All For More (Or Less)

I know what it means to want more.
And yes, I know what it means to want more and settle for less. Only, I don’t ever want to settle again. Not now. Not ever.
No, I am here for a reason.

I have not come here to resign or make some kind of tearful confession.
I have confessed my sins enough and I have done this to a power of the highest authority. Therefore, no judge or gavel can condemn me.

I know who I am. I know myself very well, in fact, because I have always been me.
Even when I was trying to be someone else.
I was still me.
No matter what.

I know why I am crazy.
I know that I am crazy because I will go back at it again and take my chances in the field. I will run for the fence, despite the guards who threaten me.
I will take them in the open fields, even if the gunners from the towers look to shoot me at the heels.
Even if they look to cripple me, or keep me meek.
I promise you this –
No matter what, not even death can keep me from this mission.

I know what it means to look around and feel that child-like feeling or that angst or excitement. I know what it means to want to rebel or stand up and say, “To hell, you say!” I know the justice and the glory in defying the predictions that say we are less-than or useless.
No one can stop me now.

I think of this.
I think about the sounds I have heard or the sights I have seen. None of these things can be taken away.
I think about the beautiful things I have experienced, which I use to my advantage when I am stuck someplace or hearing something unwanted.
I know why we get hooked on music.
I know that even Lucifer uses this to keep us hooked, or ear-wormed, as the saying goes.
Whereas:
There are songs from my past and songs from my youth that can come on, randomly, and act like a spark that triggers the flame of our memory.

I remember the anthems of my youth.
I remember the music and the lust and fire inside of me.
Sure I do.

I am not so old that I have forgotten what it means to be young. I am not so young anymore that I fail to recognize that time is moving faster than we think.
Therefore, I have to make my plan now and look to execute my escape before I lose sunlight again. I have to pull off my trick before the nighttime guards come for their headcounts.
I have to script this perfectly. If I am to pull this off, that is.

This is my jailbreak. . .

I have lived a life which has seen the world through misled eyes. I have gone and run and come back in a full circle. I have fallen and risen and slept and woke more times than I can think.
I am here. Yes. Here.
Of course, I am because where else would I be?
Where else would you be, if not here?

I see the world now, yet I see things differently than while I was younger. Then again, maybe I saw things better when I was younger. Or maybe I was older when I was younger, if that makes any sense.
Maybe I was too skeptical or too cynical.
Or maybe I woke up and realized that time is running out and life in prison is always going to be life in prison. So, effectively, I want out.
Like, now!
I am not the same as I was when I was younger. I am older and younger in a different regard.
I have somehow reversed the polarities and my drive to create my new life is nothing other than my desire to recreate my life in total.

Blessed Father,
Please, let me get this straight. . . .

Is there a fountain of youth? Or is there just an awareness that youth is fleeting and short, to which I say yes. The hours are gaining, and time keeps ticking.

Every second counts.
Everything counts.
Me. You.
This.
All of this counts.

And ah, the little things.
Ah, the small things that we tend to overlook.
Ah, the tiny moments when we see or smell something and somehow, we cross a line or reach a level and old memories surface like a much-needed breath.

Behold this.
Love this.
Learn from this.
Be mindful of this because time is far more precious than we think — and even when we think we know or even if we think we understand the value of time, a moment comes up, a loss, or someone goes away, and life goes stern to teach us once more.
“Open your eyes, there’s an entire life ahead of you.”

Please, don’t miss out.

I have never seen much more than what I find in my circle of influence. I have never seen too much of this world. However, I have seen places and things, and I have met people. I have seen the value of an unforgettable smile, which is why I want to hold this (and you) as tightly as I can.

Never let this go.
I promise myself.

I have a few questions which are simple, yet there are more answers to this question as our life unfolds.
And hence, yes it is.
My life is unfolding.
Or is this just another moment of awareness?
I wonder.

Here are my questions –
What does it mean to be alive?
What does it mean to live?
How do we know the difference if we fail to reach or grab for this?
What happens when we allow our life to be deferred and we happens when we fail to speak up or live out loud?
What is the point of living if we are limited and we never try to live as wild or as best as we can?

