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To get back
in the game,
I need one
good hit.
A horse with
early lick;
that has more
heart than
Joe Louis
and Jake
I need decent odds,
at least 8-1.
The racing
gods have to
smile on me
one more time.
At least for
6 furlongs,
and then baby,
I'm back in the
I've gone walking
In the midst
Of memories
And I lost myself

There's so much
To go through
Smiles, phrases, faces
Moments, people, places...

I've gone walking
Redeemed and tuned
There is nothing that we can do
Caged we pay the price,
And feel the spin of the dice
Tumbling in our own shoot.
Stuck on the actual prime meridian
where gambling and grown up shenanigans
are viewed all *****
hurting society, though I could legally go to the drain on my street
and drop a thousand twenty pees in it
nae bother
our equivalent bet
as high rollers we are surely not

I miss you Vegas
with your daft anti-reality cushions,
the strip with no history or heritage
but with goofy drunken dreams brimming alive

and I know vice, bad, horror, addiction yadda yadda

I miss you Vegas
Damien Jan 21
When I sit down in front of the mirror,
deal a hand,
(once for me, once for me)
I find my opponent’s face to be unreadable.
And I win,
(I do every time we play)
And I throw my cards down in front of me
taking back the chips I’d raised.
Again, I face the loser
surprised by the bitterness on their face
(though I really should expect it by now)
And this time I wonder:
is it worth winning
if you always lose?
Anais Vionet Jan 1
This is the viral solstice and I am liberty’s gambler.
What would I give to taste the fresh air of freedom?


Thaw-out that space-cold hope and puncture me – please.
God blesses the poets to write of such miracles.
is it gambling if you know you're going to win?
Sydney Hafner Sep 2020
It started in the kitchen
and the walls still hold the feeling of still existing troubles
you were worried about,
so I went out with just half a pack of smokes to fix it
Well I came home to you in the kitchen
and confessed I was now
3 paychecks down
and had been laid off four months ago
Although your tears made my knees weak
and I had to step outside,
I was still feeling pretty lucky
discomfort in fulfilling our hopes
hesitance in facing our fears
where do we draw the line
between living and being alive
if our actions speak louder than our words
how do we measure sound
in the face of death
why do we let her down
in knowing that we never settled
bets with our hearts
gambling our existence away
basing our worth in cards
dealt by someone else
concrete in our stubborn ways
when do we realize
changing habits has no price
yet the highest cost
but we still refuse to pay
for debts we acquire
and complain about the weather
until our bodies collapse
William de klerk Jul 2020
Isn't it ironic that
Silence screams so loud
we drown out the sound
and pray the voices pipe down
" they don't sound like me anymore
  they won't go away and each day
  a demented voice pulls me under
  and now I wonder...
which way is up?"

Isn't it ironic how
playing cards can cut
like a razor blade
and red dice rolling
become an evil eye that winks.
Does that cloth
on a tricky table
feel as soft
as the lining on a nearby coffin?

Isn't it ironic
when love's soft touch
devolves into lust
and broken hearts
disintegrate into rust,
when a silent embrace
becomes an empty bed
but that void only deepens
when we cheapen
our body and soul
to feel whole
for a mere moment.

Isn't it ironic
we want a world
so far from reality
we blur the one we have
as we snort, smoke and swallow
our problems away
only for them to return
on a much darker day.

A hundred vices
**** a thousand men
and in solidarity we stand.
Let one brave soul say
I have been bitten by these...
and more
so many more!
Let me lean on you brother
Let me comfort you sister
Let us stumble forward together!
Vices break so many, but grow in the dark as they take and take and don't ever give back. We stew in our sickness and stand alone instead of reaching out.
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