Friday Love Poems: Patrick McGhee!

I am delighted to relaunch Friday love poems with a friend and former student, Patrick McGhee. Don't forget, you can always submit to me!
 http://theserotoninfactory.blogspot.com/2015/07/call-for-submissions-friday-love-poems.html

Open Letter From Eros to Dr. Helen Fisher

I thanked you.

I thanked you, because I thought you had set me free from

The broken hearts that are still un-mended

The abusive relationships that are never ended

The unrequited lovers that have always pretended to be nothing more than friends.

I was so tired, so I gave you the power and said,

“Show them love exists.”

But you resist, hiding behind computer screens

Trying to glean which chemical shoots up which neuron.

Doctor, you have misdiagnosed every single patient as an addict

To the endorphins you say are morphing their brains

To copulate to populate the world.

And I ask you.  How did this happen?

They used to love.

They used to be addicted to nothing but the beating of their lover’s heart

Pumping love from one chest to rest of the other’s body,

Because they were human beings, and I was around long enough to know

That that’s what they were designed to do.

Poets would fall in love ten thousand times before noon

Lovers remarked that the sun’s light at night made love to the moon.

And I ask you.  How did this happen?

Making them addicted to your anthropological theories

Infatuated with your biological technology

In love with the drive to your office.

All this for what?

But the madness of the gods is not something

You can shove in a drawer and move onto more

Important tasks

So I ask you.  How did this happen?

How can you sing the praises of science

When it is your self-reliance that has taken the mystery of love out of our history books;

Muffled the flutter of hearts who see without eyes their lover’s face

Or taste without lips the salt the slips into the dimples of their hips.

But you don’t see any of this.  Do you, doctor?

Love is not enough, though, is it?

You want to prove that I don’t exist as well,

Well, before you finish the job

I use my dying power to curse you:

You will never experience love again. 

                                                                Find a substitute. 

                                                                                        I dare you.

You can read all the Inuit poetry you wish,

But you will still miss that surge passion while you witness

Every single person finding love

While your conclusions will only find that human beings are complicated—

More complicated for you to measure with the physical volume of their hearts

And until you accept this treasure as truth to ideal

You will never begin to understand love

Or calculate what lovers can feel.

Poetic License Horoscope Valentine to You (plus a song.)

Dear Readers,

I heart you so much, I’ll be your Valentine any year. May the stars spell out your every silly wish. XOXOXOX, Jane

Love and the Science Museum

(The Franklin Institute, Philadelphia, PA)

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): At the science museum, there is a Cell Phone Disco. If you stop there and call someone, it records your phone’s signals in sparkling red lights. It’s beautiful and terrifying, kind of like communication itself.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): To the Pisces who fixed her own fireplace: You stopped yourself from being suffocated. You purchased tools and parts. You restored your home to warmth and woodfire. You’re my absolute hero.

Aries (March 21-April 18): In the words of Kanye West, (and the Roseanne theme song, and, well, Nietzshce) “That-that-that that don’t kill me, can only make me stronger.” Whatever pretty thing you’re waiting for, hang in there. It’s coming.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): “Electricity is the only thing fast enough to carry the messages that make us who we are.”-Dr. Rodolfo Llinàs, Neuroscientist.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): On the Earthquake Simulator, you can build a little structure with magnets and see how long it withstands the shaking. Reinforce the foundation and build low to the ground.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): “Chain reactions are beautiful. Like a ballet of falling dominoes, a finely tuned chain reaction seems to generate its own energy, powered by the tiniest push.” –Sign on the wall next to the Rube Goldberg machine.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Black holes, though they may be the “Monsters of the Cosmos,” spew out matter as they suck it in. They seeded the universe with all the stuff we’re made of. Thanks, black holes!

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): I should have known that the hallways inside the giant heart would be unnervingly narrow. There were movies of blood cells moving across the ceiling. Its pulse was faster than my own. A machine told me I have 35 cups of blood, and I believe it.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): There is nothing quite as romantic as falling asleep to Radiolab. (You should go back and listen awake, though. It’s really good.) Let your dreams float in and out of posited situations, through language lost and love letters found.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22):  There are many ways to get mild shocks at the science museum, including touching a key that simulates Ben Franklin’s famous lightning. Be careful what you touch, but watch for pretty revolutionary flashes.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): The Benjamin Franklin statue is surrounded by children’s hands-on experiments. Enlightening things are happening to Dixie cups, pencils, yeast. Start your own miniature experiment, see what eurekas you tonight just before sleep.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): To the Capricorn giggling in the church aisle about a first date: ‎"Some cried out, they tried to take it to the streets/But I wanted it to be heard so I said it in the sheets"-Josh Martinez. Take the revolution to bed and make it your own.

Poetic License Horoscopes is a free syndicated series which appears weekly on such lit blogs as The Serotonin Factory, Critical Mass  and The Legendary. If you are interested in adding the Poetic License Horoscopes to your lit journal / lit blog, please email me at serotoninfactory@gmail.com.

A Few Pictures from The Franklin Institute

 It was surprisingly claustrophobic inside the giant heart.

 Turns cell phone signals into light.