You useless man, Socrates -
I think you need a shower…
I don’t know what the Athenians
find in you but as far as I can see you’re just wasting time
hanging out in the market places
and at dinners and symposiums
where all you do is stay late drinking nights
and talk about philosophy, and ideas
and of origin of things and justice
and nature of human beings
and such useless, impractical things;
and you bring not a cent home
and I can’t count on you for regular support
as all women and good wives might expect of a husband;
and you can’t even hold a good argument with me
for all you do when I use my Xanthippe’s questioning method
against your so-called Socratic method
all you do is mumble and tumble
and use words like shrew and nag
when all I’m asking of you is for you
to keep your part of the implied bargain in marriage
to put some food on the table
and bring some silver coins for the future of our three children:
Lamprocles, Sophroniscus and Menexenus -
have you forgotten them? Do you even remember their names?
And so you bring no money
but instead all you give me are empty words
and lofty words and airy words
and words coined in your head
and you put silly ideas that’s just confusing our children
and if not for me taking the children under my wings
they’ll just turn out to be mere
talkers and market-place prattlers
and hangers-on and leeches at other men’s feasts.
They may have a place in misguided history
if they follow your way
but they will bring weak bodies to their wives
when it is their time.
I don’t want them to be talkers,
and idealists and philosophers, Socrates –
I want them to be responsible
and I want them to bring meat and coins home
regularly and steadily, Socrates.
Socrates, you old man, I don’t care what they say of you
in the Greek world –
I haven’t had proof of your worth and value
here at home, especially in the kitchen.
You useless man, I think you need a shower;
maybe this water from the chamber-*** will wake you up.

A, Anorexia.

B, Body Image

C, Cutting.

D, Death.

E, Emblaze.

F, Forgiveness.

G, Gene.

H, Helpless.

I, Insane.

J, Jocund.

K, Kindness.

L, Lost.

M, Memories.

N, Numb.

O, Oxygen.

P, Patience.

Q, Quiet.

R, Rejected.

S, Suicide.

T, Tired.

U, Undo.

V, Vivid.

W, Worthless.

X, Xanthippe.

Y, Yellow.

Z, Zombie.

It rumbles and roars
The rage I harbor in my bones
Unsung song of contention
Bitter and bilious in my mouth
Because when I tried to speak,
nobody was listening

Boundries of consent are drawn at home
And maintained before being extended
To a world where Xanthippe is a slur
Between giving up a career and giving in to a creep
There isn't much of an option

Shame is the best weapon after fear
In the arsenal of patriarchy
Ammo of choice for its sari draped agents
To keep young women in line lest they
Sprout a tongue or mind of their own

Decades of silence has fed the fire of rage
Licking and moulding my contours
Till I turn into Jael yielding pen
Refusing to be a collateral any longer, ready
To nail Sisera, with or without a Barak to celebrate

Xanthippe was a shrew.

Living with her teaches me how to get along with the rest of the world, said Socrates.

Living with her teaches me how to get along with the rest of the world.

Said Socrates.

I learned the truth of women
It isn't very pretty
Here comes the rain
Dialogue, Plato

Xanthippe was a shrew
C'mon, Kiss me Cate
I like Paul Theroux
At least the way he writes

It's meaningless this life
Still we have to live it
Will we meet again?
No, I don't think so

Virginia is for lovers
And for losers too
Took the Tucson Train
Saw the Phoenix Lights

             Goodnights!

Notes Mr. Markson

The man who wrote Dixie
Was a Northerner
From Ohio
Horrified to discover
Southern troops sang it in the Civil War

It was also a favorite of Abraham Lincoln's
Who requested it to be played
When Lee surrendered
At Appomattox
A gesture of good will

Mary Todd Lincoln
Elizabeth Shaw
Xanthippe
Kiss me, Kate

Oh I wish I was
In the Land of Cotton
Old times there
Are not forgotten

     But I'm gonna have to wait.

I like the idea
Of poetry as shared privacy
I try to let you in
Dear reader

Sleet and freezing rain coming
Hath the rain a father?
David Markson in Mexico
David Markson's daughter

Xanthippe was a shrew
Alas, I understand
Susan is gentle caring
Alas, I am not her man

Keep an eye on Denver
Rocky Mountain High
Come some soul September
I too true Thai Wai

           Purple goes the sky!

Xanthippe was a shrew
So was Mary Todd
Feminine insane
Have trod, have trod, have trod

Pythagoras he loved numbers
137. 72.
Vincent's eyes were green
Susan Meek's are blue

               Pondicherry Zoo

Shakyamuni and Yasodhara
Socrates and Xanthippe
Jesus and ?

Playing good D again today
And I'm on the attack
Ron Desantis was in Baghdad
When George W. Destroyed Iraq

Midnight's Broken Toll
I eat a Midnight snack
You shook me all night long
And I'm Back in Black

Exoplanets spin
Maybe UFOs
Yearning still within
No one really knows

Xanthippe was a shrew
So was Mary Todd
I'm in Taipei 101
And 101 is odd

have trod, have trod, have trod ...

marriage is real misery
the fighting never ends

the female mind quite unkind
better to be distant friends

Jesus had no wife
Xanthippe was a shrew

The Buddha fled a marriage bed
Probably we should too

                   Achoo!