On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

Networking, presenting the numbers
Adjusting the data for benchmarks
Reviewing best practices
Speaking vapid motivational drivel
Accompanied by pastel-toned slideshows
Full of dull corporate graphics—

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

Acting with intention
Staying centered
Celebrating balance and cultivating awareness
Curating selfless acts of charity
(yet still suppressing God at heart)
Being connected in authentic community—

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

Believing in yourself to achieve your goals
Seeking your own inner light to guide you
Recognizing how deserving you are
Working towards what makes you happy
(denying there will be a judgement of your soul)
Creating your own reality—

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

PROMPT 24:

write a poem that begins with a line from another poem, but then goes elsewhere with it.

Lucifer in Starlight

ON a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he leaned,
Now his huge bulk o’er Afric’s sands careened,
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars
With memory of the old revolt from Awe,
He reached a middle height, and at the stars,
Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank.
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank,
The army of unalterable law.

George Meredith (1828–1909)

Ready for any feminist feat
In her boob-tube and starry skirt,
Wonder-Woman looks petite
(though probably ought to don a shirt)
In, fact we’d better make her black
Before her foes, unhinged, attack . . .

Go-go boots show off her legs
Muscled for emancipation;
And for bearing wonder-eggs
Through empowered ovulation.
Binary gender’s warrior queen
Bursts forth upon our sexist scene,

And bristling with the strength of ten
Of her not-so wondrous sisters,
She centers red-starred crown, and then
She’s off to fight the truth’s resisters:
Rosie the Riveter’s better half—
An old-school feminist sacred calf.

PROMPT #17:

write a poem about, or involving, a superhero

NB: an astute commenter noted that I made a comic mistake.
(Marvel not… oh, whoops; Diana of Themyscira is actually DC)
This is indeed Wonder Woman, NOT “Superwoman” as first scribed.
Therefore a quick poetic edit was called for…

I wish that, philosophically,
I could commune with my dear wife . . .
Instead, we biologically
Against all odds, amidst the strife,
Pursue one therapeutic end
Where pleasures, with relief, descend.

I wish we could discuss the arts—
Talk poetry and invoke the Muse.
In place of that, by fits and starts,
We thrill to what we can’t refuse:
Theory made practice, sweaty, hot…
Conjecture spurned for what we’ve got.

One who heard us was a woman named Lydia,
from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, 
who was a worshiper of God.        Acts 16:14 [ESV]

I’ll say it straight to Alice Walker’s face:
Veil for prostitutes and genderqueer beasts—
A color fit for hierophants and priests;
Symbol of both the decadent and base.
A hue unfit for tablecloths at feasts . . .
Scarlet is regal. Blue, too, has its place.
Let Thyatiran Lydia state her case,
But purple celebrates strange swelling yeasts.
No fault in bordering on indigo
As long as chroma stays within the blue.
But mix it up with red? Don’t do it. No.
Yet, good contrast to yellow’s golden grail . . .
What says the holy humble Murex snail?
Feel me: PURPLE is not the way to go.

PROMPT #17:
write a poem that repeats or focuses on a single color.