Friday, October 16, 2009

Why I Shouldn't Run for Office

Okay.

In the following blog, i will probably piss off or alienate plenty of people. It seems to be one of my basic skills, along with cooking and being able to rip pieces out of my brain and put them on paper.

In a recent discussion with my parents, one in which i was (probably accurately) described as being "too extreme" and/or "paranoid," i was ranting (as usual) about the current state of affairs in America, the world, and so on and so forth, blah blah blah, yackety smackety (i'll spare you the play-by-play), i was told that if i didn't like the way things were, i should run for office. Now, that's a really ridiculous idea: me, Todd Pack, aka Grendel, running for public office. Forget for a second that there's a lot in my past that could (and would) be dredged up and media-pumped into a huge scandal. Forget that the people with the most financial resources usually end up winning (like, say, having the manufacturer of voting machines being one of my major supporters). Let's zero in on what most of America totally ignores when voting: the issues. Oh, the candidates will TALK about issues, or take stupid things and transform them into issues, and then make promises regarding those issues that they intend to break as soon as they're in office. But, are the issues what it's really all about? Well, in case i'm ever stupid enough to try a stunt like this, and in case there are people in America stupid enough to vote for me, let me lay out a few of these issues and my opinions about them.

1) The Economy: Economists have been warning us, over the past decade--at least--that the consumer-driven economy (which is not quite the same as capitalism) is doomed to fail. Our current economy is based on consumers and commodities, and assumes that there will always be consumers capable of purchasing these commodities. Basically, the economy is top-heavy . . . those with the most pull the strings on what's popular, what's promoted, what's ignored, and all with the singleminded goal: to earn a profit. So far, so good. But, as we've seen in recent years, the accumulation of wealth seems to reveal a common flaw: GREED. Having more money doesn't satisfy . . . like any addiction, it reaches the point of diminishing returns, whereat the addict requires more of the same thing in order to reach that "high." I have nothing against capitalism in and of itself, but our economy is not BASED on capitalism, but is rather a malignant cancerous outgrowth of it. My attitude towards the economy is simply this: "You cannot serve God and Mammon." Period. The word "Mammon" represents material wealth and the things it can acquire. You might as well say "The Bank," "Profit," etc. I find it ironic (and infuriating) that so many people who self-avowed Christians seem to completely avoid this Biblical truth. It's as if the thought of Christ flies right out the window when it comes to turning a buck. Will the economy recover? Possibly. Will it take another down-turn? Probably. Will it ultimately fail altogether? ABSOLUTELY. I could get on a long side-track here by dissecting what people SAY about money and what their actions regarding money say about THEM, but that would probably turn into another rabid, foaming-at-the-mouth rant, and i do that enough as it is. So, let's turn to another subject.

2) War: What is it good for? Turning a profit (see the preceding paragraph). The United States, France, Great Britain, Russia, and China ALL turn a profit on arms sales. They sell to both sides of the fence. Don't think so? Well, those of you who are old enough (or have read history and retained any of the knowledge gained therefrom) will remember that when Russia was invading Afghanistan, the United States was supplying the Taliban with weapons, military technology, and training, in order to help keep Russia out. The same group of individuals who were involved in the 9/11 attack on American soil. This is just one recent, modern example of something that's gone on for centuries. Huge corporations stand or fall based on whether or not a war will occur, and how long it will go on, and how much profit can be gained from it while it continues. The people who supply these arms seldom--if ever--have to look on the carnage firsthand, or suffer one iota of the misery caused. Is war a necessary evil? Well, given mankind's track record, i'd have to say it probably is. But, if war is a necessary EVIL, how can ANY war be called "good?" Nowhere in the Quran do the words "holy" and "war" appear together, but the words "holy war" are bandied about by many who claim to be Islamic. Likewise, you'll find a lot of people who claim to worship the Prince of Peace, the One who commanded "LOVE YOUR ENEMIES," calling for war, citing "patriotism" as their reasoning. How exactly are we "loving our enemies" by lobbing bombs at them, by gaining huge profits from arms sales and developing new and improved ways of killing off more people, and then actually claiming that God WANTS this? Even if you're an agnostic, an atheist, or a voodoo priest, this "playing both sides of the fence" HAS to be ridiculous. The fact is, one one hand, we're (and by "we," i mean the United States) are condemning and attacking Islamic leaders and people in Iraq and Afghanistan because of human rights violations, and on the other hand are oppenly supportive of an individual like Suharto, who has kept his countried embroiled in civil war that has resulted in tens of thousands of deaths, an Islamic leader who, according to Bill Clinton, was "our kind of man." The war in the Middle East has been going on for thousands of years. Our "intervention" and "liberation" are insignificant drops of water in the comprehensive ocean of that war. But, now that we're there, and feel we have to protect our investments, we've been caught in what could be aptly described as a combination of a bear-trap and a land-mine. We're stuck in an explosive situation, and whether we stay there or leave, it's going to explode . . . but that's not a valid excuse to add more explosives.

