Fall Mountain Fall (when a 6 turns out to be 9)

I confess. I am listening to Hendrix right now – can you…listen too? I am sure you can…experience this, and not necessarily be stoned…I have been dry for 22 years and I can still listen…so make a picture of yourself listening…too.

We are the older ones aren’t we? Elders…supposedly smarter and we came out of an idealistic time, didn’t we? Children of war parents – baby boomer’s – we are the so and so’s – and so what. “Then” was a time when – well – when we were fortunate – well maybe not extremely fortunate – but fortunate still…we could believe in so much that was positive about our country. And we did. And we thought we were happy – and then civil rights and the war – not the great one, but a paltry lesser one opened our eyes. And little old ladies and big fat white men began to cry.

It was the sixties and both sides of that other war – the Asian one, remember the one we were going to win – the one we could not fail to win – the one we eventfully ran from – was being protested. Long hairs were being pulled in a fury… and then we fled Saigon, escaping like frightened puppies – yeah that war… It was then that some of us realized that our idealism had been usurped, that we had been gullible and lied too.

This is our America, my America.

“Excuse me while I kiss the sky” – that is something we can still do can’t we (kiss I mean?) We kissed better then though, didn’t we…? Yes we did indeed. In the sixties, even with the war and the riots and the assassinations and the memory of lynching’s we, no matter which side we were taking on any of these issues – both sides of us – still believed in an Idealized America. And this nation as a whole benefited from the unanimity of that belief…both sides had black and white positions true…but not super complex ones, it was easier then compared to today. It isn’t like that now…is it? Now, no one wants to loose or compromise…their vested positions.

Oooof. I mean fuck – damn – shit – there are too many sides competing for a limited amount of attention – the whole of the pie is being claimed by gluttons with berry stained faces – power share, what’s that?

This is our America, my America.

And Hendrix’s is now singing about a red house over yonder – one that use to have blue and white shutters – one that wanted to exist side by side with other houses – in the olden days before the ambition to be a stand alone house on the hill…burning.

This is our America, my America.

Breathy breath…steams into a cold night – a streetlight…someone shuffling, intent on searching; garbage cans…crack pipe jokes from passing pedestrians…music rolling like an unfolding thunder, other sounds, and a purple hazy light shakes star shatters from a bar of disinterested laughter.

This is our America, my America.

Shouts and staccato cascades of fist on foreign faces – kicks and knees jabbing hatred into the ribs of fagots; it don’t matter their only homos and beneath considerations or accommodations of dignity. A man emerging from a crowd of men speaking “Momma your breast are fine and your dress is tight – how did you know that’s the way I like it – that’s right, fight me – no harder, it pleases me more when I win over your strength and beauty with my ugly…perpetrations.

This is our America, my America.

All along the watchtower – Jimi, Me, You (maybe) – hoping that our eyes are, or may be mistaken, this isn’t happening is it? But it is…happening. If we turn our eyes away do the sordid details really disappear? That doesn’t appear to be so…that they disappear…they don’t seem to go away either – I wonder where you think they go?

Conservative estimates: over 100,000 dead, 2 million displaced, 10’s of thousands of new terrorist where few or none existed before, Turk incursion into northern Iraq pursuing Kurds, ( Jimi is now playing Freedom) well over 5 HUNDRED FUCKING Billion dollars spent for what? And we still don’t have an Osama…go figure, who knew that with that much money, you could not purchase one man…

This is our America, my America.

Oh, but no welfare, that cost too much money and no real health care policy – people who can not pay their own way are public tit dole suckers – wasted will people – fuck ups, and screw ups – let me interrupt your pornographic fascinations – it’s your broker calling, something about a sub-prime mortgage problem…banks are a little scared – seems some mistakes were made – lets see how does that work again mmmm….that’s right, some one at the Grey House calls some one at the fed, and money (paper money) gets ironed again…but that’s OK – that’s for the good of the country – Our Country.

This is our America, my America.

Wars good – soldiers in harms way to serve business agendas – that’s OK too – as long as we can make them feel supported (support is important after all), before you sleep tonight, see if you can count how many ways you personally have done that.

Torture interrogations? Well you know the enemy is the enemy and in a war one has got to do what one has got to do – but a woman – you do know what one of those are don’t you? Well let’s brand her a godless killer, when she doesn’t want to terrorize herself or a child by having one born into an unwanted circumstance – and if she does have a child and falls on hard times, lets call her a wasteful cheating welfare queen…or a slut.

This is our America, my America.

And the wind cries Mary…oh, but maybe you are a protestant and don’t really venerate Mary – there is only one God to worship isn’t there, and he is a he – divided by three, and you call yourselves Monotheists – shame on you for controlling my free speech when you can’t even control your own – the world you propose is crazy – cause your strategies are those of a people with multiple, multiple personality disorders.

This is our America, my America.

And it is a house divided not only against itself, but against the goals of its avowed and lawful foundations…and that makes for the worst kind of cross town traffic…listen – it’s the sound of money passing from one Judas hand to another gentler kinder form of conservative compassion.

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5 responses to “Fall Mountain Fall (when a 6 turns out to be 9)

  1. Great writing. The way each song has generated an associated idea which almost appears to have manifested the song. A great idea very well executed. By coincidence I was watching Jimi live at Woodstock just a couple of days ago and when he played (is it your National Anthem? Oh say can you see) and then it descends into the whirrrr, kaboom of bombs dropping and people screaming and then quiets into a melancholy version of the same melody, I heard Jimi’s genius quite clearly expressing in sound the same ideas you have expressed in this piece. Very cool.

  2. renaissanceguy

    Reminds me of Allen Ginsberg. Very good work, Poetman.

  3. gingatao – I like how you get this…how this creative free association of mine interplays as an act of two way communication between what Hendrix wrote 25yrs or so ago and what I wrote yesterday – everything has a possibility of influencing any other thing, as soon as a connection between the two is made…Thanks Dude…

    RG – Thank You – isn’t Ginsberg a poet to both love and hate – I know that I do…”Howl” – a masterpiece – to me the best poem of the 20th century…but the rest…well I just don’t know

  4. renaissanceguy

    I’ve read only a bit of Ginsberg. I like at least some of his shorter poems. It was “Howl” I was thinking of when I compared your poem to his.

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