Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Air hits,
Mind shifts.
A moment of happiness,
Another of pain.
Euphoria,
Gone down the drain.
Blood flows,
So does shame.
Mind deciphering,
The owner's little game.
Her voice,
But there's one more.
She barely speaks,
The other voice guides her actions more.
"Tried fighting the intruder,"
Says the mind.
But the voice is an escape,
From the real being inside.
Into the gallows of shame it leads her,
Her head in the loop of death.
The owner ready to die,
Letting the other take charge.
When the air hits again,
And the voice dies.
It is murdered,
The owner wins.
No other voice,
can take over her being.
The mind deciphers the code,
the owner didn't want it to know.
It said,
"There's a plan, only the secretive heart can know"
The heart, because the voice trying to mislead the owner can control her mind but not her heart. In this poem the voice can be taken as the voice of the devil or someone with a multiple personality disorder.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2020
When Leonard Cohen Met Charlie Daniels, The Devil Went Down to Georgia

~~~
The Devil Went Down to Georgia ¥
https://youtu.be/wBjPAqmnvGA

Charlie Daniels, the country music legend who died July 6, 2020, was part of the 1970 Leonard Cohen tour. (see notes)
                                            
This one is a gift to a recovering addict and a poet, for whom that peculiar, par-articulate, addictive passion, thank the Lord, got no cure.

                                                      <£>

two country boys, ok, so different countries, but both intimately
a-cquainted with the Devil, his song & music-making-copious
a-bilities, his other trois backup ***-sin-tants, The Sin Sisters,
a/k/a wine and women and sweet poetry...

now the Devil mostly gets his due, you pay his price twice, in daily
wear ‘n tear on body and soul, always trying to keep one step ahead,
taking his best, sometimes leaving the rest, but ha! not always cause sometimes a...

bargain needs keeping, gotta keep your word honest, still if you can find a wile e coyote-wriggle-way to be a tad faster, keep them ten  fingers crisscrossed, you might steal a tune or three, before you chanter la finale, sing/pay the last installment...

now these boys were multilingual, one spoke french, the other, southern, but two-gether, they could harmonize the Lord’s Prayer on a banjo, fiddle and a guitar, in une langue ancienne#, formerly spoke in those United States and Canada, now only in the heavens above...

cannot truthful say I ever saw them play on the same stage, no matter,
cause the parallels are clear as a night sky starry moon, the stories they told, in lyrical verse, different cuzins, slightly incestuous, and
infectious too, cause you catch yourself singing redneck in a foreign
language and you’re liking the way women looking at the big star on
a tour bus...

now the devil wanted these bad boys real bad in his pantheon, went
down to Georgia and back up to Montréal au paradis, said to them “no more diddling, just fiddling and singing, time to make that finale payment, principal and interest, come to collect my country boys  and all what they got left...alors allons en enfer mes bébés..”##

now the sounds they made was just too good, the Lord heard it, it was like Picasso painting the sky, and came to collect Charlie yesterday, (07/06/20), Leonard had come up earlier, and if you need to learn how this story ends, well, there’s a poem listed down below avec tous les détails.

but as my straight laced pappy, use to say in his German accented english, in his morning suit, striped pants and Homburg hat, all’s well that don’t end in hell

or something like that anyway.
# in an ancient tongue
## ok then let’s go to hell, my babies

“He [Leonard Cohen] spoke in poetic ways and was able to communicate with people who had never lived in that world, like myself, and had never been exposed to that side of things…I saw another whole side of music that I had never seen, and I had so much respect for Leonard’s creativity, unique thoughts, the way his mind works. I learned a lot. You know what we do is the sum total of what we’ve done, actually. I was glad to be exposed to that feel, to that thing.”.  Charlie Daniels

^Also see:  https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833538/for-leonard-cohen-the-musicians-minyan/
_______________________

¥ “ The Devil went down to Georgia. He was lookin' for a soul to steal.
He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind and he was willing to make a deal
When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot.
And the Devil jumped upon a hickory stump and said, "Boy, let me tell you what."

"I guess you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player, too.
And if you'd care to take a dare I'll make a bet with you.
Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the Devil his due.
I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul 'cause I think I'm better than you."

The boy said, "My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin,
But I'll take your bet; you're gonna regret 'cause I'm the best there's ever been."
_________________
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/charliedanielsband/talktomefiddle.html
Jtlbl Jul 2020
His pain is deep, he stroles through hell
Valley of the shadow of death?
Is nothing If u knew his anguish.
He suffers well
A good day that's where he go's to catch breath
There his deomos truly get rest
eyes closed
His minds eyes spoke
Lies it told him he died
he lost all hope
To face his own story though his own eyes
Feeling the pain he caused and all his lies
Choosing death sounds best said in jest
If that good guy had to die???
just know it wasn't you are you high?