3) Prayer in Schools, "Under God" in the Pledge, and Other Voodoo Semantics: The Christian Church has gone to bed with politics, and whenever that happens, the child of that union is a monster. I'm not going to belabor the point, just point out a few truths that should be self-evident. First of all, if you teach your kids to pray at HOME, then they'll carry that with them wherever they go. I often prayed in school . . . particularly before exams. There's nothing to prevent anyone from praying silently while they're IN school, or at work, or anywhere else. The government, by definition, cannot prohibit or forbid--this would be a violation of a Constitutional guarantee. Simply put, this "non-issue" is a way of throwing off responsibility. Christian belief is rooted in the concept of individual responsibility, and "family values" vary depending on the family in question . . . so, flush those buzzwords down the toilet. I ENCOURAGE people to pray at home, in school, at work, on the road, EVERYWHERE. And "prayer" isn't a wish-list, or a hotline to complain about the service. Prayer is intimate conversation with God. I don't want an unholy world having ANY say in how or when i pray. And, "In God We Trust" printed on our money is outright blasphemy, because when people get their hands on those bills, God's usually the last thing on their mind. "One Nation Under God"? Get with the program . . . ALL nations are under God, and just because people are repeating it by rote doesn't mean that they're actually thinking that . . . in fact, it's the other way around. Anyone can recite scripture, and they're often apt to do that if it makes them look good in public. But saying it and MEANING it are two different things. Jesus said of the Pharisees, "You strain at a gnat but swallow a camel whole!" It's the same thing here . . . you're quibbling over mere dogma and completely ignoring God's Spirit while you're doing it. YOU CANNOT LEGISLATE MORALITY. Christ's life, death, and resurrection put things back in order, making each of us responsible, making each of us "ground zero" for our own "revolution." You cannot please God by following rules, but rather by letting the Holy Spirit motivate you, changing you from the inside out. And if THAT happens, people around you will notice. Sure, you're going to encounter opposition, that's part of the deal . . . in fact, REJOICE when you encounter it, because it means you're doing what you're supposed to be doing! But others are going to follow your example, and be enriched by the way you live your life, and that's God working through you. Don't let the government, or any other earthly body, control the way you live your life before God. If you want to pray in school, pray. If you don't, don't. It's as simple as that.

4) The Sanctity of Marriage and the Right to Life: Okay, this could actually be a continuation of the preceding paragraph, but i've separated them for thematic purposes. I don't believe that homosexuals should be forbidden to have civil unions. Why not? Well, the same government that blathers about "the sanctity of marriage" has allowed legal brothels in Las Vegas. If they REALLY believed in it, they'd repeal those laws. It's hypocrisy for the government to deny homosexuals the right to be "married" in a civil ceremony . . . of course, nobody would THINK of interfering with Las Vegas' legalized brothels because--you guessed it--that's MONEY. PROFIT. Now, i don't think the Church should let itself be influenced by what the state does, one way or the other. First of all, the Separation of Church and State is healty for the Church, and for the government to try to demand that the Church allow such ceremonies infringes upon the Constitution. So, stop clamining that the "sanctity of marriage" is what you're really concerned with. It's just another holier-than-thou scheme, putting yourself on a higher level than other humans, acting like you don't or haven't sinned in ways that are just as wrong. If a man sleeps around with another man's wife, it's a small scandal; if he sleeps around with another man, that's a big scandal, but THEY ARE BOTH THE SAME SIN. Adultery is adultery. Now, as to the right to life, i DO NOT support abortion as a method of birth control. There are plenty of methods of protection, the best of wish is abstinence, to avoid creating a new life. If you ARE pregnant, carry the baby to term . . . because there are plenty of families out there who are willing, in fact EAGER, to adopt a baby. BUT: i don't believe that it's the right of the state to forbid it. In function, this works much like the Prohibition. The Prohibition did not stop drinkers from drinking . . . in fact, it just opened the door for organized crime, and resulted in more calamity. If you prohibit abortion, you open the door for free-lance abortionists, and women who want to get an abortion will do it somehow . . . there are records of women dying because they attempted to give themselves abortions using broken bottles stuck on the ends of broomsticks. If abortion is murder, it's on them . . . creating convoluted laws to make it illegal will only increase the prison poplulation, and as Charles Dickens observed, "in the courts, nobody wins but the lawyers."

