Musings: The Odds Are Against Representative Democracy by LJ Frank

Credit: The Candlestick. 1911. Georges Braque. Artist

3:00 A.M. The words entered my mind like an unwanted Depression era telegram, the message was almost quaint in utterance like the words – this too shall pass, and vanity, vanity, all is vanity, and from the distorted mouth of a man cloaked in black cloth who bore witness to the solemnity of the occasion ~ perhaps there would be greater insight into meaning after the mind once enlightened by evidence would never be able to return to the dark again, yet, still it would happen – the oligarchy turned its head and drew caricatures on a piece of paper – and Proto-Fascism has a grin stretched across its face.

The mindful agenda of the politician with a Senator’s pin on his Republican lapel who knew and understood wins and losses, and effectiveness of extortion while the stock market existed for those of influence that have investments in calculating their wealth, the shrinking middle class was under the effect of a marketing scheme, caught in playing in their masters’ games and the true number of unemployed is rarely spoken of, the combustibility of poverty only takes a spark, for there was and is no higher court of reason, as the rulings of the Supreme Court appeared to undermine their own effectiveness as the court of final appeal, and justice remained in the hallway, and unless your wealthy it’s best not to have witnesses to the exchange of power now more volatile than ever;

Representative Democracy was a candlelight in the past now glorified by  influence peddlers who transfer money through dark channels, and fascism and racism were and are an easy stride inside the entrance to the inner chambers of thought, and power once established does not relinquish itself this side of death, and the politicians placed their hands on their constituents’ backs looking for the soft spot while acknowledging that cannibalism was the meal of the day, and the electoral college dined on true believers while the incorporated country was purchased for a few coins in the coffer and the environmental theologians offered a deified smile while passing around a basket for their parishioner’s tithings, until it was suggested that you don’t have to give something you don’t possess to achieve salvation, it’s really just matter of belief,  and no one has returned after death to reveal what salvation actually looks like;

And the halls of justice were and are no more, the sage’s words were and are digitally reformatted and what was truth became a big lie and that lie was something to live up to, for the web of deceit is n entangled story, relevant to mostly the storyteller and the lust for control over one’s fate, with the Grim Reaper lurking just around the corner – rationalizations and illusions overlap the postcard of life’s memories and the truth was and is misplaced for the sake of personal survival and the seduction of ambition and money being the final arbiter, and the trusting  heart finds itself a lonely seeker.