Sell Soul

I’d sell my soul
If I had one
I lost it long ago
I’m not sure where
Nor how or even why
Simply a ghost haunting
In human form
The machinery of life

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Art?

I couldn’t draw what my imagination sees
I couldn’t sing what my mind hears
I couldn’t paint what my soul knows
Nor could I play the melody of what my heart feels

So instead I write
Each word a note
Each line a brushstroke
Every verse a chorus
Each work a picture
Of the my reality

The lamentations of a cross road demon

A soul is a terrible thing to waste. Everyone selling them on the cheap. It’s a buyers market with a sellers misinformation. Fortune , fame, and the dame. Funny how it comes down to woman more often than not. I can barely remember a time when it wasn’t one of those three reasons that called me out at midnight. The ever human need to feed, to satisfy the thirst of desire. Offering the precious for only a few fleeting years of the rapture. Before damnation drags them down. The bill always comes due. And I don’t run a dine and dash business here. Sure there’s always one or two who bolt, who flee when its time to pay that fee. Ask the blues man how far he got, oh wait never mind he’s been in box of pine since before ‘39. didn’t take long for the hounds to sniff him out and drag him down. Sold that soul for talent he already had.

Ya see that’s the thing about humanity always selling the one thing they got for something better without paying attention to the details. They think their lives are hell. Let me tell ya something that ain’t even seen hell yet. That’s where I come. I’ll tweak a few stars, twerk a few strings and give them exactly for their heart sings for.Pennies on the soul, Judas got silver. Does that tell ya about the state of economics with the human soul. Human souls are cheap. Barely worth the time, barely worth the rhyme. But a jobs a job and it’s midnight somewhere.

Ancient Fleeting

There’s a hole in my soul
It bleeds out all I know
Nothing fills it
Nothing heals it
Wanting everything
And desiring nothing
A loop of frustration
Creating my own damnation to be my salvation

Feeling ancient
Body breaking to match my soul
Life taking its toll
Birth an accident
Existence an underachievement
Of wasted time, energy and moments

Going nowhere fast
While moving forward
In a loop de loop of a corkscrew helix
Only to find myself back
My soul will not last
As I ghost backward
In a life of pyrrhic
Whose purpose I lack

Sell Soul

I find myself at a loss
The words come yet the feeling is not there
They echo in the hollow ring
Of meaningless
They drown in the noise of my world
Without ever being heard

In the jungle of my confusion
I feel nothing
No faith in anything or anyone
There is no God or Devil here
Only me
That’s all there ever be
No loves, no fear

I have felt the dream die
I have seen the innocent cry
And the guilty smile
And truth be told after awhile

I forget which is which
And no only the bitch
That exists within and without
And no scream or shout
Is audible nor possible
To save the soul
That was sold

Soul Food

The sun long gone

The moon high in the sky shines down

While I alone engrossed in a tome of unseen lore

Ponder the wit and folly of the day

In a smoky room with dim light

Reclined in chair

I seek my comfort in words

Words that are lost on the tongue

And find deaf ears

Yet here the words find purpose

As the mind devours their meaning

Savoring the delicate nature

Of the balance they bring to the night

Soul food