There are plenty of other issues i could comment on, but my fingers are growing numb. Probably, i'll continue this in another chapter, as new ideas come to mind. Now, given the preceding paragraphs, there is no political party in the world that would have me as a member, and running as an independent is like painting a target on yourself for both Democrats and Republicans to take cheap-shots at. I'm better off remaining a poet, successful or non-successful, because poetry--thus far--has been the only vehicle that is capable of supporting my emotional storms. Everybody expects poets to be a little weird, anyway, and in that department i'm quite capable. I am as vocal a supporter of Freedom of Speech as the Right to Bear Arms, and in my case they're both the same thing. I have a hard enough time controlling myself, let alone guiding a city, state, county, or nation. I've got my hands full . . . i wouldn't want to burden others or myself with a position where i'd be attacked on all sides, both with pressures to conform and pressures to resist.

Enough said.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

New Poem: Beyond the Edge of the Chessboard

Beyond the Edge of the Chessboard
***
don't worry. be happy.
the politicians pharamceutical companies
bankers lawyers doctors
various NWO conspiracies
religious fakers
media whores
telephone name-takers
advertising CEO's
have got a PLAN for you.

they're not necessarily in collusion
but they're all selling variations of the same illusion
and, despite the apparently conflicting world-view solutions,
the resolution is always about
GREED.

gimme dat, gimme dat, gimme gimme gimme dat
MONEY.
whole lotsa
MONEY.

their quest for money seems funny
because in order to get it, they need to be phoney
because the reality of their ghoulish greed
even frightens them.
they have the best
drugs
cars
wars
bars
and various other ways of disguising themselves
and like all liars, are skilled at lying to themselves
to avoid the truth of six feet of dirt
all the land they'll ever really need
to hide their remains
until rot and decay
reveal humanity's true face
unmasked.

and, unlikely as it is,
they've sold these masks to us
telling us
don't worry, be happy
because happy faces sell products
happy faces make the malls more inviting
happy faces on the drug commercials
make you wonder what you're missing
if you don't take that blue pill
that gives you a 3-hour erection
blood rushing to a place
where (at least in the male body) it tends to remain
at the deficit of the brain.

What? You're not HAPPY?
You didn't buy the latest product?
You didn't read the Wall Street Journal?
You didn't give envy run of the house
so that you can get one-up on your neighbor
and own a bigger plasma TV, bigger SUV,
bigger ass from eating bigger burgers?
what are you, some kind of
intelligent, self-aware, thinking creature?
how EMBARRASSING.

And, here's a guy in the White House
who's been promising change,
but it's not likely to add any change to your pockets
while he's riding around in jets and limousines
and spending thousands on an inaugural ball
just like his predecessor, only more media-friendly
and a lot more articulate.
and look at all these glossy flyers
submitted to each post office box
by the latest political candidates
who seem to enjoy flinging poop at each other
like monkeys in the zoo
only, there's no bars around these animals,
so some of the shit's likely to land on you.

don't worry, be happy,
even when 2012 looms on the Mayan Calendar,
and even if it isn't the end of the world
all those wealthy men
will find a way to make the doomsday trend
line their pockets once again
(remember Y2K?)

don't be happy. worry.
we've let these idiots play the tune too long
it's the same old song they've played
since they nailed God's Son to a tree,
and they've even taken that piece of history
and used it for their own purposes
and if you buy into the lie, sucker,
YOU'VE been played.
you're just a pawn on the chessboard
allowed to move in tightly restricted lines
and if they need to sacrifice you
to protect their king and queen,
they won't hesitate . . .
step outside the lines
demand their attention
remind them that we outnumber them
and let them know what it's like
to WORRY.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

