The future, I've seen it, it's wanting me dead.
And will not be stopping 'til dry I be bled.
And Time is most callous as follows its course.
And Age fights Disease to call dibs on my corpse.

The Company Store

I loaded my quota of six more than ten.
I asked the accountant what more I owe then?
He said my days living have added one day,
But as far as my debt, I have much left to pay! 

T'was sixteen tons loaded and nothing to show.
Saint Peter, don't call me, you know I can't go.
My burden, my toil, this fruit-empty chore,
From pledging my soul to The Company Store.

And Jesus, I love you! Yes truly, I do!
And Buddha, Confucius, Muhammad, Lao Tzu!
Your saving is precious, abstract, and sublime.
I'd follow you duly, but haven't the time.

'Fore dawn, after dusk I thus shovel this coal,
I haven't seen sun since was sixteen years old.
Eternity beckons. Too bad I'm not free.
The Company Store is the owner of me. 

The slaveowner over my world-weary soul.

At the devil's direction I shovel this coal.
My debt keeps accruing by day and by night.
My karma, I beg thee relief from this plight! 

But karma lacks mercy; it's callous, and cold,

And takes its delight from the tears of my soul.

But the Five have compassion, and point out the way.

I'd like to walk on it, but debt I must pay.

My owners take payment from anguish of soul.

But had I some currency lustrous like gold,

To persuade them to grant me some breadth of reprieve,

To earn them more nuggets and win my release.

I loaded my quota of six more than ten.

I asked the accountant what more owe I then?

He said my days living have added one day,

But as far as my debt, I can never repay.

I presented a nugget, asked, "What trade you for?"

Said, "A day of reprieve from The Company Store."

"And if day after next, I present you with two?"

"Another two days you would certain accrue."

'Cause sixteen nigh worthless, but one nugget though...

Saint Pete, don't forsake me, one day I may go.

A mission, a calling, a fruit bearing more,

That wins me release from The Company Store.

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I haven't written in a while.  I started out  with this just being a poetry cover of Sixteen Tons, but then as I was writing it, it became it's own thing entirely.

Johnny B Goode

Oh Johnny! Oh Johnny! Oh won't you be good?!
You never do aught that you ought, that you should.
There's one thing I ask that you grant, if you would...
Thus your mom named you, so Johnny B Goode!

Countdown

Tickety tock!  Goes expert clock,
Which keeps the time, counts down to naught.
Frightening those bereft and fraught.
Tarry ye not.  So says the clock.

Seeking opposites

Those seeking dark places grow brilliantly bright;
Those seeking the brightness, will never find light.

Rock & Roll

Just take them old records down off of the shelf.
I'll be sitting and listening all by myself.
Today's type of music just hasn't the soul,
So go on and say it, "Man, you're getting old!"

So call me old-fashioned, whatever you will.
And say that I'm ancient and over the hill.
Today's type of music ain't got the same soul,
So play me that old school, they rock and they roll!

I guess the spirit grabbed and moved ya,
Occupied and overthrew ya.
'Cause you don't care for music, do ya?
But heard you singing:  hallelujah!