I Sold My Soul for Karaoke
An original poem by Chrome Dome Mike Kimbro
Please read along to my Spoken Verse Performance.
In the shower, I feel quite compelled.
To make a pleasant noise as I exhale.
But in public my talent has been withheld,
Until I thought of this karaoke tale.
The sign up sheet was nearly full,
At Check's, where the competition's tough.
I let the host know it was total bull.
Singing only 2 songs wasn't enough.
With beaucoup buxom babes, many in sweaters.
World famous Check's is karaoke's summit.
My chance to sing 4 songs would be better,
Where fine fillies were less abundant.
The devil arrived after dinner.
I'd seem him there a time or two.
Jumped with ease between baritone and tenor.
But never sang a song that I knew.
Satan silenced the crowd with his solos.
And there was a method to his madness.
When singing about subjects like sadness.
My lone falsetto experience,
Was with "Debra". That's what my late wife was named.
My tears made the crowd go delirious.
That is, until a vocal cord got strained.
Tending to earlier hydration,
I stood before the urinal, as men do.
A voice said he shared in my frustration.
But the fix was easier than I knew.
I was wishing right then I was in a stall.
Where folks enjoy a little more privacy.
A contract appeared on the restroom wall,
Which made me question my sobriety.
The legalese was in an ancient script,
Spelling out the terms of the deal.
Payment to be collected within my crypt.
Which, for me, couldn't be more ideal.
Immediately upon my signing,
Five singers complained of health problems.
If you ask me, that was pretty good timing.
Though I did feel a bit sorry for them.
After my first performance that evening,
Gals waited in line to dance with me.
Two songs later, some were live streaming,
What the comments called world class karaoke.
So many folks on the world wide web,
Yearn to be the friend of a great crooner.
When asked to share my secret, all I said,
Was that I'm, what they call, a late bloomer.
The host was a karaoke big shot.
But by the 4th song, I'd won him over.
And the crowd was with me, no matter what.
Even sparse lyrics like "Crimson and Clover".
When not in a room with like minded friends,
I'm busy searching Karaoke Version.
One has to stay current with the musical trends,
But I've given up on my girlfriend's conversion.
She feels three times a week is excessive,
Though I've never done three nights in succession.
Look man, I need an outlet that's expressive.
Who is she to decide what's an obsession?
And maybe my hobby has taken its toll,
On the best relationship I've ever known.
But if she ever learned that I sold my soul,
For karaoke, she'd put it on my headstone.
Sure, that night Satan was true to his word.
But since then I've had nothing but fails.
At least I insisted that payment be deferred.
It's like they say, the Devil's in the details.
Copyright © Michael Kimbro 2018. All rights reserved.
Keywords: Poems about karaoke, Satanic poetry, Kentucky karaoke.