Pondering creativity, music, unsure whether it was the crowning glory of my youth or the toilet that swallowed it.
There are warts on their skin now, dragon nail breath, those fresh songs, a lifetime away. Momma used to come dance to my voice. First, she stopped dancing then she ceased to live or was it the other way around.
Those little girls, my daughters, who used to sing all my songs, have children of their own, husbands and careers. My sons make their own music
Stone damn markers in our lives, deaths of parents, assassinated politicians, elections and hurricanes, life experiences that bind us to a sense of purpose and expectations of ourselves and others. Canned laughter from the tv room makes about as much sense.
Other than duplicity, there is no actuality. Audiences expect to hear and see, experience a secondhand reality, what they are programmed to be comfortable with, hot and ready to do that thing everybody’s talkin’ about, whatever the hell it is. The room was empty when the pretenders left, possibly more desolate than before they arrived.
Beggars are the only liars that earn their keep.
Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/wordwulf
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!
Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
Check out our songs and other endeavors at http://wordwulf.com.