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MIKE GOLDEN
THE GHOST VOTE For Robert Frank Sometimes it seems like there's a competition to see who suffers the most, suffers the hardest, suffers the worst. . . Sometimes it seems like we wear our pain like a neon sign blinking on & off outside the window of a dingy hotel room on the other side of the tracks. There's a whore in the room, it could be you, it could be me, but if you look too closely at the object of desire, all the scars illuminate the insignificance of the cries begging for light, begging for love, begging to promote whatever vested interest we're interested in at the moment our attention focuses and snaps the pictures we carry thru time. Some are still life-goes-on of moments that no longer express the eye of the image of the storm blowing up from the Gulf of Memories we no longer care to relate to. Others are young and idealistic seeing the future with the long-term POV of a novelist just following the engine of voice into the dark formula of the screenwriter's plot before the medium changes and there's no longer anything to compare masterpieces-aren't-what-they-used-to-be with but that generic check in the mail still lost somewhere over the rainbow. The mentor knows they may not leave the dance with who they came, but recognizes ethics are only situational, and happiness illusion, momentary hysteria, pickling the brain and tickling the clit of all (hu)-man-kind as it masks the fear of the empty mirror in a hall full of hollow applause winging its way out the back door up to the mountains where we all know they kill innocence like they killed Che every time the ghost vote comes in before death has a chance to do its dance naturally. SHEEP KNOW Can I crawl between the lines here? Forget content this is about context; the dichotomy of separating from the herd in order to build community. Answers usually lie somewhere between contradictions challenging fear while trying to make it home safe at the same time. Even with the window of opportunity open I don't wanna make a career out of asking Who killed JFK? MLK? RFK? or Who killed d.a. levy? either. But would never deny the impact the political trifecta had on me or the mirror the young poet's death provided me in order to see my own choices before I made them. Not that I expect to be able to choose from the only Lotto we're all going to (like it or not) win on the day they call our numbers. Even thinking about the odds of getting through is a young dog's game that eventually turns into the compromise of seeking immortality through art or losing the self thru love of witch's brew. If it makes all you wannabeats feel better I won't deny Ti Jean helped insinuate me with the unbearable chops of my individual but I still don't wanna be part of any remember-the-beats cottage industry. Even to save the squares. Boddishatva philosophy makes a lot less sense now than it used to. It may not be SC(spiritually correct) but I don’t wanna wait for the assholes to be enlightened before I get out of the shitstorm. Got to move to the next manifestation of whatever nth stretches you or become exactly what you're railing against is a strict law of manure. Sheep know it's not enough to be committed to movement so they pick their spots freeze in their tracks hold the line repeating the shtick not the mantra over and over gets them into a heaven where they find out they can't even get a cold one anyway, what's the koan, there, lamb chops? I would say piss on, not in the polluted mainstream but it's already full of that and worse, these lies designated to get to the next level or at least hold your pissant position in the face of the overwhelming odds you'll ever beat the House for real. Sheep know what looks like a score today is just a bone empty of marrow tomorrow, and there has to be an alternative to the alternative that doesn't reek of Godcop. I have questions about the karma I would have liked to have asked Rudolph Steiner but I'm sure he'dve used up so many lifetimes coming up with answers I wouldn't remember the questions. Is there free will? Or just the illusion of free will? seems to be the major question of all existence yet no one can deny it's a moot point. You don't have to be a fatalist to believe fate. No matter what's been said to the contrary I don't take The Warren Commission personally, do you? But everytime I hear a newborn cliché cry everytime I smell fresh cut grass or kiss the sky everytime they say only kooks believe there was conspiracy I'd rather flyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy then join in singing the party liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine: bah-bah-bah. . . Even though I know it's the only way not to burst a blood vessel laughing hooting crying over the herd's karma the herd's fate the herd's lot it seems is to eat their lies over and over without asking why every day is hard except yesterday? But what can poor sheep do? Fight City Hall? Can't win! You know you can't win! so it's no sin to pull the wool over your own eyes? and everybody sing all at once, now children: bah-bah-bah. . The Editor-Publisher of Smoke Signals, Mike Golden ended the 20th century working on assignment covering the King family’s attempt to reopen the MLK assassination investigation for, among others, Vibe, The Source, The Oxford America, Code, The Woodstock Journal and was a commentator on Court TV’s coverage of the King v Jowers "unlawful death" conspiracy trial, and has just finished Been To The Mountaintop, Went Over The Edge, a novel set in Memphis during, and 30 years after, the MLK assassination. His recent book The Buddhist Third Class Junkmail Oracle, on the art-poetry and mysterious unsolved death of the last poet put on trial in America for his language, Cleveland artist-poet-publisher d.a. levy, is being developed as a feature film. |
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© 2004 Underground Voices |
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