Soar that solo. Rip that break.
Weave those words as though they make
Diamonds from your demons,
Tame that hellhound on your tail
Like all that midnight crossroads scheming
Was personal: survive and tell the tale.
You can play it: note for note
Each inflection learned by rote
From someone else’s torture.
Puppet playing on the strings
No whisky that the roadie brought ya
For your pain: false grooves, sufficient cures may bring.
Roll up? No, these days we vape.
Just strut that walk and throw that shape.
Don’t worry about what you lack.
Watch them imitate the move
They know the code, you bring it back
You’re just someone they used to love.
.
Stephen A. Linstead
.