There is a song, each of has one.
It is that song that you listen to not once, not twice,
but over and over again.
This song I loved, and put it aside, 'lost' it,
and this afternoon, on a drive to Monterey a year ago,
it found me again.
Below are the words.
Find a video of Richie Havens (see the notes) singing it.
It is a song that you will listen to not once, not twice,
but over and over again, for when he cries out
follow, you will.

Why today?
For a number of reasons.  Primarily, because the first rock festival to change the nation was the 1967 10th Anniversary of the Monterey Jazz Festival, a crossover, because, Richie and Janis Joplin were included and exploded the world, paving the way for Woodstock, the festival heard round the world, where Richie was the opening act!

The headliners were: T-Bone Walker, B. B. King, Richie Havens, the Clara Ward Singers, Dizzy Gillespie Quintet, Modern Jazz Quartet, Ornette Coleman Quartet, Carmen McRae, Earl "Fatha" Hines, Richie Havens, and Big Brother & The Holding Company w/Janis Joplin.

Teach your children well, their father's hell will slowly go by...Crosby Stills and Nash

Soon it will be six months since Richie passed (April 22, 2014).
Patty M. reminded of Van Morrison today, and it in turn, brought me to this place, where my heart resided a year ago today.


*FOLLOW
(Words by Jerry Merrick)

Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you’re able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can’t hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain’t what they seem.
And don’t mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.

The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won’t stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I’ll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.

The rising smell of fresh-cut grass,
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas;
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don’t miss you
If all the things you taste ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.

The sun and moon both are right,
And we’ll see them soon through days of night
But now silver leaves on mirrors bring delight.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I’ll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
Then maybe, when we meet, suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow…

Easier to retell events by saying, "I have a friend" when I say friend it's me.
I have a friend who created a profile on a few sites. This one was for wanting
to get to know someone who writes poems but my friend is a not so good wannabe poet.
My friend is a good looking guy but with working on net  for hours he joined
Facebook because my friend has a busy life but wanted to friend and
chat with people while working who post little of those tmi headliners updates.
He joined Google plus adding interesting lady he likes to his circle.
He didn't break the law last Friday but met someone in a parking lot thinking
she was nice and maybe he was ready to throw in the towel on meeting the interesting one.
The goal was to **** butterflies he's got in his stomach he gets thinking of interesting lady.
He made a mistake giving out his cell phone number after a long talk
at dinner with the new lady he met and who asked him to dine and she insisted on paying.  
My friend wishes he'd figure out she was a Facebook friend who used a different name,
much younger pics and ones of others. She had been trolling the net stalking his profiles
and comments to figure out what he was seeking and what he wanted in a lady.  
He's now regretting his actions and feels dumb after learning Miss sneaky was a fake.
Miss Sneak Fake figured out pretty ****** fast which poet he was posting as.
His vm is full from all calls she's been making since they parted late Friday.
He's thankful he did not give in to her requests of seeing his place.
He prefers living with being patient and the butterflies in his stomach over that
one with fingers that wont quit dialing. He regrets believing she was normal.

Now that I've been thinking
God made a special ceremony to crown Satan
He made him
"The Prince of this World"
It was in all the headliners
Angels yelling EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!
The demons happy, clapping, sippin' beer and having a good time.

Now that I've been thinking
The human race killed its Savior
And I'm not talking about when we nailed Him on the cross
It was a death no one spoke of
No one heard of
There was no demon in sight having a jolly 'ole time
Nor an angel bearing bad news weeping in the night.

The human race got smarter
For the first time we knew the roots of our creation
Through theories though and conspiracies
We brought out a new movement in each era
Every single empire a monument to **** the Messiah
Oh, we said evolution, science and biology
We said it was all by chance and not a Master of Carpentry
Philosophy
Oh philosophy, you have twisted the minds of thinkers
And through your work you have killed more men then the wars
Cause each single men in your field wanted to get inside the depth of the brain of the God
Only to proof The Almighty WRONG
All that work thrown out the trash...

BUT The Prince laughs
Cause his ceremony had more delight and joy
Yet when we killed our King
No media or reporter recorded Gods death.

Fledgings playing against the Big Stars
hard hitters pummelled
just for their supposed being
Headliners durability chiseled
the chips are down
and the Fender spreads
a hard rain

He was holding court between sets at the Texas Bar
(Not his usual stomping grounds, necessarily,
But the owner was a decent guy whose checks were good,
And a Wednesday night gig pretty much found money)
Going slow and easy with a scotch and soda of uncertain labels,
Having come to rest at that station where, as he sighs it,
Wallet tells me I prefer well drinks to the top shelf.
He’d been, if not a name name, at least recognizable
(He has posters showing him sharing the bill with the heavies,
Redding and Bo Diddley and Jackie Wilson,
Smaller font for sure, but there nonetheless)
Getting a little air play,
Even outside of niche Detroit and Chicago stations,
And one song which peaked
All the waaaaay up at seventy-eight on the chart.
Lotta uncertain buses and club owners
Who never quite caught me later,
He muses, a touch ruefully, but he finds some solace
(Indeed, he has become quite adept
At finding comfort where he can)
But, if he has not exactly prospered, he has carried on carryin’ on,
Getting steady work here or Chicago or Gary,
The odd campus Motown nostalgia gig in Lansing or Ann Arbor,
Even six or eight weeks in Florida
(Nice to be the young guy in the room for once, he all but cackles)
Covering the tunes the headliners sang in his day,
And perhaps one could say he is a Fleance or Percival,
Plodding onward from the wreckage of great man all around him,
But such contemplation is a luxury,
The province of lake houses and brokerage accounts,
Though he is fond of holding his thumb and forefinger
Spread apart just so,
And telling the listener I was this close to hittin’ it big,
Invariably following that assertion with a chuckle,
‘Course, that might not be measured to scale.

Their first gig,
Where they were headliners as opposed to being the opening act.

It had been a couple of months since they had formed,
And a couple of times they had almost lost their way.
But find their sound they did,
Improving all the while,
They had transformed into a solid opening band,
But no more,
It was their turn to shine.

5 minutes out,
The jitters were settling in,
The Frontman took a swig from his luke warm beer,
Trying to calm his shaky nerves.

The Bassist in the Drummer shared an amused look,
For they had been there before.

It was time,
The stage lights for the place burning bright,
And it is here that they tear into their first song with gusto.
Heartrendingly honest and raw,
For the Frontman it was a releasing of demons,
That held him back in the past,
Their hooks in our protagonist's flesh being ripped free,
The weight being lifted from his shoulders

The Frontman was finally set free.

Get the money,
Move the tickets,
We're gonna have a blast.

You won't want
to miss this,
the best spots are going fast.

It'll be historic,
quite incredible,
If you believe the hype.

We're planning
an epic party
of a unique and crazy type.

So maybe
we lost the caterer,
and a few headliners ditched.

Ignore the rocks,
and tiny tents.
We had to make a switch.

We admit, it seems
that several things
have gone a bit off track.

But doing this was
a massive risk
So won't you cut some slack?

Crowds are angry,
Walls close in,
The workers want their pay.

So we'll get out
while the getting's good,
and party another day.