There may be an only moment, but there’s very few folks in focus; not the first, not the last, and certainly not the least. As I remembered what the Madman once asked me: “Son, tell me as a friend, what’s in a name?” One night in one of those many bars and saloons where the jukebox plays the blues in the night, where the peasant sits crying in his wine, and if you look around you can see they are all giving time like in Kafka’s The Trial. After having been tried and convicted for crimes and misdemeanors that have and never will ever be clearly defined. As some look in my eyes and see that in a lot of cases there is nothing left to lose, making me an unknown quantity like the joker in the deck or like Dylan’s Jack of Hearts, being a catalyst for change, or the most dangerous thing.

I might seem like I am lost in a dream and only wanting tomorrow to be better than today, and trying to find the answers to all the questions that have been asked. Feeling those open doors there in those smoky fires of memory releasing their shreds of memories that come to the surface at times unbidden. But, still there are those doors that have remained locked down with no foreseen reason for them to be opened and allowing what they contain to be released as there has been no reason to in the past and has me leery of what havoc they might wreak on all that has been fought and worked for so hard.

I know there are those times when I have done wrong and have a need to know now, if I was a fool or not to fight back against those demons with all the strength I found I had there at my fingertips? Some things are unforgivable, and have had at times demons ruling the worst of me. Yet, somehow there were angels who watched over me and defeated them in some way. And has me wondering if they still are there and should I be able to go through it all again and in the process this time maybe losing my very soul. Then again back then things were easier and not so strange like they are now, with these strange days having caught up and found us.

Still there are times when I seem to be labeled as either mad or bad especially when things seem to turn bad, and am damned for having intentions being misunderstood. But, then again no one knows of the regret I have felt when plans have gone awry, and then it seems as though the Hangman is then coming down from the gallows for me. Still there are those times when I go to extremes and have carried the title of both; joker, and fool. And right now lately I have been totally cool and feel as sharp as a knife, with there being times when I don’t know how much more I have in me. Out of the darkness and into the light with me occasionally leaving the scene of a crime, yet still eager to please and ready to fight for what I think is right or believe in.

Changing the game, they play is like changing the words to a favorite song, by stepping in the rhyme once and then the song is gone or has become something totally unrecognizable from what it was a few seconds before. Still I have those who hope I stare in the mirror and begin to cry over the image that’s seen there in that mirror on the shelf and then to say goodbye to me. For they believe that all men must fall, and still any day now maybe release or relief will be found.

I seem to be a question to those critics I have that can’t be answered, and it’s doubtful that they truly understand anything and have never been on the harder or meaner side of life, as well stood alone. And I see all those things they never see and know that they can’t break me for I am real, and I have been at times able to reinvent myself, and they all stay the same and never believe there is another world that can chew them up and spit them out, just like the darkness in those complicated shadows are darker than they wouldn’t believe and have the power to break iron and bend steel. From which I have emerged from once or twice, and having been changed by them.

Though I carry those scars I have like souvenirs, that the sun’s dark light couldn’t or wouldn’t heal reminding me of all I have been through and that some of it shouldn’t be forgotten. And still I wonder if I should believe the lines on my hands to again open my heart and accept the hardest parts once again? And as I continue to make my way down the line passing all the painted faces and the places I don’t care to reach up high for, as I continue on undercover here on the street in that place that has bred those like me and the true poets and the beats that they don’t bother to notice them and those like me. And to him, her, and them I bid a fare thee well and not give a damn. So I’ll try to take it slow and try to let go once in a while, and try not to let the good times pass me by and grab all I can and sing my rock battle cry and be free to roam. And not be mad as a hatter and being on the run and just ask for a bottom-line is to be given life, and roll on down the line.

Carrying with me hope forever along with dreams I can follow that lead to a new tomorrow, and to those I know and maybe one day will wish a fond adieu, I leave them this to warn them and to follow before I do pass on my way to where-ever this long strange trip takes me: Stay free from petty jealousies, live by no man’s code but your own, and hold your judgment for yourself. For if not careful what Matthew wrote could be the result of not holding your own judgment: Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you (Matthew 7:1-2).

Copyright: Timberwolf International LTD. May 2016 – 27