Producing en masse and trying hard not to sell out.

Used to the stares,
another beer, blow that horn.
Back at the bar where the thunder once shook me
when the bourbon originally blasted this soul of mine
to doubt every modicum of my purpose here on earth.

Now this girl is asking, “What exactly does a muse do?”
to which I answer, “Hell if I know, but, inspire me.”
to which the horn player replies, “Listen to the lines, my man…
I keep on blowin in between ‘em so you get to hear what
it’s all about…listen to what’s happening and revolt, baby.”

That’s when the light changes from
STOP
to
CHOOSE

Refuse Safety
“You made it this far.”
and the piano man chimes in with a
dark glassed arpeggio smirk

That’s when I get my guitar
start strumming my out-of-tune elementary blues

Quantity, Quality & Craft
don’t matter sometimes.

When I’m stuck in the hole,
I just gotta do what I can to get on out.

af

(written with pen and paper where it all started down in New Orleans)