one of the
many things
i've never been
able to suss out &
one that sticks rough
in my craw for that fact
is how whenever i've chosen
to not turn off, because it doesn't
have an offswitch, and while we're
not kidding ourselves, no one does
it by accident, on some level you
have to actively decide not to
listen to her voice, but i'll
try to close the circle
quickly; in those
spells, sometimes
going on for many years,
often just for one night, or
even just a few single
moments followed
up by lifetimes'
of regret, the
two don't
match up
by chronology
but by the depth
of hurt caused, still
not the thing that won't
leave my curiousness, that
after trying to ignore her
for awhile, leading to
big and usually not
positive by any sort of
measure, she manifests
through others, like the
winter long ago and sitting
down with a guy sleeping rough
drinking coffee and talking, like
how to keep from freezing to
death when it's less than -40C
with wind chills eq. of -90C
(as soon as having enough
change, buying and nursing
and thawing out), as i was
bundled up along side him
as people walked by, and you
wouldn't believe the vile
mocking remarks, and he
had a cup out, sure, he
was begging like people
have since the dawn of time,
and always will who are in a
tight spot whether of their
own making or that of
others', it's a lonely
and painful existence,
i know first hand that
for more than a year
but less than two &
no one would pick
that life over one of
comfort and leisure
that i've ever met
and i swear the
emotional pain
on his face, in his
eye's it was like a
reflection of in just
that moment what the
eyes of christ crucified held,
a wholesale rejection full of
unearned scorn and viciousness
those without homes to live are
also somehow for some reason
like this societal cruelty valve-
of-reduction, a way to blow
off a stream of anger, and
frustration & contempt,
i believe that so, at least
since we were the then
reagan scapegoat-
of-the-month club
member, and once
a scapegoat always one,
the immense power and
danger our political leaders
hold for good, or for ill, is awe-
inspiring in that old sense,
as in awe of something
both to wonder but
also to tremble
in fear of its power,
and long after reagan
is forgotten, non-existent
in the ordinary and average
public consciousness, his dog
whistles will still echo around
his country, a country with
3rd world war-zone
metropolises full of
***-infected gay
(when it was only
spoken like it's an
inherently bad
thing), drug
addicted,
and either
homeless because
Black people are born
lazy and have to overcome it,
only the sly, and devious are
rolls royce-driving welfare
queens, the drug dealing
crips and blood and
gangster disciples,
or the crazed-by-
nature willie
hortons, born
to ****, and all
with a governor's
blessing, and all this
truly nauseating lying
particularly when it is at
someone else's expensive,
just like in comedy it's a
cheap laugh to get when
just sticking a branch
into a hive and
twisting it a
bit, not like
taking a shot
at yourself, those
ones you stay safe and
protected, like passing a
burning house and throwing
rocks at the windows, instead
of asking what you can do to
help put out the fire, and the
other you have to show
yourself, opening up
to the ridicule you
dish out in big
helpings but
don't want
to face, that
was me again
for about an hour
and i kept marvelling
at how his eyes told so much
with a dozen emotions expressed
in every wrinkle, the exacting
arc of the brow tips, it was i'll
swear to my grave, and if
only in my addled and
oft troubled mind, i
saw the epitome of
what 50 years of
the inescapable
cultural immersion
in all things christianity
like it's as inescapable as
this 7-11 at my back, what i
saw, not hallucination so much
as illumination, the face of
christ crucified, his eyes
dry of tears, but still
they are betraying
buckets of tears
in the past, and a
weight beyond anyone's
capacity, people making
a sport of kicking someone
when they're down, and
saw and heard so many
spew absolute venom
at us, when if we
were working
men having our
coffee break at 2
in the pm, not am,
we'd be invisible, and
compassion was hijacked
by anger, and i hadn't i'm sure
given even a hint, maybe not
mentioning parents was a
tip, but she was there
appearing right in
front of my eyes,
my conscience that
i'd been ignoring, and
that's my strangest secret
belief, that if we ignore her
inside our own hearts she'll
somehow speak through
another, curious folks
at curious times, and
as i was walking
home he called out
you should make some
sort of peace with your dad
and i have no rational
explanation, it's not
subjective like the
pain on a face, &,
yeah, a lucky
guess, but
that's so
beyond any
probability
given those very
particular types of
circumstances, so there
it is... and i listened and
a good thing i did when
dad passed unexpected
just six months on,
and it makes me
wonder if angels
are real as in messengers,
and all around us, we might
be ones ourselves when prompted
to say something out of the blue
when it just feels right, like
we're all part of something
bigger that's all connected
so when one person itches
another scratches for them,
or when we sneeze others
having a tissue at hand, and
i'd rather not have things i can't
explain, but should i come across
things i cannot, i'm going to
leave nothing unturned
of the lesson it seems
to be wanting
to teach me.
rockin' in the free world jam
http://youtu.be/8LW0t_R0ErA