Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
A universal force leading you to the crossroads
To sell your soul and finally live within potential
Or pass it by, blinking lashes
blocking dust and truth

It takes  three things and only those three
Everything else is fluff

You gotta be ugly - you gotta be blind
Can't see or fathom the linear substance
The concrete holding, your bricks in the wall
Either in a literal sense or on the inside
Prominent features surpassing character
hard to look at but don't you worry
You gotta be blind
so it's no concern to you.

Next you gotta depart with your core
Strip away hope,
a skinning between body and soul
No longer will it be yours but if you're lucky,
you may get to keep it through layaway

There's always a price though, hidden fees
Steep, unsubtle , a fat moon face hiding behind a child's mask
I wonder though, was it really ours, this soul, to begin with?
To sell?
Self entitlement lingers second thoughts
That's the biggie though. Ultimate collateral, this soul you carry.

Finally, I'll only touch the tip.
Driving, animal instincts seeking warm comfort
You gotta answer to a new title,
a southern anatomy most of of the species glorifies.
it dominates in a protruding and brute external hang
A tangent  but have we considered this tender piece to be the answer to vulnerability
instead of historically jarred ******* of wit
and wealth?

That's all it takes, folks. At that fateful railing
Get used to hot, sticky and  sweet breath
Always chasing, caressing the back of your neck.
The void in the center where you had it
The soul you had
before you sold it.
deal with the devil, soul
B Beckwith
Written by
B Beckwith
     Lior Gavra and Callie Dee
Please log in to view and add comments on poems