New Poem: Know the Refrain

Know the Refrain
***
it's like howling at the moon, and hearing it howl back
it's like watching the trees move in the breeze,
and feeling your veins do the same thing
it's like being tested by fire a hundred times
until only a core of diamonds remains
it's like listening to the same song a hundred times
just to hear the refrain

you wonder if you missed the train
reaching for a grip that slips out of your grasp
nothing but a gasp between you and forever
a well you're falling into
and something in the night calls your name
a phone ringing at midnight
with bad news breathing down your neck
a wreck of something you might have been
and you'll never build anything from the ruins
that won't fall down again
ashes, ashes, we all
fall down.

you can make your home look like a picture in a magazine
you can stake all your hopes on the American dream
you can break a thousand hearts looking for the right one
you can take from everybody you meet and not gain a thing.

something's missing.
meter, rhythm, rhyme
cadence and design
pages full of words that--
distilled into their purest form--
only repeat
LISTEN.
PLEASE LISTEN.
ARE YOU LISTENING?

Jesus saw us as sheep
and they nailed Him to a cross.
Paul called us idiots
and they locked him in a prison.
Socrates drank a poison cup
because he woke too many dreamers up.
Martin and Malcolm took a bullet
that was fired by 200 years of hate.

You're more likely to die for doing the right thing
and more likely to earn a profit for doing the wrong thing
and there's all these things laying around
radioactive, poisonous, dangerous
littering the ground we call history
but it's nobody's story but our own.
You wrote it.
I wrote it.
Worse yet, we let people we hardly knew
write it for us,
and our silence gave them consent
as long as we were kept content.

You've listen to this same song a hundred times . . .
i think by now
you know the refrain.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

From the 2 Train Journals: Pursuit/Elusion

the nature of this mystery i pursue
makes me wonder who's stalking who
rakish basilisk basking naked
adjacent to the azaleas,
brazen and emblazoned with
razored blades arranged
like blossoms that could be eyes;
this whole synthesis could paralyze
any system of allegory
that endeavored to tell its story.
fearful distances render feral dances
into microcosmic storms, atoms and
mad planets translate eternity into
something the senses can almost grasp,
grappling with the vatic beast
that sinks its teeth into my heart
and turns back into the night
with a scrap of me caught in its jaws.
it will not bear the locks and bars
of language's cages, passing
through my fogged glass like a whisper,
like a ghost, like smoke.
sleep eludes those who pursue
this dream that walks awake among us,
stung with wonder, sudnered
as if by thunders paws rending me into surrender
until hunger pains only remain
to entice me to chase it again.
beds and friends alike have fled
before the sligthest glimmer of it
in the eyes of those who've seen it--
it forces me to translate the oracular
by embracing the vernacular
without having an incestuous relationship with it;
and no matter how i make the verbs cavort
and nouns contort, the right words
forever elude my cages . . .
all i can do is show you
the holes it's torn in my soul,
and say,
"it's shaped sort of like this . . . ."

Monday, October 5, 2009

Feverish Rambling, Blogsprawl, and Dream-Journal #3: The Cacodaemon

Felt on-and-off feverish for the past 24 hours or so. I finally weakened and took some aspirin, along with some goldenseal, just in case there's something in my system that needs to get purged. I don't know if it hurts or helps that i'm drinking Mountain Dew Voltage, but maybe the ginseng and caffiene will help rush the aspirin and goldenseal on its way. Either that, or it'll make having a fever slightly more entertaining.

I'm also having a case of "blogsprawl." I still have some passages that i want to mine out of my Myspace blog, which i don't post in anymore. Now i have a poem that i've posted in Facebook, because i recently discovered the "notes" tab where i can post more than a few lines at a time. Not that anybody's more likely to read my Facebook than they are this rambling diatribe, but i like to spread myself as broadly as possible in the internet. I had a Livejournal at one time, long ago, but most of that was cannabis-induced raving or just general ranting, or a combination of both.

