TITLE: A Study in Situations
FIRST PUBLISHED: May 31, 2012
SUMMARY: Thoughts on and from every episode of TOS, written in April, 2012. -Some of it uploaded in May.-
oOo
They beamed down to a planet fair
illusions all around the air
the Captain was a man named Pike
he never joked at all (oh my!)
Mr. Spock smiled at a singing flower
two women were stolen with alien power
the Captain was trapped as if in a zoo
but of course he figured out what to do
Number One helped, with a phaser on overload—
and finally the Talosians let them go.
Is this a dream? You ask in confusion.
No, only Star Trek as it could-have-been.
–
Hey, said the Salt-Vampire,
want to go out?
I can be your heart’s desire
all you have to do is die for
it. You humans have such salt—
don’t be scared—it’s not your fault,
and soon you will feel…nothing.
–
All I ever wanted was for people to like me.
I didn’t know what to do to make them.
I tried, but they said I was wrong.
I had no idea what to do.
I got angry when they laughed.
So I made them disappear.
Please, let me stay.
Please, help me.
I want—
please…
–
I killed him. He was strange, changing,
like a god, he said; smiling—
“you should have killed me while you could”
but I couldn’t, though I should
have—I know I should. —Just thinking
Here, about my best friend, laughing
at us all. And his threatening—
but he was my friend. He was good.
I killed him.
It was Spock, who eventually
convinced me, when no one else could,
I should hate him for that. —I should.
I can’t. —I killed him, it was me…
I killed him.
–
Even as I speak, it is a lie
for I can feel my control…slipping…away…
and sudden emotions like a bottle
uncorked…
and I don’t…I can’t…
“I am in control of my emotions.”
I’m not.
not now.
Love
preoccupies my mind—
my mother…how lonely she must have been…
the loneliness I feel now. A stranger…if only I could have told her
that I loved her…
was that too much to ask?
how could I have been so…
so….
he comes in now. My Captain,
my friend.
a friendship I can’t acknowledge even to myself.
because it makes me feel ashamed.
He is trying to tell me something,
but I interrupt…
because if I do not say these things now, they will never be
said.
because I want him to know…
because I want someone to understand.
–
I am
Good
Superego
Unafraid
Kind
Hesitant
Logical
Intelligent
Compassionate
Beautiful
Ugly
Evil
Id
Fearful
Unkind
Decisive
Emotional
Instinctual
Self-serving
Ugly
Beautiful
–
Hello, my name is Harry Mudd,
if you have a problem I’ll help!
Want to be beautiful, rich; and live far away
from this…planet…of yours?
Well I’ve got a ship so hop right in!
My name is James T. Kirk
Captain of the Starship Enterprise
and I don’t trust you, Mr.… ‘Leo Walsh’?
You or your women.
My human name is Spock
and I have observed that something is going on.
Something to do with magical women and Harry Mudd.
And all our lithium crystals are broken
so we are off… we have not yet reached the bottom of this mystery.
My name is Eve
and I once wanted to be beautiful and rich
and live far away from my miserable planet.
I said I would do anything so Mr. Mudd helped me.
Now I am not so sure…
–
I knew Spock would know
that the android wasn’t me—
he knows me too well.
The dark of the cave
hid the silent assassin
of the two redshirts.
The proud scientist
was not man—but an android—
quite unexpected.
Why is it always
the Enterprise that finds the
strange crazy people?
–
(This poem could be about either the scientists on the planet, or the Enterprise crew.)
It was present in the way we
didn’t think about it
in the tense voices as we fought
to find a cure
in the silences lousy with smouldering
anger
and despair.
–
they say it is
impossible
to die of loneliness. But they don't know.
They haven't
been alone
like that... truly alone.
I have always known I'd die alone.
–
A/N: This is an acrostic poem
There was a strange, glowing cube
Heading for the ship when they tried to steer around it
Elsewhere, Balok lay in wait.
Corbomite was the
Only thing that could save them—once they
Realized the game that was
Being played.
One by one, the
Minutes counted down
Immeasurably long, immeasurably fast
The seconds counted down: three, two, one—
End.
Mayhap all was not as it
Appeared. They met the alien—
Not
Evil as they had thought.
Under the low ceilings they
Ventured to meet their opponent.
Except for the explanation, all was over and
Right with the world.
–
All the evidence pointed to Spock
but I couldn’t believe it
when I could ignore the truth no longer,
I wondered—if I had never known him.
I thought he would have some
logical reason—some important, logical reason—
it wasn’t till later that I realized
how wrong it was.
Logic is
a tricky thing—something can fit the rules,
and yet be based on a faulty premise.