Trying to stay positive and keep it light
Clearly loosing the fight
was he a hero, hell No
Not a hope in hell hed see heaven.
Villan disguised,
lies in his eyes
A Romeo, maybe tho?
cassonvoa? sky blue eyes it's over.
Juilets life spiral down the drain
He died 1st
So she would have time to recover
Find find a new lover
He he was rotten the worst
His death was not litural but that of spirit and soul
But years of many that ripped him in two no longer whole
Not even the souls essance
Spending time with him people felt no life no pressamce
His smile lost to time and memory
his laugh blew silent in the breeze
He was left an enemy
People abused him like giant flees
Blood suckers draining his last energy.
Before he left it's was said he became a dog
Parasites he got used to these
In pursuit of happiness he was about to meet his God.
Whatever he thought that was
One last breath he took her hand
His temptress had won
His demise she planned
She had his number on day one
Grinning as the sand spilled through his glass
His time was up he wasn't made to last
The sadow of a man fading away
not even lady luck  could saved him
He's had one last smile to put on his face
His arm in the air and ******* up
His last words were
"I never gave a ****"
A storm blew in and took him away
No remember 's his name such a shame
Trash The world couldn't wait to get rid
A myth once said his name was joahua or josh
Actually a good passionate and funny
Guy
personally if u ask me?
I'd say that myth was a lie
He was cold and couldn't care less
no love in his eyes,just glazed over
His love was a fallen angel
corrupt and rotten
Her pressance stole his life
As this story fortold
Second for second
She would never allow him to grow old
what he did for her, locked him out of heaven.
banned from the gates his soul would fall forever
Into the melting ***
A sinner God forgot
No children, no wife
She consumed every part life
For u see she was neither a women angel nor devil
Or a suddtress as he said
she was herion
power in bag
Which that storm was said to blew out
It Took him away, it his future
His Legacy and life died that minute
He finally let mr quid go too
In truth
If u saw one u saw the other
Quid was his brother
A second half of whole
For what he realised that moment
Was his other half he searched years,
Was the face looking back In waters refleftion
The peace they searched for
Was within himself he had been at war years now
Finally realising women blame for his pain
The sabotage his thought imagine and brain
So me made another character
To deal with the pain
to look in his own eyes
Look past the pain
Look past the lies
Quid was born  
Locking josh in back of his mind
Forced to face life
Forced to simile
Forced to Wait
just a while
Daily It starts all over
But there nothings left
To be taken or broken
Hes stronger now
Romeo and Juilet Was cute
next it will be mess
****** in mind
trying to stay
Blessed pshhhh
This is just my story
****** that won't lay Down
A just a ****** who refuses to frown
A just a ****** coming for everything even what u have chained down
I'd say lock away your women but this clown?
Already tho em and this town
These words hold no value
Just **** talking
Words walking
Mind's boring
Paper scoring
****** snoring
Sobriety exciting
Or so the words were at enthralling more than the pain of insomnia in recovery let me stop before I stutter mutter and rhyme with butter
Quid out
Drugs women devil angels money art my mind a storm and God and a dog it's all there should be a book or movie
Alicia Moore Jul 2020
Life is like a video game,
The motive is to survive the ultimate level.
You can be the one to cast the flame
And shift the blame,
But in the end —
We’re all faced with the devil.
The Diablo sat there one day amongst his inner innocence and decided that he no longer wanted his heart broken.
The Diablo cried and cried until he couldn't no more as it started to **** him on the inside.
The Diablo said to himself that he's going to block out all emotions and love for others and cause a reckless destruction while his heart of fire turned to cold dead stone.
His fingernails grew long and black after rotting under his temptresses phony heart.
The Diablo cried out loud but no one could hear him so he started to stomp his feet on the ground and grow his white angel wings into a sharp velvet black.
The Diablo had enough, he was tired of love, tired of being treated like a *******.
Diabo finally gave up and without a care did as he wanted to keep himself happy.
The Diablo is always filled with fire, but this time he ignited on the outside to show his burning sensation from within and he slowly withered away into a corpse shell to hide into his darkness with the phantoms in the trees.
Alan S Jeeves Jul 2020
Satan visits often,
He arrives at dead of night;
He counsels me
Where I should be,
He exhorts with all his might.

Satan visits often,
I find him in the dark;
Tine figured head,
Eyes fiery red,
A prong to make his mark.

Satan visits often,
Ghostly in his cloak;
My troth to break,
My soul to take,
My very faith to choke.

Satan visits often,
Expounding where I'm wrong;
He has his say
Till break of day,
He attests where I belong.

Satan visits often,
Bearing bread and wine;
I may not know
Which way I'll go...
Mayhaps with him I'll dine.

ASJ
Next page