I also need to post the dream i had last night. Like i said, they're becoming more vivid, either because i'm now making the conscious effort to remember them, or because i haven't written much poetry lately and the creative process tends to "spill over," or both. Anyway . . .
***
In this dream, i'm walking along a road in some mostly rural area . . . it reminds me of pictures i've seen of India, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, etc. There's a crowd of people ahead, dressed in various styles, apparently mourning a man who is laying on a raised concrete platform. Two other men are at a shrine at one end of the platform, cutting themselves and splashing their blood all over the corpse and the shrine. I understand that this is some kind of rite to try to raise the dead. The two men who have cut themselves have almost eviscerated themselves, and staggered away from the platform. The dead man begins to rise up, and a woman . . . perhaps a wife or mother, i'm not sure . . . runs over and says, "You've returned to me, _____" (The blank is the man's name, which i cannot remember). The man laughs in a horrible voice, and says, "_____ is DEAD!" I then understand that a demon has inhabited this corpse, and now staggers almost drunkenly, with a horrible leering smile on his face, to a corral where there is a small bull-like creature. He stands and lets the creature attack him, goring him . . . and then the bull's face distorts, and i realize that the demon has gone from the body of the man to inhabit the bull . . . the creature runs out of the corral, and i am suddenly afraid to meet it's gaze, or draw it's attention in any way . . .but it sees me and runs over to me, not goring me but rubbing up against me. I am repulsed by this, and i cry out, "I bind and rebuke you in the name of Christ! I cast you into the Abyss on that Authority!" The bull then seems to crumple, and then fades out completely. None of the people who are around appear to notice either me or the bull's bizarre behavior and disappearance, but i'm overwhelmed with a sense of relief as if from some tragedy barely avoided. At that point i awaken.
***

I think i know what it was.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Poem: Untitled 10/03/09

Untitled: 10/03/09
***
to bend the untiring ear that listens,
you want to stand in the wind and scream silently,
mouth open as if
you would swallow the moon whole
and become something for coyotes to sing about.
why mourn the loss of things you never had;
when opportunity knocks, only to apologize
that it's mistaken your door for someone
more important, more deserving,
and wouldn't you feel better giving them a handout
like dharma-bum wannabes
who live their entire lives
in a state of mind
that they call "Zen," but is as easily achieved
by pharmaceutical accidents and moldy cheese?
something like a fever crawls just
below your eyebrows, behind your eyes,
an animal thing that crept down
from the aurora borealis
to lay its eggs in your frontal lobe.
when the temperate rainforest changes its garb,
trees shedding green for scarlets and yellows
that burn away so rapidly,
and you hate the sight of clocks
and feel the eyes of something stalking you,
as it eyes that connection between brain and spine
where the animal and the archetype meet . . .
that thing might be a poem with a dagger in its teeth,
or the last breath, last drink, last cigarette, last
sharp inhalation of breath for a scream
you'll never give birth to.
it doesn't matter. the impossible never happens
when you're waiting for it.
there's no recliner in which to view apocalypse,
and CNN isn't going to bring you hourly updates
on the burning of human souls
as you reach for the remote to switch
to a more comfortable channel.
consumers are a commodity, just something else
that is ultimately consumed.
autumn is here, the children locked in schools,
men and women locked in jobs
where fake fall foliage is decking their stalls,
a failed attempt at levity in a place
where the counting of heavy metals
only increases the gravity,
and the moon is getting closer every night,
but the coyotes are blind
and only the poets can howl.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Dream Journal #2: The Mephit

In this dream, i am in a place that appears much like our family's camp on the Greenbrier River. Throughout the dream, there is a child's voice, narrating the events as i experience them. I am vaguely aware that there are other people in the campsite, but i neither see nor encounter them directly. There is a creature that i first identify as a skunk, loose in the room. I try to get it to leave by throwing various objects at it, but it isn't deterred by this. As it moves about, it seems to become more intelligent, somewhat anthropomorphic. It begins moving various objects in the room, tilting pictures sideways, disarranging various knick-knacks, and otherwise "messing things up." I was distressed by this for reasons unknown. The creature moves into another room, apparently intending to further it's mischief, when i hear the child's voice talking about the creature, saying, "But he didn't know about the _____ upstairs that was going to stop him." (The blank represents a word that i don't know). At that point, i hear a sound from the attic space. It seems to be a mixture of an eagle's cry, and owl's call, and a woman's scream. It is frightening because i don't know the source, but i also understand that it means to harm the creature and not me. At that point, i awaken.