I say this because anything other than this is not living.
No, this is just existing.
I can hear people at night who live in the adjacent cells. I hear them crying in the cages down the cellblock.
I hear grown men who whimper and plead with their gods or their gods as they understand them, and I say “AH-HA!”

Everyone wants the glory. Everyone wants the feel of heaven but no one wants to risk the work or the efforts it takes to grace the doorsteps.
Everyone wants paradise but they trick and they trade themselves because they’re afraid that their tickets will not be valid when they reach the pearly gates.
Life is short.
Death is far longer.
So, then?
What are we doing?
The truth is, I don’t know.

However –
The beast is always willing to make a deal. He does this because greed and pride and selfish, self-centered living are always looking to pull a trick and cut the corners. Everyone is fast to take the deal.
Until, of course, they find themselves humbled, as if it’s their turn to die.
I swear, have you ever gone out to dinner with someone and they’re no where to be found when the bill comes?
Ever see anyone with arms too short to reach their pockets when they have to tip the wait staff?
Everyone loves a free meal.
But rest assured, nothing is free, especially if it has value.

Everyone turns to God when all else is hopeless.
Everyone finds God in prison. But prison is all around us.
The county jail is a small place and the world is huge. There are prisons that are far larger than the eye can see — and too, there are bars which are invisible, and these are the bars that limit the mind or imprison our soul.

I hear people talk about the powers that be
I hear people talking about the government too . . .
I always here people say, “They don’t want you to know these things.”
Or people use “them” or “they” as if to be this vague description of some altered beast, just like the devil, as if “they” or “them” can fly beneath the radar, unseen, or slither like the serpent and tell us lies about the truth.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, kid.”
I was told this long ago.
“Don’t believe what you read either.”
I was told this too.
“Only believe half of what you see.”
I was told too but what I see can be deceived by my own misperceptions.
I know because I have been fooled before.
I’ve been deceived and I have been the victim to the deception of my own perception.
I can see this now.

It’s time to break free.
I have heard other inmates tell me about their pipe dreams. I have listened to them tell me about what they want to do. And I have seen many catch a break and I watched them go free.
I’ve seen people beat the crime, just to come back to the same prison cell, or if anything, they moved down to another cellblock, two tiers over and three cells down, to the right.

To hell with this place.
To hell with the sentences and the appeals and to hell with the injustice of our interpersonal justice system.
I say this because while I am only an inmate on a figurative level; I am a fugitive as well.
I am a fugitive in a figurative sense.
I am on the run.
However, I have shown up here to face you all.
I am here to see the jury of my peers. I am here to face the fire.
I can take the heat. I can take the accusations too.
After all, they’re just words with barbed wire, smeared with horseshit, or buffalo shit, to cause an infection and leave a stink.

I have no names for anyone and I am not here to rat or snitch, or throw someone else under the bus.
I am not going to throw someone into the fire, just because it feels a little too cold for me

I’ve been cold before.
I’ve been frostbitten too.
(Until you came along)

When there is no one left to blame, then there is no more room left to retreat.
So?
Now is the time.

I don’t know the hour, or the day.
I know that I am told that no one knows the hour, or the day.
Not the Angels in Heaven. Not even The Son.
Only the Father knows, is what I’m told.

However, there is a list of those who went by their own hand.
They knew the hour and the day.
There are those who were sentenced to death.
Some might have repented, like St. Dismas, and found themselves in paradise.
Some might be rotting in hell.
And some might be here, with us, here in Purgatory.
But me, I don’t know what paradise is.

I don’t know what comes next.
I know it’s raining in Purgatory and New York City is gray for the time being.

Today, I start my training.
Either I dig, climb the fence, break through walls, or I do my time and make my appeal.
There is no negotiation or substitution.

But no matter what and no matter how, I promise to get out of here.
No matter what it takes.
No matter what the judge or the prosecutors say and no matter how many accusers accuse me, I swear to God.
I will set myself free.

By the way,
I heard the song by Van Morrison this morning.
I heard this come on in my head.

Into The Mystic . . .
“Smell the sea and feel the sky,” he sung.
“Let your soul and spirit fly . . .
. . . into the mystic”

I swear, this must be what love feels like.
At least, it is to me
(you know?)
All the more reason for me to get out of here.
Like. Now . . .
or as fast as I can.