The Poker Gods
Chips remained, so I decreed,
a final chance to succeed.
200k the table was set,
All in! All in! The common bet.
9 and 8 fell at the turn,
chips all in the price to burn.
Two more souls for poker heaven,
very next hand we lost number 7.
I had bided my time, held my chips dear,
pocket aces arrived, my course was clear.
6, 5, 4, fell to river card rape,
The Poker Gods spoke but just for my sake.
Four aces standing, tall and proud,
into the last 3 I did abound.
Chip leader to boot I had held my nerve,
backing a flush number 3 did swerve.
Only 2 remained at the mercy of the gods,
all in, all in, not bad odds.
Betting began, hard and fast,
both of us racing to become the last.
All in again, he threw them down,
a gauntlet picked up by this poker clown.
The flop fell, 2 kings in tow,
a king in hand, 1 to go.
A flush was building, the river came,
carrying a king to win the game.
Whether or not they really care,
for some strange reason the poet's still there.
The Poker Gods' Betrayal
River
card raped, oh how can it be,
the poker
gods spoke but not for me.
They
screwed me again with nary a thought,
taking my
balance down to nought.
Once or
twice I can manage a smile,
but every
hand fills the mouth with bile.
You rip
off twats can keep your game,
shove it
where the sun's in flame.
For this
poet has come to an end,
no more
money will he ever send.
So a life
without poker shall now begin,
the poker
gods can wear their grin.
For the
Englishman they came to kill,
is still
around and not playing still.
But these
words he offers thus,
to all
the lost souls in the dust.
The poker
gods are tincup muppets
whose
only game is for willing puppets.
Backache of the old
Unnoticed,
the passage of time lies bathed in sweat,
forgotten momentarily under a broken body.
Forced into resting against my will,
I become a sitting statue, minimal movement my new best
friend.
2014 appeared on the calendar,
the spring in my step faltered under the misshaped shadow by
my side,
a Quasimodo stance carrying anguish in each ill-defined
line.
Internal tears cascade in their own waterfall of pain,
hours roll by amid dark anger riddled moods,
I find clarity in one singular thought,
I am old!
Both the Poker Gods a still as much fun as the first time I saw them and Backache of the Old is very good.....except for one thing........it gives the impression you really are old....
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