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rig Oct 2020
9
a flash of darkness cuts the sky gray;
the rain paints a trail so slight of smoke,
and gone: in the beat of a scaled heart.
inside the cave there is a storm outside:
the beast: regal, amongst crushing rocks;
the night: celebrating an absence.
time will ease the return of the fire;
turn a watered down death into life.
gods reborn astride the dragon: fly!
Elias J Davidson Aug 2020
tried to clean your grave
again today. i miss you.
i was only three.

he blames you, you know,
for something you said to him
when he was sixteen:

"make her come back home;
don't come back until you do.
go get your mother."

he didn't talk back.
"you didn't do that back then."
1983.

instead, he broke down
thinking you abandoned him
just like that woman.

i know you loved him.
i know you were a good man.
something ****** you up.

whatever it was,
it was speaking through you then,
that unholy ghost.

he never heard me,
only thoughts to argue with
when i was that age.

i absolve you both
though i struggle to do so.
christe eleison.
August 2020
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Pool's Prince Charming
by Michael R. Burch

this is my tribute poem, written on the behalf of his fellow pool sharks, for the legendary Saint Louie Louie Roberts

Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool,
making all the ladies drool ...
Take the “nuts”? I'd be a fool!
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool.

Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis,
owner of (ahem) a similar pelvis ...
Compared to you, the books will shelve us.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis.

Louie, Louie, fearless gambler,
ladies' man and constant rambler,
but such a sweet, loquacious ambler!
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler.

Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic,
pool's charming hero, but tragic, Byronic,
winning the Open drinking gin and tonic?
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic.

NOTE: If you like my tribute you are welcome to share it, but please credit me as the author, which you can do by copying the title and subheading. I used poetic license about what Louie Roberts was or wasn't drinking at the 1981 U. S. Open Nine-Ball Championship. Was Louie drinking hard liquor as he came charging back through the losers' bracket to win the whole shebang? Or was he just pretending to drink for gamesmanship or some other reason? I honestly don't know. As for the word “chthonic,” it’s pronounced “thonic” and means “subterranean” or “of the underworld.” And the pool world at its worst can be very dark indeed, as Louie’s tragic demise suggests. But everyone who knew Louie seemed to like him, if not love him dearly, and many sharks have spoken of Louie in glowing terms, as a bringer of light to that underworld. Keywords/Tags: pool, shark, billiards, nine ball, Saint Louie Roberts, gambler, hustler
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2019
Today flipped through my 10th grade journal
Stumbled upon a list
My greatest desires at the time
Things for which I most wished

The first and only thing written
To find someone who loves me
Tells me I'm beautiful every day
When I look and act ugly

Here I am nine long years later
Blessed with that guy
I am still unhappy
Don't know why
True story
Jules Oct 2019
I can't control your life
You can't let go of mine
Waiting
Hating
What's left in my mind
You seem to cross my memory
If I choose close my eyes
Forever
I'll see
What's next on the other side
Yet I'm left in ponder
It's only half passed nine
But it feels like a century
Like the beginning of time
Since you said goodbye
If six were nine
And Jimi Hendrix a nun
Would nine be none
Null and nil ?
And if sixth were ninth
And Jimi Hendrix a ninja
Falling like a sun into the sea mountains
on Ninety-null street
The world famous Quatre-vingt-dix-nullième rue
Would you mind ? Would you mind ?
Would you mind if September stopped to exist
And all the dead of September came back from Null None or Nil
And Jimi Hendrix were seventy-six.
Starry Aug 2019
I want to know you hurt me as a lover
I want to know why your hurt innocent people
Who did your people no wrong
Why do you have to hurt innocent children girls
For what
Jihad???!!
Islam????!!!
The hippocratic oath????!!
More like jihadist oath.
Sketcher Jul 2019
There was a man that sang in rhyme,
Every time he found a dime,
But by the time that he found nine,
He’d forget how to rhyme,
Then go back in time to rhyme,
Until he found another nine.
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