Every day, you give me a command. Yet every day, you scold me for obeying. What am I?

I can be found in a deep underground place, smothered in my dark friend’s cold embrace. I’ve sparked imaginations, I’ve made people squeal, but at the end of the day, I’m still not real. What am I?

Your lips on my tip, Your fingers on my holes. Blow me nice and hard and snakes may dance on poles.

I'm known for my strength and endless fight, But when you look for me, I'm out of sight. In the ring, I stand, a force to behold, My name's often said, but my face remains bold. Who am I?

My flavor's good for the soul, but my purpose's not always to be eaten. My work's good for the sole, especially when you walk the path less beaten.