Musings: Writing in Exile by LJ Frank

I’m an independent liberal and intellectual libertine traveling across the landscape of the brain and the world, viewing from a mindful distance a functional monarchy called America that has now taken root, and I acknowledge the end of the Republic began at an inaugural in an actor’s voice that stated with slyness, ”Government is not the solution to our problem. Government is the problem,” and another “I” decade was upon us, a feel-good libertarian moment became a whore for the corporate world with winks, nods and witticisms marketed, the point taken to a corporate owned bank and a bloodless ethic draped the hollow Statue of Liberty;

 So I write for my own salvation, and in the middle of the day under the brightness of a clear sky I cross the border quietly noting the scars lining the hearts of those wearing fashionable suits and robes, power accumulated and riches poured into offshore accounts and a number of seniors in states of sunshine concerned only about the benefits reaped from their portfolio while other elders live on the edge of hunger just to see one more sunrise;

 Once I crossed the border I then ventured over a patch of blue waters fishing for an idea, realizing there are moments that a sea of sunshine is best served on an empty mind, for I recognize the soul exists not in where it dwells, but rather in where it loves, and I take note of the checks and balances missing in action for those whose pocketbooks are stuffed and so humor is my body’s reply, and I reason there is no escape capsule at death save the thought of being reborn in a more pleasurable form, knowing this thought too shall pass;

 My age…my mind… and my body are relative to my health, energy and attitude essential as is my breath and the passions of jealousy and envy are a wasteland of emotions, for pleasure is not as complex as it is…to write the word with meaning on a piece of paper in pen and ink;

And, I trek miles on beaches, looking at street art while writing and creating a new yoga pose or two, stopping to sip some house wine and eating some morsels of salmon and spinach, and indulge in an enchanting conversation over a single lit candle on a small table at an out of the way cafe…and I know “the smile at sunset is different than the smile in the morning” (Quote from book, Waiting for Margaux, a diary of an impious man by LJ Frank).