SOME PEOPLE.
Some people long for Spring,
and dream of assuaging the
bitter sores of Winter’s
darkness and solitude with
woodland walks and premature
sojourns to outdoor cafes.
And some people visualize
this year’s perfect garden,
an unusually colorful
palette of vibrant flora
exploding with hopefulness
and lust for living.
Or rather plan exotic
Summer vacations, June
weddings and cozy, social
outings with friends and
loved ones on traditional
holidays in April and May.
But others, like me, spend
year-long winters cuddled up in
blankets next to the fireplace,
reading about “some people”
in novels and romance magazines —
with utmost preoccupation.
Photo by Azsacra Zarathustra
Having grown up in the ‘50s and ‘60s, having met several famous actors. authors and artists, very wealthy persons and high-level politicians, and even having had Hollywood celebrities as neighbors in Los Angeles, I had cultivated a sense of awe and respect for such persons — until I became obsessed with my own celebrity. After some years of being recognized after many appearances on tv, radio, in newspapers etc., and some harrassment, I grew tired of my and others’ fascination with my and their fame. I am also much more aware of how greed and passion for power and money corrupt us and open many of us to destructive addictions and behavior. Now that time has revealed many secrets about the rich and famous idols of my younger years, I feel like an old man observing the lies served and lived throughout my lifetime. It is indeed sobering.
QUOTE.
“We know that they are lying, they know that they are lying, they even know that we know they are lying, we also know that they know we know they are lying too, they of course know that we certainly know they know we know they are lying too as well, but they are still lying. In our country, the lie has become not just moral category, but the pillar industry of this country.”
— Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
Truth is a whore.
Surely, Truth is a whore in ambush;
scenting the trail of the seeker
with anticipation and illusion.
Quite unashamedly,
she splays her loins to reveal
treasures of Self-discovery
to the passionate.
Feasting ravenously upon the carnage
of words and revelations,
the believer plunders the Bitch
with lustful satisfaction.
Ah, but how content he is to
finally conquer Truth.
For now that she has been impregnated
by Judgment, he may possess
ignorance more completely yet.
— Adam Donaldson Powell
from “Notes of a Madman”, 1987; and “Collected poems and stories”, 2005.)
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