Bars

Money is its own reward
paychecks large, fingers tremble
breaths stall, shakily exhale
a nineteen year old who’s waited too long
to blow his speakers on rock-n-roll
art yoked to success
dragged by it
plowing rows for corn to grow
achievement is yield sold
fan letters
assess in seats
broken competitors
mosca musica – music on the fly
by night in clearing smoke
new alliances are forged
as old ties cut
like gnarled roots draw
water to high branches, broad and strong
in gloaming maroon, flickering limelight
on the bodies hanging in the tree
clear water that never revives
once ugly mud introduces
impure vision to the people
peeping, spying and searching
the connect between the male of death
and female of glory
plug in and get it on
understand light bulb ways in dark winter woods
on paths follows a scene
for or against
inspire or expire… unsteady… uncertain…
just in time
where none need apply
as lightning strikes a solitary
shock

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