The Bluesman Among Us.

From which a brave soul was born
Born to pick cotton, raise gardens, or tend to the
Hotels that visitors from the North and the South
Can relive all of their passions, aggressions, and
Memories as the sun drops out of sight for the night.

From which a direction is bestowed
In a man's mind
Putting it all down on paper and in pen
The places, the fields, the love, the lost, the misery,
And everything in between.

From an acoustic instrument to accompany
All of the thoughts, prayers, and emotions
The pain as the pen become it's navigator

From where the direction is heard
From the rusty small hole in the wall bars
One microphone, one small amplifier, and two cords
The man's mind becomes it's receiver
As beer bottles are consumed all around.

The direction now falls on dreams and memories
Both excited as to what would come next
As the direction travels from town to town
Reacting to cotton fields, gardens, love, and lost
The man's hands become calloused from it all.

The Bluesman has come
The Bluesman has gone
From the juke joints
To the occasional honky tonks
The dreams within the memories will never fade.