The Joker’s Beef: a monologue

[inspired by Bob Dylan’s poem “All Along the Watchtower”…]

[spoke the joker]— look me in the teeth, thief,

and tell me what you see in my grin—when i’m not laughing.

[and the thief said] —joker, you should try your hand at poker

cuz what i see is two stubborn eyes

and a set of lips twice the size of the god-given…and i’m not one for kiddin’…

[spoke the joker]—if life was like a deck of cards then i was dealt a damned hand—see, thief, 

i dug deep into my own dark heart and  finally found something made of gold

only i didn’t know was that god himself was watching and he saw my hand and stole it

—the goddamn sadist bought my luck and sold it

and there, by the grace of god, goes what was good of the joker’s hand…

[and the thief said]—come, my man, i understand—

but you and i, we’ve been through this before and that is not our fate

so let’s stop talking falsely now, the hour’s getting late…

there must be some kinda way outta here—said the joker to the thief

there is so much goddamn confusion—i just can’t get no relief

there’s so much misusin’—wise crackers and white bastards abusin’ my charity

drinkin’ up my wine like “hey, honey, its fine,—i think them gods musta left it for me’.

no need to get excited, the thief he kindly spoke—there are some here among us

who feel that life is but a joke…

i wanna see it via that point of view, thief—you know how i do love a joke

but life is lookin’ bleak, thief, and the beef, they is hopin’ that i wont

and i need my piece of peace, thief, the joker sadly spoke

you know a killer without a gun is like a riddler without a pun—not funny.

and i just can’t be me without a joke.

see, thief, lately i’m not feelin’ right/my tongue is numb & my lungs is tight/

my chest is hopin’ for a rest cuz my heart just don’t want to be a part of another goddamn fight

it’s a hell of a life, thief, livin’ with this funny feeling in my head

like the joke to them is watchin’ how i cope with being caught within my prison,

and what i’m runnin’ from—i believe is somethin’ dead.

so call me doctor, thief, and then call me a priest…cuz i hear them sayin’ that i’m insane

but the reason is gotta be that some dumb somebody done put a spell on me.

in the name relief, thief, call me a doctor and then call me a priest

…cuz some dumb body done put a hell of a spell on me

and a bounty on my head like they is waiting on all Hell to kill me dead

so in the name of relief, call me a doctor and then call me a priest

and then come back to me, my thief.

what’s up, doc, i see my thief was listening to me.  

see, i got aches in my bones & holes in me where they shouldn’t be

i got cracks in my psychic cavity/i got lack in my capacity/i got lust for forms of depravity

and due to lackluster, it makes it hard to muster the audacity

see, doc, its like i gots the devil in me/and i’m in need of some goddamn sympathy

what do you got, doc, by the way of synchronicity to get me back on track

—you know, tockin’  and walkin’ like a clock talkin’

cuz, doc, i done lost me in some crack somewhere sometime way back 

so, doc, tell the thief i needs me a Judas Priest

—its about that angel’s gold them devils call a soul

see, once i was wantin’ my own but all i could get—curse this goddamn debt—

was some half of one on a loan

jah bless the other golden half/and a toast to what we both don’t know

 i hope him gets the best of me and mixes it deep within his soul

walk with me, doc, and would you tell the thief—tell him i really needs me a judas priest

to talk with me in terms of the low tones where i done made my home

and i swear by the clock, Father Doc, long time ago some dumb body done put a spell on me.

thief, did you find me a righteous priest, 

means one who understands when its righteous to be a thief

see the Judas had the inside news that the Christ was ripe to be sacrificed

you know—the one for the many/and so he bet heads on the penny/

and said tails—hide your ass till its over.

all over now, thief, and now the joker’s gonna make his speech—thief, does you copy?

