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maria Sep 14
Instructions
N.1: get used to dictatory
N.2: if everything looks to be good something's wrong get a crisis card
N.3: pawns of criticism are the strong enough
N.4: paths leading to heaven are closed -if you try to find the key you just realise that there's no hope-
N.5: levels are getting sillier -don't even try to show you're smart-
N.6: put a post of your score on instagram
N.7: be fake -they somehow love you-
N.8: wear a mask

_

if you chose to continue
It's on your own risk
the good has left the chat
no one really wins
In a fake world
Try your best
Don't get sad if it doesn't work

Written on September 15, 2020
Sumedh Jul 24
Set foot, in the world of cards,
Try to build a house, watch it turn to shards.
It's easy to be deceived, better perfect your arts,
For the card you hold dear to you,
Might not be your queen of hearts.
The entire poem is a metaphor and the reader can find his/her own meaning out of it. But can you find the real meaning behind this poem?
Hint: It's absolutely not about Cards.
Births sin, deliverance of death.
Blooded eyes view chaos. Jagged
Order. Smile at the view and take in the ecstasy
Fates whim deals a losing hand. But play you must.
The life of cards is a winning man’s loss.
Count the hearts turning to clubs. Feel the sharp of the diamond.
Sail on the sea of spades. The house grins.
A jokers trade, inevitability for certainty
Suckle from the table that slaps you with strife
Nuzzle teats of treachery and take your fill.
Soon you’ll be grown, suit and tie.
The house always wins
Binx Jul 1
queen sized bed
I was just a joke
and you the king of lies.
a coward holds the lovers card upright in his hand
told them both he’d take to the promise land
torn between two queens, all confused
didn’t want to leave any of them bruised.

a naive youngster held the fool in reverse
fell for all the tricks and games was the curse
she gave in full but took none, always came at second best
time wasted being used, finding out again she was just the guest.
misfortune-telling
a man afraid to choose so he led both on because he didn't want to hurt any
a woman believed him and she was always an option but never the choice
you weren’t there
so I went on asking
cards questions
each word a plea
for something else
and in return
each image printed
in monochrome blue
offered an answer
you would have hated,
but each one
sour against my tongue
sounded more honest
than your praise.
I've always stood alone; a go-between
what then, if I'm covered by lustrous gleam?
I may fall through your fingers like hair;
thin and flimsy, please handle with care.
Within conclusion, my innocence could wreck;
corners bent, I'd shuffle back into the deck.
We play the game, but never win.
I'm built for one - not two, or ten.
In the face of men, I remain a queen
a lonely victor, impeccably clean.
annh Jun 2
I
may
play the
joker, *****
the knave, covet
the queen, and tuck
the ace of spades under my
pillow on a ringed moon night,
but I am forever shuffling the same
deck of cards. Marked cards, imprinted
with loss and patterned with misfortune. Co
urt cards dressed in ill-fitting suits, each face as
familiar as my own. Four seasons, four pips; twelve
months, twelve crowns. One card for each week of the
year. Sequentially pred  ictable, and as underwhelming
as a rigged roulette wheel. U ntil, unable to distinguish
between the red and the    b    lack, the picture and the
plain, I fold. Void of      co     ntracts, and bleeding
widowe                            d blanks.
.....So.....
deal­ me in,
but deal me unpainted
and unmastered. Deal me clean.

‘If I can just have one last cut.
Do you have a plan for the new?‘
- Alice Notley, In the Pines
Tight and tortuous spaces slowly starve a once brilliant flame.
Reduced to vicious gasping as a faint flicker fades,
****** fists do all but break through these cold concrete walls
That darken ever so slowly.
Quick heavy breaths of precious vapour
like limp light from a dying flame,
Will soon be  little more than an impossible choice.

Would it's warmth justify a shorter struggle
Or should I ***** the flame
And endure this creeping cold.
With more time these blows and bashes
May crack these newly red walls.
Still, gambling Men may suffer in vain
But even a fool sees with they could obtain
So let me grab my dice,
And clutch my cross as I roll
to clash against these crooked cards.
TheKindling Apr 12
One plus one makes two,

One me. One you.

Two plus two makes four,

Two lovers. One *****.

Never again count me in,
When you cheat at cards, neither win.

You cut me deep, you sliced so thin.

You provoked, Seven deadly sins.

Six feet under.

No where to run.

Five more minutes.
BeFour I come.

Three quarters cocked, my two barreled gun.

One thing in mine,

Zero regret.
Not a real event. Just a poem :)
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