Postcards have been made of the circus and it’s parade that was recently in town and are being sold on the streets, which I observed with the girl from the north country fair on the balcony at the turning of twilight as the stars turned red, and we both looked out on the sea of madness which was like either a view of the abyss or a pitching queue to the gallows. As the circus parade’s leading edge began to arrive and slowly came down the avenue towards us heading to the plaza. It was led by its blind organizer and his friend and ally who was dressed in the black robes looking just like a jealous monk. Both having been blinded by rainbows of self delusion they both seek as well as their own flights of grandeur and ego,-
For they are not really caring about all that is going on around them and the changes that are taking place. As I turn to the girl from the north country fair who has her hands in her back pockets the way Bette Davis once did, and pointing out that the blind organizer and his companion dressed and looking like a jealous monk were once well known;for playing the electric violin years ago in many of the bars and saloons where jukeboxes now play the blues into the night. In an area that was once known as Desolation Row where that madman I once met would share his views and wisdom, as she tells me that this is not our fate and the organizer can’t accept the changes taking place outside his lack of vision, and like those he surrounds himself with who have no bearing on things happening and he seems to think of life as a joke, or simply as his pantomime or just merely a charade for the season.

It feels like there is too much confusion and voices aren’t heard by the organizer who seems to be too busy for all things, as all which he held sacred has been shattered and one promise I made to the one who truly knew me has been fulfilled. And it feels as if a rubber band has snapped and decisions have been made with no free fall feeling happening now. For no one will be level and meet upon the square except the one who is standing here with me watching all passing by, while false conversations are recalled by the blind organizer who is now holding the hand of his ally the jealous monk. And has assumed a title that he believes to be his and can control all around him with it and the help of his allies,-
Revisionist history seems to be the song both like to play and spare no thought other than what benefits them. Unaware the words they say have the power to bind them and all of us to either Heaven or to Hell and can hurt and maim, as the circus parade has finally passed by and has started to enter the plaza where the curtain will soon be going up. Where there is a midway side show where barkers direct some of the madness to what sights they deem worthy to be seen. Knowing the blind organizer seems to think I need the cure of Dr. Tarr and Prof. Phether to see all things from his viewpoint. While the girl from the north country fair has a glimpse of what can be from this watchtower in the form of a golden glance, and knows that Dylan was right about being despised and unrecognized by family and accepted for all by the Lord above.

As she turns and sees the red stars reflected in my eyes like a jungle burning bright as flames bloom within them, she sees the look in my eyes and knows I am counting as I pray to try hard to avoid exploding outward in a pattern, for she knows that I have been placed on the sidelines or out to pasture and at times relied on the kindness of strangers. And been to places the blind organizer and that jealous monk have never been, and she and others still back my play. Even when I didn’t have the will to carry on and battled illusions and felt as if I were left behind lost in a whirlpool of lies, which is something the blind organizer hasn’t bothered or cared to see or bothered to hear when voices were raised,-
Instead he chose to hear Mariachi static and never noticed the pretty people he associates with disappear. While he and the jealous monk will for the first time realize that they must toe that line as they enter those complicated shadows, and instead of hearing from those who have been and know what they speak of to be true about the darkness in those shadows.Though he and the jealous monk might think they are made of iron and steel but then again I never bent or broke in them, I also rose from the flames and shadows I was cast into and refused to please the crowds by turning my back to the bull. Knowing too as does the girl from the north country fair that logic and theory don’t apply and events bring out true colours. Also having the blind organizer and the jealous monk say they know me yet they don’t and never bothered to try.

Noticing the midway is closing as the doors to the theatre are opening as the swirling madness flows inside, with Mariachis leading the way to the show that is beginning he has put together and hopes for reviews and accolades, which the jealous monk hopes to have a share in and boost her own standing and to hopefully be his equal partner now. All are watching the film that shows those jesters from that dark courtyard in the North as photographers dance around. Recording the events for the postcards that will soon be made and sold of the events that transpire there,-
With the only sounds heard on the avenue are of the debris being swept up as the moon starts to hide, as calypso singers laugh at the blind organizer and that jealous monk while all those people file out of the theatre, and true to form all is attempted to be preserved as it once was and people are again ignored in favour of their favorites. While a six year old hisses like a cat as he acts like his father (the blind organizer), and being cast in his image ignoring all. As I feel the girl from the north country tug my sleeve me and hear her say your above all this and risen from the depths, and informs me it’s time to wear medals again and be proud of what I have accomplished as the end of the line is in sight.

Hearing her say that it’s time for her and I to make tracks and go see another English sunset as we ride across the range, and being like a pair of long riders heading away from this sad decay and feel the rhythm of earth in us keeping faith and hope alive. Heading where the Tao directs us as we take in all day by day doing what we can do to make them wait to hold a requiem. Taking with us that joker who still has a mix of fire and ice in his eyes when concepts collided one night as the stars go blue. Knowing that we can beat them as we pass through the burning vacuum of their eyes as they stare and hear them shout, as we begin that midnight ride across the dark range on horses that seem to be made of steel.

Copyright November 2009 – 28: Timberwolf International LTD.