…for the sake of ole Frank, let’s get somethin’ straight—priest, its about my fate.

now the Weights know i’m no saint

against the Measure of the Feather makin’ the counterweight,

i admit, i is no beginner as a sinner—& i see my lifeline is getting thinner and thinner

but neither am i offering to be your black sheep either—i just aint in to extra suffering 

if you’re a fake, then my soul goes heavy with that killer’s hate.

but if justice hails as the crow sails then me has got a just excuse for mine every crime

—i’m not tryin’ to hide—just want my turn to justify my time

just as certain as that lil’ white cross now markin’ the bones of the buried  

once upon a time that wood stood tall and free as a tree strongly planted by the streams

—till it was made to pay the ultimate price, now we is talkin’ ‘bout life sacrifice…

…in the name of the price, all Hail to the Scales, priest—see, i’m no thief

i know black is in my soul but i has got stock holds in gold

cuz when i soared it all got stored up as pure possibility/goddamn them for depressing me/

and goddamn this spell that some dumb body done put on me.

hell, priest, what does you know about hell?  do tell.

me, i guess i took the fall too well/seems i landed in a curse and damnit it hurt

now no pleasure is beneath me if my tether don’t tell/i don’t wanna give my handler hell

you heard them say about joy & pain that they is generated

in the same goddamn centers of the same goddamn brain

well i’m afraid my generators they went insane/cuz i is mostly okay with the ache

and the pleasure only gets better when i embrace the pain

damnit, priest, its like i told the thief,

it’s a hell of a spell some dumb body done put on me/and i is in need of some relief

i said religion’s gotta be for the pigeons

cuz their aint no cure in belief, priest, you gotta know

oh, i gave it a go cuz some Father Doc prescribed it/so i decided i’d try it/

but i done read them dead saints/but they aint got no recipe for relief/

just a formula for more suffering/and their aint no real remedy in faith that i know.

see, priest, it’s like i need to be redeemed but i can’t find the reason why

and the hurt it goes deeper than any dirt in my long life of crime

so i tried to exercise me like i sent the damn church a petition for a real exorcism

to deal with this internal schism unnerving me inside

—and the holy pops responded cursing/called me really undeserving/

and said i should sweat it out instead/so goddamnit i did until i nearly fell dead

but this curse is stronger than the hearse

& this goddamn hex is still weighin’ heavy upon my head

musta been a some real dumb somebody that up and did a real goddamn number on me.

…is you still listening, priest, cuz i still aint done finishing with me

see, my life has been a disaster and the rhythm just got faster

like i was doin’ time to a drum roll that did the opposite of slow

—we is talkin’ speed that even the news feed couldn’t follow

where the hell is my thief—the shit that only you & i know is now bankin’ incredible, thief

—if only it was worth the price of rice—

lord it would be nice to afford somethin’ to help with the hurt…capish, priest?

the damage is deep and the plot is still thick with desire to do me like stewed meat…

but at least i still got my thief.

i said ‘collateral, hell’ cuz i’m not the kind to sell—

but i’ll be a genie if you need me and a mouth if you got meaning

just don’t make my thief leave me cuz he is my only relief.

& goddamnit, priest, i need some goddamn peace

cuz some dumb somebody done put a hell of a spell on me.

you wanna hear somethin’ funny, thief?  here goes nothin’:

once there a joker and once there was a thief.

but as fate would have it there happened to be only a black hole where the joke should be

and as for the thief, only fool’s gold scattered over all of god’s matter 

for to make a fool of the thief—maybe we is both in need of relief.

damn the doctor & damn the priest & damn the damnata’s incompetency

where in hell is hell’s damned compana of heathen

god’s damn bullshit has got me cravin’ some kind of reason for all this slavin’

and soon i’ll be needin’ my fill of that hellish kind of milk & honey

now i spoke my piece—[and the peace broke awkward]—

—another gin & tonic, if you please, priest—better make it 2 cuz one is for my thief

we is gonna talk beef.

now isn’t it ironic, thief, that this joke was played on you and me

—i hear the decision is in and the last count is taken when the cock crows/but what of the loon?

you is really gonna close so soon?  i is still too sober, dude…

i need my soul to catch that spitfire spirit and get lit by its ghost

if this ass is gonna make a move

look me in the teeth, thief, and tell me what you see in my grin when i’m not laughin’

be honest with me, thief, cuz i got this rawness in me that’s like huntin’ for somethin funny

and damnit its got me worried the depths i might go just for to catch a joke

goddamn this goddamn spell.

there just aint nothin’ funny here in hell.