An Old Soul's Journey

An Old Soul's Journey

Enlightening Humanity One Line at a Time


chris f. minshew


An Old Soul’s Journey is an unadulterated examination of society, bureaucracy, and life in general without regard to political correctness.  This compilation is cynical at times and somewhat surreal (in a Kafkaesque sort of way) in that it searches for truthe while suggesting it is unattainable.


Chris has a publisher who is excited about publishing this collection of poetry.  However, they strongly suggest getting an artist to illustrate his compilation of poems to optimize its selling potential.  So...Chris is currently searching for an artist to illustrate "An Old Soul's Journey."  If  your drawings are anything but ordinary, please fill out the "Contact Form" on the Contact Page expressing your interest in helping with this project.  After that, Chris will contact you with information on submitting your work for consideration.  An ideal candidate would be someone who draws in a manner no one else considers "normal."  Below are a few of the poems that would appear in the collection.  You may use them as a basis for drawings to submit.  Thanks and good luck!



Hatred’s Little Secret

by Chris F. Minshew


False hatred does come in many a form,

Their actions, their thoughts, their blame for a storm.


Candidly tapping one’s “beautiful mind”

Spreads trails of disease ‘til the end of time.


Blatantly pushing and killing those near,

Regrets give way to that shit-eating sneer.


Knowing the sadness and sorrow it brings

Is easily outweighed by selfish things.


True hatred does come from many a source,

Your kinfolk, your friends, they’re jealous (of course).



Bleep You!

by  Chris F. Minshew

Bleep you for the way you look at me,

Bleep you for the way you don’t.

Bleep you for all your wisecrack insights

That have hit so close to home.

Bleep you for being better than me,

Bleep you for having such fun.

Bleep you for winning every award

That could ever have been won.

Bleep you for telling me what to do,

Bleep you for knowing it all.

Bleep you for setting me straight each time

I ever did trip and fall.

Bleep you for making me say these things,

Bleep you for being right there.

Bless you is the phrase that has been bleeped,

Now you see how much I care?



by  Chris F. Minshew

Sweet breath of life that is so faint

Come to me in my darkest hour

Don’t forsake me or lead me astray

For I am yours to the bitter end

One with you, I cannot fade

Leave me no more in this wicked place

My time for dally has come to an end

Giver of life, I do regret

Not getting to know you sooner than this

Wanton sighs are toxic reminders of our wretched past

Stay with me now and I promise you this

As long as I live I will cherish you greatly

Besmirch me no more, sweet breath of life

Peace you will bring with your final adventure

Your parting is my salvation, lovingly so

Wrathful as it may be, my darkness is gone…

Illuminated by even the weakest of candles


Mining for Miners

by  Chris F. Minshew

Cynics sow seeds to a bountiful crop

The minefield of truthes makes weaker men drop.

Forgetful of time & place of battle

Believing no less would end the chattel.

Ignore history books or what they may say

The past won’t repeat – ain’t that just the way!

Wanting to go home is never enough

Scalding dogs of yore will make you seem tough.

Six years in trenches, six years in bleachers

The spotlight’s today, ignore the teachers.

The two in the bush might even be four

Take even longer & settle the score.

Something must give without giving away

The minefield of truthes – would you like to play?


The Hole of Peep

by Chris F. Minshew

Exonerate, exonerate o whimsical one

The fate of the world at your front door.

It continues to knock, but please don’t answer.

Your presence it beckons but does not comprehend.

The world thrives on conflict but weeps for peace.

Why then do you mock those that worship you?

Hastily bestow your stinging reprisal.

Nonsensical decisions bring you closer every day.

Your reality, your truthe, your mere presence

Is unfathomable, incomprehensible even.

Why are you chased and mocked in the same instance?

Those who have known you briefly are highly regarded.

Ones knowing you intimately never divulge your greatest secret,

Giving rise to such ponderation as this.

Forgive me, o whimsical one

The fate of my world will surely come knocking.

No need to check the peephole, you’ll know…