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i stood before the mirror,
pale as a powdered lie,
with strands the colour of fallen empires
and dignity rubbed dry.

the bleach had no mercy,
the dye had no aim —
i emerged from the wreckage
with only myself to blame.

my scalp, a battlefield,
my pride, a powdered wig.
i whispered threats to heaven
with a plastic comb so big.

the townsfolk fled in silence,
the moon refused to rise,
and even my reflection
looked away from my disguise.

somewhere between brass and madness,
i found a kind of grace —
the lord of bad decisions,
with toner on my face.

so let the ships keep sinking,
let the storm winds howl and hiss —
i’m lord cutler beckett, darling,
and i was born for this.
this one is about the girl who dyed too close to the sun - and other bad decisions.
July 5, 2025
T R Wingfield Jan 2024
• (preface) . Ante Up •

Never Gamble with more
than you can afford to lose

• Prologue : The Deal •

From the dusty haze
between mirage waves
of shimmering heat
in the desert air
refracting red shifted rays
of the horizonal sun
bouncing off the highway
appears an indigent itinerant,
who’s seen better days,
walking alone
at a leisurely pace
west towards sunset
and night and escape
without baggage or burden
beyond his distempered ways.

He comes suddenly upon an unexpected place- hitherto unseen by light of day:


• I: The Flop •
     "LIQUOR IN THE FRONT!
     $ POKER IN THE BACK $"

...The flashing neon sign proclaims
From behind the dingy pane
Of a curtained window
By a door to nowhere safe;
With a sign that hangs
Underneath it saying-

"Open Buy, Table Stakes,
    No Limit Hold’em
Come on in and Play!"

-And just beneath that,
Scratched into the widow,

(In an unsettling scrawl)
{By a steady hand}
[with a razor sharp blade…]

It says

“There’s NO LIMIT to WHAT you can WIN”

...

"That does sound tempting"

So you do go in.

Everytime…

And you’re greeted with a “Hello friend!”
By a bartender standing by himself,
in an empty room,
Cuffs rolled up and forearms wet
polishing glassware and tins with a towel;
One That’s seen too many rims
and broken glasses and spilled drinks,
and blood and tears and ***** sinks
It could NOT be clean,
but “**** it,” you think,
"How bad could it be?"
Might be why Ain’t nobody in here...
But never-you-mind, 'cause the ***** is cheap…

“Can I get you something, bub?
I got some real-deal-hillbilly-moonshine,"
He says with a grin.
"Just come in; straight from Kentucky, with a fine batch of single-barrel bourbon, too.
Let's see, What else? ... Some Cuban ***,
French vermouth;
Cognac, Port, Brandy...
Shoot!
I got a bottle of Chicago's finest!
Authentic bathtub gin - from the secret stash,
no less,
of Al Capone's best lady-friend.
Might even have a little tequila still sloshing around the jug.
We got some stuff,
but the pickings are getting slim.
... Also champagne
if that's your thing.
Milwaukee beer in a can."

"By the way, just so you know
There's a cash game going,
but it already began;
You can head back, if you want…
They've probably only played one hand.”

At that, he motions to a vinyl-padded door
lit green, with a red light glow
spilling across the floor below,
ominously from under the jamb.

“Should I get a drink
and play a few?” You think,
“I don’t have much to lose.
And what if

I win?”


• II..  The Turn •

It’s a gamble, going all in
It’s a big risk to take,
But if it pays off man
*******,
You got it made

And the hand looks good,
(it always does)
But this fella’s poker face…
It's uncanny, and
You cannot read a thing.
It’s like he’s made of stone
Not a single tell; not any kinda way…

And this ******* devil-man
Always calls.

He plays his hand in every game;
Never sits out a round.
Throws his money down
Lays his cards face down,
Folds his hands,
Then he just
... Sits back …

… And he waits …

… And every hand he plays,
It seems the game is strange,
In some unexpected way -  
like cards you thought you had
aren't the same when you look again
But you can’t remember if, or when, it changed.
It might’ve been
you just seen 'em wrong,
But either way,
the card you need is gone;

And just when you notice-
He’ll look away,
And then back at you,
As if to say,
“I call your bluff kid, turn em up.
Let’s see this hand you played.
What’re you holding
That Made you think
you could win a game
I ******* made.”

