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Oct 2011
It feels like I'm cornered at a round table.
Telling tales of fables to a bunch of cut throat liars who'll slip my wrists if they found the loaded ace up my sleeve.
It's no heart but for me it beats.
Any flush bluff and any pocket 2s.
Sweating form my eyeballs betting my soul to find out the truth.
So I'll push all in when shove hits the floor, this punch drunk, cigar smoking spoiled rotten kid to the core.
Now throw down, all the chips are waiting to be cashed.
Like Johnny and June, cross this fire with your personal Jesus, but do it fast before the man comes around.
What's that sound, is it that of fear, is it that of you gulping pride and holding back tears, what ya got?
What cards were you dealt? Don't fold now of the suspense will melt.
Show me what your holding, 3 of a kind? Full house? This is no longer a game of cat and mouse.
Only lions and tigers stand on this level, you're no Faust, but for sure I'm a devil.
Only holding a King and a Queen, so utterly cliched, two diamonds both worthless and now penniless are you left.
If you couldn't bluff past me, how could you ever hope to cheat Death?
Richard Allen Pogue
Written by
Richard Allen Pogue  In the atmosphere
(In the atmosphere)   
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