WHO AM I?
Deserts
are dead lies where only those creatures who have adapted to living in lies
amid the dead and dying, can exist. And the deserts are growing. Just go to
California. Florida. Nevada. Mexico. Iraq. Saudi Arabia. Dubai. Afghanistan.
Sand Land.
Wherever
the sand is flowing the lies are blowing and attacking everything that lives
beyond the Sand Land. Lies like dust, billow around the Earth. The Sand Land
know this and have coped with clouds of dust and blowing sand forever. Deserts
are made up of lifeless lies that are blown into waving furrows and then blown
again and rearranged forever into patterns that mesmerize and move across the Earth.
Send
more troops, many more troops! Bomb them and bomb the rubble. The smoke and ash
of burning villages and trucks and bodies swirls with the dust and whips the
aroma of burning gasoline, the smell of TNT and burnt flesh up, up into a plume
that whirls around us.
A
road of ash undulates like a snake, black soot shading tan sand on the top edge
of furrows and is moved by the hot breath of an evil wind which sometimes
whispers and sometimes moans and sometimes groans.
WHY AM I
HERE?
We
are on the Ash Road of our Century. We are driving each other down an Ash Road
because of Truths and the ash of dead Truths are lies of Power, Greed and Fear.
Living Truths cannot be killed, and do not die, and cannot die. The lies billow
across the world leave dust in our mouths, an acrid taste and bitterness.
People
of our time, young men and women walk the Ash Road through the deserts of our
Century in order to experience this flattened space in the life of the world.
They return to their lives the experience of the worldwide wind which no one
controls; the shattering concussions of blasts from combatants; and the sights
and smells of death and destruction which will cloud their dream-visions like
the fine dust which coats the windows making it forever impossible to look
through their eyes without looking through the memory.
WHAT DO I
WANT?
We must be conscious of our fall. Our
lowering. The Katabasis.
Houses
built on shifting sand cannot stand. Politics built on gerrymandered
allegiances have no Democracy. We say a lot about killer terrorists and
refugees but say nothing about Afghani heroin. Which kills more?
When
our way of life falls because we are following Ash roads to Sand Lands and
economically tethered to blind Euro-Kings who put their eyes out so that they don’t
have to see the Truth. Will the Greek Chorus will run from the wings shouting “Kata
basis!”?
Our
companies are encouraged, even rewarded, to drive down an Ash Road deep into
the Sand Land of Mexico. Where is Pancho Villa to rebel against Yankee
domination? Will a Narco Welcome Wagon bring brown Mexican heroin comes
up the East Coast? Will the white dust made down south wind up in our gringo
mouths?
The
Western drought eases for an instant but the insatiable thirst of cities is on
the growing, unsustainable edge of sand. Sand is flowing and lies are
blowing.
When the only jobs left behind are low-paying or toxic will we FINALLY become
Job? After we fall all the way down, we must now suffer. We must sit quietly in
the sand and in the ashes and scrape off our sores and wait for the Living
Truth. It will come.
It always does.
© Copyright
2016, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights
Reserved
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