Hole
1.🥚
2.🐣
3.🐓
4.🦃
5.🐔
6.🦆
7.🦤
8.🦉
9.🐧
10.🦩
11.🦋
12.🦜
13.🦚
14.🕊
15.­🦢
16.🐦
17.🦅
18.🐥

Final Score:🪶

Bowlers are rolling *****,
***** they call bowling *****,
Striking the bowling pins,
Making them rolling pins.

The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it,
It's stuck in my racquet.

I toss the sack.
It's kicked around.
I get it back.
We get a hack.
It hits the ground.
'Skeeters attack.

~
This forbidden city
walks on water,
keeps all the undesirables at bay,
it's always a balancing act.

Oh, blighted court
of Catherine the Great,
thy friends are having a hard time,
but horsing around, no less.

Enlightened by summer drugs,
and busting out of
their tops and castles,
thongs on thy feet,
and thongs on thy bottoms,
this zenith and this nadir
come in colorful collages,
everything else is a flash of flesh.

Sped along by
frequent bloodletting,
there's a revolution in
thy teenage mind,
a looking for the hidden
and interested motives,
but no one can live
their life on the skis.

Rulership of heart is far
from recreation,
but you raised
a smile to sin,
until all we could do was
shake our heads and laugh.
~

Does the water reflect a piece of the sky?
In the photo I took,
I see the double transformation—
sky,
water,
digitalization.

One thought wrapped in excess words
fails to reveal stillness or truth.

It exists and doesn’t—
just one path in what we interpret.

Certainty distorts facts.
Time tangles itself.

A timeline slipping unnoticed
between belief and seductive hypnosis.

What was once conviction fades into a mirage.
Unveiled words build unyielding walls.
Communication is lost
the moment before the first word
is spoken.

I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.
Wind whispering through my skeleton,
They tell lies to the young sprouts of the forests.
Convince them that not only is life a foolish game,
It's a foolish game they're losing.
An old soul, I stood tall watching poets come,
Then I began to wilt as I watched poets go.
The eyes that once admired my growth,
Turned to fingerprints and memory.
My bark is riddled with stories,
All the lovers that made a promise on my skin,
Leaving the now grim scars of foreshadowing.
I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.

When you play Magic; The Gathering,
You gotta understand what color you are inside,
That way you can play your color better.
You could be white like the plains,
Focused on order and loyalty,
Keeping a tight fist on your life.
You could be black like a swamp,
Willing to give anything,
To obtain everything.
You could be blue like an island,
Logical and cold,
Doing the hard job of saying no.
You could be red like a mountain,
Fiery and bold,
Ready to rage out on your enimies.
You could be green like a forest,
Big and boisterous,
Here for the friends and things.

Show a little finesse, place a bet.
You’re just in time for the game, get some skin, the fix is in.

What’s more American than cashing in?
The real winners do, and now that could be you.

With suckers out there waiting, scamming is as easy as creating
an NFT, bitcoin, an online bet or a romance baiting.

You’ll be a witness, as the wise guys step in, for the NFL it’s a win-win
You get the excitement you need and the real playas get the proceeds.

Come on, Mr slick ricky, you know you’ve got to be bold to win gold
winners double-down, they never fold—the thrill never gets old.

The winners will add your measly bucks to their ***.
Let's admit, all you’ve got, isn’t a lot - it wouldn’t, say, fuel a yacht.

So, step up, place your bets, you’re in the digital front row all the time,
don’t be lame, be part of the game, it’s greasy, ******, organized crime.
.
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A song for this:
Vicious Games by Yello
The Game of Love (feat. Michelle Branch) [Main/Radio Mix] by Santana