Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Meisha

04 August 2014 4:45 PM

I trekked back with relief, that I found my vehicle… right where I left. Maybe that ends my chronic “losing my vehicle” nightmares. But maybe new ones will evolve after near seven hours of tramping on the blood drenched soil of heroic Texas revolutionaries.

Back on the road again and just miles from Kerrville, Texas as my anxiety builds. Will she be there, at that Rest Stop, where I left her four years earlier. Over 4000 kilometres I drove with this torment in mind. What would I do, how could I help her now, as I am in no better financial position today then when we shared our last meal together, hugged, with tears filling my eyes, saying goodbye and promised I would be back, with some more money and a better vehicle? Pulling in, up to that picnic table (a misnomer … it was no picnic) the memories flowed back. As I anticipated and regretfully wished… she was not there. But, I will stay here for the night. Who knows what will become of it.

Meisha was a Federalist revolutionary, as those of the Alamo… fighting the Centralists of modernity knowing quite well the potential outcome on the highways of Liberty:


“If we succeed, the Country is ours. It is immense in extent. And fertile in its soil and will amply reward all our toils. If we fail, death in the cause of liberty and humanity is not cause for shuttering… we know what awaits us, and are prepared to meet it” Daniel Cloud, 1835.

The side entrance into the Alamo brought me directly into the retail shop, filled with unlimited shelves packed with commercial “goodies“. Everything was for sale. My anticipation soured immediately… good ol’ American enterprise… like selling worthless, imitation trinkets to the Aborigines… cleverly retooling modern ignorance. Nothing was for free there, except a one 8-½” x 11” b/w page with minimal text. And that shop was packed full of modern ghosts, tripping over one another for another precious treasure to joyfully take back to their tribe. No!!! Right!!! I bought nothing!



Exiting out of there onto another pathway, I was led to some original walls of the Alamo… fascinating.






 
Then unto some small panels of historical facts that gave me a satisfying glimpse of the history of the Alamo and the Mr.Scratch, back to 1724... thrilling… after about four plus hours of reading, I understood…the Texas Revolution… this was not a Hollywood movie… it was finally clear to me and fully justified my reason for going there. In the entire long list of the heroes, not one heroine was mentioned. Was that possible! Was not even one heroine put against the wall and shot along with the surviving heroes in 1836.
 I must return to Galveston, as on that last final fatal day with Meisha, four years ago, to that magnificent 20 foot high grand bronze sculpture in the centre of town. It is a sculpture honouring the flag draped heroines of the Texas Revolution, which I did not understand at that time. This time, I will re-view it with a new found reverence and adulation. That (or those) photos I will send to you in a few weeks, on my return from the “Q” (Albuquerque).

Meisha was/is a revolutionary and I curse the Centralists forces that have abandoned her to the highways… I am holding my “cuss-words” back… not my customary, pejorative nature. But the Centrist forces are re-emerging in the lands, defying the spilt blood and political victories of the Texas Federalists, Sam Houston, Davy Crocket, William Barret, James Bowie, James Bonham and the other heroes (will name the Federalist heroines after I get back to Galveston).

My nature is to cuss but, the Centralists control the media and consequently our minds. Even here at this Texan Rest Stop, along with the previous ones, as I entered this state… WiFi was cut off. The Texas map says Free WiFi at all Rest Stops… not so! The attendants do not know why. Too many revolutionaries… perhaps? No worry, I will keep my cuss words for the underground… to those in-person, activist venues who might invite me in with my colourful tongue, art, music, poetry.

Meisha and I had the cussing out on the highways for two weeks, from Corpus Christi to Galveston, as we tried to re-enable her blank memory and find her home. She revealed a highway of horrors, her story of living in her own Alamo, under siege by a ruthless oppressor.



Life on a Wire



This Song: I wrote in Memory of her... her words.


LOST HIGHWAY USA

Shes a doctor, a lawyer, Israeli commander

A professor, scientist, secret service agent

With under cover missions locked in her mind

Shes been eight years on the highways waiting

For that day when HE will come for her

And HE will come for her in two years
 
 

She lives on the chains of highways

On this cold hard land of yours and mine

From California to the Atlantic shore

She cannot find her way home any more

Her name is
 
 
 
Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein





Shes been locked up, knocked up, chopped up

Shes been spit on, slapped on, hit on

Shes been needled, drugged, poked, and joked about

And dropped on the highways without ID

With her face and memory reconfigured away

Left alone in this land of yours and mine.
 
 
We travelled together on the asphalt lines

Houston, Corpus Christi, Pasadena

Indianola, Magnolia, Matagorda, Jamaica Beach

Texas City, Palacios, the Bayou Vista

Skidmore, Geronimo, Buckeye, Galveston

looking for a place to finally call her home
 
 

She lives on the chains of highways

On this cold hard land of yours and mine

From California to the Atlantic shore

She cannot find her way home any more

Her name is
 
 
 
Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein



We shopped in thrift stores, ate beans and peaches

We camped on the Gulf Coast white beaches

She tidied and swept up to leave no trash

She did not want to mess up the earth

Wouldn’t throw her banana peel on the highway

She said, cars would slip on it made me laugh
 






She lives on the chains of highways

On this cold hard land of yours and mine

From California to the Atlantic shore

She cannot find her way home any more

Her name is
 
 
 
 
Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein





She thanked me for the time out on the coast

She threw handfuls of bread to the seagulls

She stood quiet on the dock watching the harbour go by

She said you are one of a kind (in my world)

But fate took me to leave her in her in that dangerous place

Lost Highway USA

With only a bench and the sky above to call home 


She lives on the chains of highways

On this cold hard land of yours and mine

From California to the Atlantic shore

She cannot find her way home any more

Her name is
 
 
 
 
Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein

Meisha ISRAEL MICAH Meikein














 

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