• .IİI.   The River •
You’re playing too fast and loose …
         Like you ain’t afraid
            
But you should be …

         ‘Cause You ****** up
    Too Bad the Bet’s Been Made


• IV.:.   The Showdown •

...And then He wins;
And when He wins
you can’t defend the hand you held
In any way.
He takes his chips and stacks em up.
He doesn’t have anything else to say.
He doesn’t gloat; he just
… ******* smiles…
And He watches your face:
As you sit and you stare
and you think good and hard
about the mistake that you just made.

Read ‘em and weep - It’s his favorite part.
It’s his little art:
Watching a soul
get crushed…
                                  "…Ugh…"
“…Again!?!”


­• Epilogue - Wanna Buy Back In? •

Never
Pay More To Play
Than What You Stand To Win
Never pay more to play than what you stand to gain.

I’m very fond of this one, but every time I read it again I feel it’s missing some little bit - just what it is I can’t put my finger on, but it seems like there’s still some part of it out there in the ether.

Does the jump to the endgame seem
Too jarring?

That’s actually where the poem
Originally began. The first draft was just the preface, part “II..” and the epilogue (though obviously worded a bit differently, and unmarred by formalist pedantry). It felt a bit too heavy handed as parable of a gamble with the devil (indeed it was written as such), and After a revision or two for color and rhyme and rhythm, I added part “I:” - which made it feel much more like a story to me, and less like a cliché (at least in my mind) - I guess it’s still a bit cliched if I’m being honest. I wanted a “smash-cut;” that felt almost cinematic. Like a short film, with a small budget trying to get enough story in without wasting time on dealing cards round and round. But it’s that cinematic bent that makes me think it’s missing a 3rd act.

Does “II..” perhaps need to be broken up? It seems like a natural break sits at “you’re playing too fast and loose.” (also, out of curiosity, who do you think that line is attributed too?)

I tried a format with a Numeral marker there but i couldn’t decide on an evolution I liked

For example, I tried:
I: , II.. , .III.
I. , II.. , III…
i.. , ii. , iii
. , : , . :
. , . . , . . .
Nothing seemed right for the third tier.

(A major revision later)
It was  almost too obvious to title chapters after the games turns… anyway. A bit of additional self aware commentary added and now I think the piece is complete… 2/22/24    3:41 am
Sqwishy Jul 2023
You gave me all the pretty words
that I needed to hear,
But they weren't from you
from which I wanted to hear.

I fell into your carefully laid trap,
I fell into the routine - The routine that I needed
Those ******* words that I craved from the
very bottom of my soul,
You took advantage of my vulnerable mind,
And twisted it to what you wanted.

Who was I to believe that you had changed,
You led me to make some bad decisions,
that in the moment I didnt regret,
But now, now I do.

You were nothing but a pretty face that fed
me Lies,
Lies that never had any truth behind them.

You gave me all the pretty words
that I needed to hear,
But they weren't from you
from which I wanted to hear.
Its been a hot minute since i last posted, Hello out there.
Its been a rough ride even still, but im making my way
Slowly but surely.
Elizabeth Kelly Nov 2021
Lord grant me the audacity.

To again be a 23 year old marshmallow
Partying every night at the campfire with a bunch of skewers.

The audacity
To feel outstanding
With an underdeveloped frontal lobe
Floating around in cherry bombs and Stroh’s

To survive being invincible and brave and strong enough to make bold and terrible decisions
And blessedly wake to another sunrise

Never grateful to be alive.
******* *****.
How does anyone survive their early 20s.

Sheer audacity.
Just reminiscing about being a *****. The marshmallow analogy makes me laugh. Early 20s were a blast and many many years later I truly can’t believe I made it through mostly unscathed.
Mrs Anybody Jul 2020
oh papa
please
forgive me

for the
cigarettes
i secretly
smoked
with friends
under bridges

oh mama
please
forgive me

for the
alcohol
i drank
when you
told me
not to


oh please
forgive me
for being
a teenager

making
poor decisions
but
good memories
also check out my other poems! :)
Délice Apr 2020
we took the wrong turn

in turn, fate turned on us

guess we better turn back

before everything takes a turn
Ironatmosphere Mar 2020
Shouldn't someone be steering this canoe?
I am flailing in the water
tangled up in the stream

Where the hell is the captain?
I yell and I scream
Before realizing the inevitable
the captain
is me
Jay Oct 2019
I begged you to love me,
I got on my knees the first night.
I begged you to love me,
I drank for you.
I begged you to love me,
I lied for you.
I begged you to love me,
I gave you whatever you wanted when you asked.
I begged you to love me,
I walked large distances to see you.
I begged you to love me,
I changed myself for you.
I begged you to love me,
I broke promises for you.
I begged you to love me,
And you never did.
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