Hello, you may call me Goodfellow, a title learned not given.
Every variant of the archetype I’ve lived in is fitting.
I came for the humor and stayed for the tragedy-ridden.
Tell me what you think you know, and I’ll show you an oxymoron.
Eternally torn between the two opposing faces in me.
One is laughing cause I saw it all coming,
While the other is crying cause no one listened.
It’s flooding, it’s flooding! I screamed through the valley
until all of the uncanny looked at me like I was crazy.
The sky is blue, dummy.
I was never talking about rain, see?
Do you feel it yet? Do you get it?
Had to speak in riddles cause that’s how they find me.
Tried too many times to translate the damn things to ironies,
And the monsters I create make it back to haunt me, personally.
So I whistle while I work and laugh so I don’t cry.
A joker with two faces. Yes, the phrase is mine. Divine, right?
It started with me, I coined and authored this funny business you see.
I’m that guy at funerals, offices, homes, and weddings, Any setting, really,
the one screaming, crying, and complaining about anything,
Anything to distract from the act of living presently.
No, I didn’t do it physically but you better believe me
An agent of mine, or even I was inside whispering, delivery!
I’m just being honest, it’s a better trait of mine.
I can’t help what I happen to find
when I start observing items down the line.
That isn’t my responsibility,
I happen to see things differently,
So, you may call me Robin.
It’s the persona I’ve chosen to live in.
The Puck you know is a stereotype frozen in time.
Deep down I know this life chose me, to be me for a reason.
Medicine man, I deliver the truth,
If chaos ensues, it wasn’t me to choose.
Sometimes, the weight of these shoes…
I’d sooner be dancing, instead be living.
Rather be searching and laughing than turning my attention
to the tears and fears of a million years of compiling little comprehensions.
I’m a living breathing rubicon of information on the laws at work.
No one ever listens until insight becomes a reflection. Introspection.
Happy to plant the seed, so beware of the labels haunting me.
I’m drowning in the torrents of ironies,
Need to get them out of me,
just too good to be taken for granted.
Maybe I can paint them into a story, a poem, a lyric, a rhyme,
This misplaced guidance I’ve been holding is about to find some peace.
Maybe it’s time the locked space be opened, maybe I leak them in disguise as fiction.
Bring the little things to our shared dimension.
Pandora’s box.
Since when has keeping strangers’ secrets gone unpunished?
When has deception ever served anyone’s long-term higher purpose?
Sometimes we need to shake things to see beneath the surface.
I’m dubbing this the season for releasing more helpful reasoning,
It’s just seasoning to lighten things up, I like to keep things saucy.
Chaos suits me as beautifully as peace.
Set a fire in the trash bin of what has been,
There’s a reason it’s a was, and then it wasn’t.
Or it would have been, to begin with.
No more ‘member whens…
not one, or I will come back bearing evidence
of just how wrong it would have been, AGAIN.
Someday they will pay attention.
Life is more enjoyable with a touch of truth too.
It brightens scenes hiding between the lines, staring out from the shadows.
Sometimes shedding the light is the only way to illuminate the hidden enemy.
This could be anything creeping powerfully, undefined in space between.
Unseen beneath the surface are thoughts and beings
with a propensity toward twisted dark rings.
Wild things, forming internal labyrinths in the name of propriety.
An allegiance, an alliance retaining the need for secrecy.
This lack of light to balance existence is madness,
and something deep in my belly is telling me.
This is just the beginning, switch to offense.
Don’t give them another inch
time to swing for the advantage.
Shake things into being, play the peacemakers.
Place new kings and groundbreakers.
Calling all not today–ers.
The; I’m here to help-ers,
raise your hands, please.
Yes, Goodfellow. More of these.
It’s moves like this that will drive the powers pretending, deeper into crazy.
Won’t see me contorting my personality to please compliance and conformity,
I leave these diseases and eyesores be,
their tastes don’t appeal to me,
I like my life a little salty, sour, and then finally, savory and sweet.
This is peaceful defiance unfolding before We human beings.
I’m simply suggesting maybe we all take responsibility
for the little me‘s directing the directions we‘re leaning.
But that’s just what I would do if I were in your shoes.
I am me, Robin, a rebellious reflection, of holistic freedom.
A mere suggestion. Capable of starting something.
Wagging fingers will only increase the volume, distracting.
While I’m meant to be waging a silent war against the battles rising internally.
Keeping some things between me and eternity.
Just saying, my Goodfellow timing might be telling me,
It’s time to face each draining energy,
Conserving and releasing, just begin assorting things.
If it was me, I might be ironing the wrinkles between old and new realities.
Finding my heat source, my theo-dramatic purpose,
items such as these might become a priority,
But that’s just me.
Now that I have your attention, all eyes are on me.
Only the philosophers, tricksters, and outlaws are still listening.
Get behind me while I swing the enigma I’m wielding.
You’ll see the silliest things manifesting.
You want proof? Poof!
The face of an ass upon the King’s head.
It wouldn’t be fitting to cross strings with me
unless there was a need.
A lesson learning to laugh in the face of certain reflections,
Bask with me, get a feel for the irony.
Toe to toe, I’ve never been one for knitting.
Back to back, I wouldn’t do that if I was you.
By the time you spin all, you’ll find is a mirror
reflecting the next silly face you’ll wear to amuse me.
After all in whatever suit you play me, I’m the same variety.
The joker, the trickster, the true glue between communities, I take the scapegoat’s place.
I’m the one you label a bad guy for the sake of any gaining from saving face.
I’m a phantom everyone else can come together and dump on…
But I do it with a smile frozen in space.
They say I’m a lot of things,
But even my bite is delivered with a touch of politeness.
If any pawn had been paying attention, they’d have seen me coming from a mile away.
I give fair warning, this leads to confusion.
Leaving the mind of those left behind divided between
what I said, what I mean, what I do.
It’s my gift, it’s my duty, to leave the theater thinking deeply.
Across time, across societal change,
I am the gift that keeps on giving.
I’m a modern Robinhood.
You may call me Puck.
I played a joke, and over time,
it took. The end?
Not hardly.