possessed

I fear there is a word, a concept, a thought that roots around like a boar in the forest. To possess. We all have an urge to possess. Maybe this is just Buddha thoughts echoing out of the other side of my mouth. I don't know. Perhaps I am possessed.

Artists are offenders. We want to possess an image that has touched us. An artist paints a landscape. Trees on a hillside, sun splashing through. Oh beauty for that second of recognition, let me catch it in my moment and suspend it in my oils. Captured for all time. Possessed. That's right. We say the artist is sharing beauty but that is ever so much bull, so much drivel. The artist tried to possess that moment and still tries to hold onto it. "See what I experienced!" Tough luck that you have to have me capture it so that you can possess it. Pay me now."

Word artists are the same. We take possession of our senses and serve them up on tarnished platters. Eat my words. I wrote them in a book so that I could possess them and have you meerlings pay me for my skill. But it is still just an act of possession.

We try with all of our might to capture and hold some moment as if we have some secret power.

When we have that first sweet suck on the teat of woman we want to possess. We spend our lives looking for the ultimate boob to possess and to succor. We want that sweet moment again and again. Some of us go further. We chant our spells to lure money or we wave our fingers in private parts to secure the love of another. We'll prostitute ourselves for homes and trips and clothes and fancy food. It all is just a hunt for the missing boob of life. Heck, we even possess others to pretend we have it. Kiss me now you beautiful whore.

Isn't that really what even erotic pictures are. Moments that were for a brief second what we are trying to hold onto or to take from someone else?

Everyone who experiences a tornado or a hurricane falls back on the captured image "it sounded like a freight train." Come on now! What did a tornado sound like in 1650? Pilgrim Bill stands on Plymouth Rock and say, "it sounded like a freight train." and all of the other Pilgrims and Indians look at him with quizical looks, "What the hell is a freight train?"

The same thing for some tantalizing frump in black stockings and a garter belt looking coyly at the camera. Who the heck first dressed like THAT and what Pope declared that a sexy look?

And it permeates our advertising and it permeates our religions and government. We all have secret touchstones that we see as signs of possession. What President would dare get on camera not wearing an American flag lapel pin? Who was the first one to wear one? Certainly not George Washington. "This silly thing? Why Betsy Ross gave it to me for my last order of flags. Told me to wear it in good health. I'd rather have my real teeth back."

I have a military pin that used to adorn my slouch hat. It has a latin saying on it. It translates to no fear. What a hoot. And surfers think they invented that slogan. No fear indeed. If we had no fear why the heck would we wear a pin to prove the point.

We all not only possess. Shhhhush. A secret. WE all want to be possessed. That's right boys and girls, you heard it here second hand. We all want to be possessed.

Don't think so? Next time yo want good health and take a pill or want wealth and scratch a lottery ticket, or wear a secret scent so that you can know good love, just remember... we all want to be possessed. And we do almost anything to succeed. Some of us even write empty-headed blogs.

G