In the same way, an emotional duty
can be carried out with cold logic.
And that was it, wasn’t it—
duty. Not logic, but duty.
–
A/N: This poem is a villanelle
The video played
and the four men watched
what it had to say.
It showed a long-ago day,
in a zoo-like spot;
the video played.
Pike was snatched away
and the crew said “what?”
What it had to say
Was of a history grey
and distraught.
The video played
And they sat all day
much too long—but so what?
The video played
what it had to say.
–
Lenore killed once,
Lenore killed twice,
Lenore killed all for her father’s life
Lenore killed four and
Lenore killed five,
she played her game and kept her side
Lenore killed six, and
Lenore killed seven—
she didn’t care who she sent to heaven
Lenore tried to kill eight
and she tried to kill nine
but Lenore had run out of time
Lenore aimed at nine but
instead killed ten,
she murdered her father once and again.
–
The Balance
The important thing
was the balance.
Without it, there would be war,
yet again—
but with that fragile balance,
ever shifting,
ever changing,
it was avoided.
Before our eyes, we saw
the Balance tip—
and right with the destruction of a ship.
–
Alice stood in Wonderland
and gathered her friends around:
We must make these people understand
that we mean them no harm.
The knights in armour are most uncouth,
the samurai are sullen,
Don Juan, that man, is such a brute,
and don’t start me on Finnegan—
But we are nice, polite, and mannered—
We’d never try to kill or maim,
but when we come to them they stammer,
and then turn pale and run away!
–
A/N: this is a sestina.
(Sestinas are unrhyming poems with six stanzas, where the end-words of each line repeat in a different order in each stanza. It has an envoi (last stanza) of three lines.
.
In this poem, every line is said or thought by one of the Galileo Seven. None of the characters speak more than one line in a row; except for the last three lines, which are all the same person.)
.
Logically, I had no choice—
I want none of your logic, you greenblooded Vulcan!
We are going to die.
Act like you at least care.
Mr. Spock will find some way to save us.
Aye, lass, that he will.
I know I'll be the first to die. I will…
He's dead! We don't need your help. Our choice
I want to help, but the others aren't. Look at us—
It's the 'logical' course of action. You're a Vulcan.
Logic is not all—how can you so little care—
We have to kill them, hurt them. Otherwise—you saw. We'll die.
Mr. Spock, I have an idea—we might not have to die.
I was sent to die. I know. The creature seems to follow me through force of will—
I don't know why I go after him, pick up the body—What they said. Did I care?
Spock, I know I'll regret my words later, but I can't stop. No choice—
He infuriates me, scares me. I can't understand him. He's alien… Vulcan.
I know he'll figure it out. I'll stand by him, though the others may doubt us.
Electrify the outer hull, I say—the others watch us.
The creatures are gone. Maybe, just maybe, we won't die…
We have to bury them—give them a proper funeral. I'm no Vulcan.
Humans. So reckless. I will permit it—if the creatures will.
I watch Mr. Spock as he makes a choice.
It's because I'm terrified. Now I care
It's done. We have the power to try, if you care—
Eight minutes until takeoff. You have ten. The creatures watch us—
The spears start. Now, my words forgotten, I turn back—I don't make a choice.
That choice means we will die.
I watch, willing them on. You'll make it. You will.
He was heartless, but just as much to himself. He's surprised me. Vulcan—
Well, Spock. Your last act was very human. —I'm no longer angry with the Vulcan.
I look straight ahead, try not to care—
You said there are always alternatives. I will
Not now. I may have been mistaken. —I don't look at us
I wonder what it will feel like when we die.
I look at the button. There it is, in front of me. A choice.
As if against my will, my hand reaches out, flips the switch. It is not Vulcan.
I have made the choice, and part of me wishes I hadn't—no turning back, but I don't care.
Here we are—all that is left of the Galileo seven. All of us have a chance. A chance to live, or a chance to die…
–
My Name
is the Squire, Trelane—
My Interests—
Earth, and Humans.
They’re Just
So very Much
Unusual, Fun,
And dangerous—each and every one!
–
A/N: this is a villanelle.
If he can make gunpowder
he can win—he said, eyes glued to the screen,
As if, by speaking louder
The man would hear. Time ran down the hour
like a dream,
if he can make gunpowder
All may yet be saved—what’s that? Strange-colored flour?
No—ingredients, a mineral-seam
as if, by speaking louder
He would suddenly have the power
to step through, or make time freeze.
If he can make gunpowder
There would be no need
to conspire.
If he can make gunpowder.
As if. By speaking louder.
–