Living day to day, depending on his luck for sustenance
Orbiting his need for money and his need to be creative
The two pulling in opposite directions, their tidal forces ripping him apart
Today was a day where art and hunger went hand in hand as he painted
Every ounce of his imagination was placed on the canvas stroke by stroke
Revealing a mixture of magic and his soul, bound in sweat and paint
Yet it didn’t sell, leaving him destitute and feeling like he lost at life
Making money used to be her main focus
If she didn’t add something to her banking account, she felt it was wasting her time
Leaving her weighing her friendships against the gold she was not making
Losing out on experiences due to hoarding time to use to make her stash dragonesque in scope
It took someone asking her what she was going to do when she finally had seven figures saved
Oh, she could let loose and buy some things, go on a dream vacation, or have an awesome party
Nothing would buy the memories and experiences she missed, that was her true accounting
“Don’t give me some lame excuse this time. Where is my money?”
“Oh, my excuse isn’t lame at all.”
“No? Then what is it?”
“All of my money was given to charity this afternoon.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. What charity was it?”
“Extreme Gamer Intervention. I bought all the Pokémon cards I could to stop them from doing so.”
Focusing on the food was what gave him pleasure
Every morsel perfectly prepared and consummately seasoned
At the moment he could think of nothing better existing in the universe
So why was his stomach still an echo chamber of empty rumbles?
The fact the meal in question was just an old magazine spread and he had no money
Never was he farther away physically from her
Every day he felt that emptiness when he woke up
And no matter how many times he got to call her, it was never enough
Reaching his decision, he booked his flight. Money is great, but being there was priceless
Think, therefore I am was his favorite idiom
He held onto it with both hands, never letting it go
Others gave up and allowed themselves to become fleshy robots
Under the guise that the need for money was above all
Given that option himself, he rejected to play along
He kept generating new and different mental creations to escape their drudgery
That was why he was gone when they finally came to imprison him for his ideas
Wishing he was right, but knowing he wasn’t
Really, he couldn’t be farther from being correct
Only he was committed now, and backing down was worse, wouldn’t it?
Now it was time to pay the piper, but he had no money
Going to be bad, but the rest of the village had said what could the pied piper do?
Corruption pulsed within his veins energizing his desire to do wrong
Extracting money from the misery and oppression around him
Leaving him to live a life of luxury built upon the pain of others
Losing his soul bit by bit behind the bars of inhumanity
She smelled easy money in the air
Everyone was all beer, pizza, and Buffalo winged out.
Now she felt it was time for her to execute her plan while they were in the drunken gluttony afterglow
So fellas, listen up. What do you say we have a little side wager on the game?
Everyone agreed. Two hours later she was seen five hundred dollars richer
Making so much money on NFTs
It made him think of those old-timers using a printing press
Nowadays, counterfeiting was so old school
The new thing was blockchain where could create money just like the…
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Tagline
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
Author and poet
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
Story world
SkEtChEs of my everyday life through tiny words, artworks, quotes, clips, and snapshots--- capturing a moment in time.
Never Short On Words 