"dealed" poems
The past participle of deal is dealt;
Thus, when the cards fall is when it is felt.
A deck of cards knows its own unsealer
as well as the skill and art of the dealer.
Trump cards, (although not normally plural)
are to share. The enjoyment is jural.
We hope they are more than dealed incitements:
those fifty-five thousand sealed indictments . . .
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
It started as a joke we all laughed at the thought
of slanging coke
or passing cops with a whole bag of thizz
cheesing out ya window, just like Andre and Mac Dre in the Bay and Valley Joe
But now the game got real
I'm broke and choked for skrill (skreel) and this sandwich place can't even contend with the dough I'd make if I dealed
But who could I trust and who would squeal, make me have to peel out in my whip as I dipped
moved cribs and changed homies
Do I have a soul of a drug dealer or one for slapping on pepperoni to a sandwich for another zombie
Do I have the soul of a drug dealer?
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
You told me about the time he ***** you
how he got you drunk first so you couldn’t fight back
how he ripped your clothes off and covered your mouth
but he couldn’t block the scream that tore from your lips when he… when he… when...
When someone else kicked down the door and beat him ******
you finally blacked out
and woke up crying because you still knew it happened.
You told me about what came after
he named it Belle, after his favorite Disney princess
how she was going to be smart like you, and aggressive like him.
she was going to be his little girl.
you couldn’t stomach her, it, that,
couldn’t name it because giving it a name made it real
so you didn’t, you ended it, that, her,
and called it nothing, except “a grand down the wrong hole”
It made me cringe to hear you say that.
You told me about the drugs
how you forgave each other and found a higher power
******
He dealed, so you dealed, he used so you used
he got in a beef with a rival dealer so you got shot
you tried to get out so he found you two a better god,
****
You told me it lasted four years
before your brother found out
locked you in a motel room
and watched you writhe and scream and die
how when it was over you felt love for the first time in forever
and it was bliss.
You told me about the breakup
how he waited for you after school
grabbed you and knocked you out
how you woke up chained to a bed
naked, gagged, alone with him
how he spent the week torturing you
shocking, beating, cutting, hitting… touching
how he split town after.
Then you told me you lied
he never existed.
You spent a year convincing me I was fixing a girl scarred by the most damning of men
only to tell me that the only broken thing about you was your word.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
I am the chip off the block
Bloodstock
A shock to the staid
The life of the laid back.
'I
..am alright Jack'
National health
International wealth
I have the key to it all
The cards just need to fall..
..lucky.
In these shambles this rambler makes believe
That this gambler can achieve..
..Immortality.
Immaturity in this..though, this next deal I can't miss..
Four aces.
Three places away..Tens and the way out is sealed.
The cards have been dealed
Hard as it seems
I have to undress my dreams and put them to bed
Then the next thought occurs..the ball's landing in red..
..and I'm fed up..to my back teeth
Which is known locally as bad gamblers grief.
Take a chip off this old block and place it on odds
Fate and those other sods conspire
To make me perspire...it comes up an eight..
..blasted fate.
I'm going to go to a rehab
Have a stab at normality
Another form of immortality?
Let's see.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
Dear people, what have you done to the dream?
I stood with so much pride
As the votes were counted one by one,
My heart burst with love as the exiles returned
And my soul was fired with the desire
To fulfil our destiny and return the land
Once again into an oasis of hope.
But what have you done to the dream?
Where is the love the unity and hope?
What have you done to my dream when your sons
Who serve in the army fear that their bullet will strike down
An angry stone wielding youth so full of hate because
Your hearts have become hardened to his needs.
I have walked this land in my dreams
And have seen what we could have had
A heaven on earth, but what have we got?
A land so full of intolerance not only of enemy against enemy
But of brother against brother.
Money has become G-d, and the banks, temples of worship.
No more is it what can I give, but rather what can I get.
I have walked this land in the guise of an immigrant-
And have taken the 'rights' given to me.
I have walked this land in the guise of an old person,
And have felt the fear of being unwanted and unloved.
And I have closed my heart,
And have lost my ability to give love freely.
I have walked this land in the guise of boys and girls
Who have borne the responsibility of the army
But have mourned my lost youth.
I have closed myself to my sensitive heart .
And I have walked this land in the guise of men
And women burdened by the system.
The path seems an uphill fight to survive.
I have walked this land in the guise of a politician ,
Offering the solution - only if done my way.
To survive I have wheeled and dealed
And have almost forgotten how to make miracles happen
It is only when crisis strikes and I forget myself,
And remember my brothers and sisters
That I go within and draw from the fountain of strength,
And get a glimpse, once again of what
We as a nation of brothers and sisters can create.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
Why do we keep coming back to the same thing?
The wounds are indeed fresh, but there is no need to spread them.
We talked about it, we dealed with it.
So why do we have to keep dealing with the past again?
I love you.
I am yours and you are mine.
Nothing minor is gonna change that.
Every shipwreck we can get over, together.
I ain't leaving you for anything and you know that.
You said the same thing to me.
Yet, we keep coming back to this.
Did it really leave such a big scar?
Did you start questioning my trust and loyalty?
Do I need to prove myself to you?
We both know I shouldn't need to, but I'll do it for you anyway.
Why...
Why is it so hard for you to love me?
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 7:08 AM UTC
I have this pound of clay, but I've never been much of an artist,
And trying to make something beautiful alone, that's the hardest,
My fingers don't work and my eyes are too old,
My hearts forever aching and my soul has been sold,
But maybe a new vision could guide my hands a new way,
As I try to, I used to think manipulate, but you showed me work with my hunk of that clay,
But I've always been scared to ask for your help,
I've always been scared to ask for anything, so I dealed with what I was dealt,
But it doesn't really work, trying to be completely alone,
Because to everyone you're a stranger, and you'll lose what was home,
I think it's time I stopped being a vagabond in my own heart,
So please will you help me? Because I want to make someone, anyone, realize what's always been true, to see this clay as art
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC