The Agony of Blues as read by The Devil himself
by Philip Ryan Frazier

Juke joints
Street corners
Robbed of his soul
Ready to bury
his cracked and splintered friend
In a cold and soiled grave
A six-string traveling bluesman
His name was Robert Leroy Johnson
I enticed him at my wicked crossroads

He was easily allured by success
I found him on the side of the road
Sobbing and whining like a babe
Why are you crying, Robert?
I asked with a hiss
“I’m not good enough!”
He said to me
Soon, my friend.
I grinned

“But how?”
I’ll show you!
He stepped forward
I stretched out my hands
He starred at my palms
Give me your six-string guitar.
He was trepid, young, and restless
It was hard for him to hand over
But my influence over him was great

At my crossroads, pride is useless desire
Robert placed it in my bleeding hands
I felt magic surge through my veins
Without strumming a gut string
Now I will play your love.
He dropped to his knees
“What will you play?”
I smiled
The blues!

I strummed
The earth shook
The rocks cried out
Just as Christ had died
The heavens broke open
Robert Leroy Johnson wept
“What have I done to my first love?”
Nothing more than I did to my first.
I placed his six-string back into his hands

He grabbed it quickly like a babe’s bottle
What I give you will make you famous.
His innocent stare—almost sad
I remember that myself
The day I took silver
For that humble man
That’s when I learned
What it feels
To hear

The agony of blues.