paying one's taxes

is the law and laws

can and should

be tested and questioned

and yes most folks like

having more money

rather than less

but laypeeps poorer than you

(the ones you are allegedly

trying to swoon

as we can see

through your kindly-televised

brainstorming sessions)

readily give up a portion

year after year

to pay for the continued

functioning of a modern

civilized society.

The part of taxes

the laypeeps don't like?

Funding government activities

they find morally repugnant

and funding people in power

who take the money

make the laws

and suppress and oppress

all those people

who we all know

don't actually exist.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Just-ice Do It

Today the invisible hand

perpetuating the forward movement

of our shared timeline

sent the trajectory

of a shoe from

a fed-up Iraqi journalist's

hand at Bush Junior's

press conference in 2008

to that of a woman

in Las Vegas in 2014 watching

Hillary Clinton speak

at the meeting of the Institute

of Scrap Recycling Industries.

Like Bush

she dodged the shoe.

Say what one will

about Hillary's presidential campaign

against Obama

or her term as Obama's

Secretary of State

but if your medium

of expression is footwear-flinging

it helps to be

less cryptic

when you bare your sole.

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Tuesday's Gone (With the Windows)

Yesterday Microsoft

ended support
for Windows XP

meaning the company
no longer provides security updates
to the popular OS

except in the form
of upgrading your system
to Windows 8.

What if our government
had people
that didn't want

other people
to keep something

that made their lives
more functional

(however slightly
or maybe even
just bearable)

and said they had
to upgrade themselves
in order to receive
those benefits?

(Luckily such an ideology
is purely hypothetical.)

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.

Peaced Off

(Peace)

When war was "hot"

(Peace)

it left us cold.

(Peace)

We'd learned that lesson

when "mission" started

as "accomplished"

and ended

nine years old.

War's the answer not

but we ought

to be as bold

and make peace

the cause

for which we fought

not just 'cause

we said

"We fold."

This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.