A chip, a chance Same deck of cards Bet. All in with a poker face I saw through you Now you lost me You didn’t even have me at all You got it all twisted from the start Thinking I’d fall for your game Pulling the same exact card on everyone But I’m not just anyone— I’m someone— Who couldn’t and wouldn’t be played the Joker. I’m a Queen waiting for my King.
To strum this guitar is for naught. Strumming the strum of the guitar of the guitar. The the guitar is for naught. For naught is the strum. Strumming strum strummy in the strum of the of the guitar.
Would she be enticed? She would be strumming. Would she be be strumming the strum of the guitar? She would not be the the strum. I strum the D and the A strums the B and it all comes to the G string. Would I not if I did strum the G if I strummed it so?
Shall I have a glass of jack and coke? If I should not should I strum the G of the jack of the jack and the coke? Should she be she be not? Do I dare to entice? If I should dare to not should should I find the jack?
I should call should I call if I do if I don’t? What have I to do but strum and strum and drink and drink and think of the flat note? I will call. Will it pickup?
The taste of Jack is acquired it is. It is acquired and acquired and not for her. She’s a rosé and what can it be that a cheap whisky can amount to a fine wine? It cannot and I cannot. I cannot and will I call will I again?
Will I strum strum the gun of the sun? Will I find the gun will it find the sun and will it it will not find her?
How about a game of poker? I play a mean game a game I play. Please please do play with me. If you would please then please oblige. If not then please do. If do it would make all of it worth it.
Flush. 2 of a kind. Full House Royal flush.
It is midnight I should be off. Off I shall just strum and never bother. Never shall I bother and never shall I be bothered. Again.
I wasn't on drugs when I wrote this, but I sure felt like I was.
I made this poem in the style of Gertrude Stein. It was for an extra credit assignment in my Humanities class.
He put his heart on the poker table ‘he’s all in’ his face grim and unquavering, he thinks he’s able but the cards are stacked against him he plays all moves but the joker beleaguers his fingers they use his mind as a bullet practice board wearing their bullet proof vest so they’re well protected He’d been on a scorching quest for disaster was given a tepid glass of love in return
They said his heart was a Rubik’s cube in a Swiss bank so he pulled the funds out took the risk rather than being a ******* He spends his heart on love, he realises its like a cigarette loaded with regret rather than nicotine so he took a cue, formed his heart back to a Rubik’s cube and put in a Swiss bank in the maze house
We used to play cards on Tuesday nights in the small office of a used car lot. I would look at the old beaters as they came in. Wonder what their stories were. Who drove them. Where they had travelled and what they had seen. “All rust and dust” my friend used to say. As they age their value goes down. Which is what some folks think about people. But really, the opposite is true. My friend would ask why I played cards with those old geezers. He didn’t get it. Many people don’t. I just told him I always win. It was true. Not in terms of money. But in everything else I got from those guys. Stories Wisdom Laughs. One old guy used to cheat like a *******. I let him get away with it. I hope when I get old somebody cuts me some slack.
Rock’n’roll radio died Between gasoline riffs I love Texan poker She smiled with classic liquors Realise that I want your lips Gamble success where strangers bleed Roadside taboo Lay bare, please, I want to give you one hot date