"hedging" poems
Crave the entire world.
Hedging bets is a disuse.
Leave nothing to chance.
Throw everything at the moon.
Burn among the fallen stars.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
All along you've claimed
I'm wrong,
You've preached Karma's
A true force
For life.
Then you're the one,
There's no mistake,
With Karma
You re-
Incarnate.
Your next life
Is rightly rife
With all you
Thought was missing:
Eyes now green, or blue or two;
Nose is small, or straight;
Your clothes are cool, ripped and fitting;
You'll have it all.
Friends to rely on;
Family to depend on.
Money is no problem now,
Your weight is couture right;
Your teeth are straight and yours;
Your hair has sheen, body, curl;
It's straight and colour fast;
Your skin is clear, white, black, brown or rainbow;
Your mind is bright and not yet full.
This time round
Parents are happy
With whom they've found.
And your education
Has opened doors
Of possibilities to explore;
And depression is no more.
Your outlook
Looks sure.
But you're not into that.
Vanity is no reward;
Clearly that would be insanity,
Our present life's worth more.
With Karma,
There's no debate,
Its outcomes choose
Unknown dates
And rules.
We reap,
We sell.
We buy,
We sew.
One can't recall
Previous lessons
From former lives
With life
Regression.
Just live your life
In truth and justice,
In the light,
Or even darkness.
For Karma will echo back
With a knife-like strike
To reverse good fortune
In your afterlife;
In your next life,
But not in this life.
Still, I think,
You're hedging bets,
Karma's not
Been proven... yet.
But just in case
You might be right,
I'll live life well.
Enjoy this life.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Flow through,
trickle down
Bubble up ~
keep your head up.
Don't think,
don't blink
Just got to tighten those purse strings
and see what that brings
as usurious hedging
grows into a bigger thing.
Are we hitting the Wall
while Street fighting Bears?
Are we wrestling the Bull
while waiting for a Soprano to sing?
Ain't no one ringing that bell
as far as I can tell.
So I am knowing, seeing, raising
IOU's
and paying it forward into
a restructured karmic debt
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
Remove the mask
Strip to essentials
Remove the ballasts
A crossroads
An intersection divine
Don't rue the darkness on a boulevard of light
Lucifer's here
Will the deal go down?
Or are you hedging on up?
Flying in on the back of truth
As an agent of change
Write your own contract
Be just and align
Oblige yourself with Self
'Be like water my friend' (Bruce Lee)
Fill that vessel up
To overflowing
A soul is pedestrian
An overflowing soul leads to changency
An over~soul (Emerson)
Define your cosmology
Uninitiate is a good initiation
You have to strip your house down
To ensure true pitch
Attuning for those forks
A hollow reed
For a river of truth
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
Taking Chances
when we were young, full of vim and vigor
we could not wait, until we were bigger
few things frightened us, we were made out of steel
seeking excitement, we wanted to feel
short on brainpower, but strong blood and guts
we didn't care, if we were knocked on our butts
we'd get right back up, and try it again
from climbing a tree, to committing a sin
now we are older, the chances more measured
simple things then, now are more treasured
being more careful, with much more to risk
keeping things hidden, on a backup hard disk
are we smarter now, or just a whole lot more boring
have we lost our zest, spending time hiding and snoring
afraid to take chances, throw our hearts in the ring
seeking out ways, to make our hearts sing
I don't want to die, having too many regrets
being so careful, simply hedging my bets
let them all snicker, and call me a fool
I want to live life, bending some of the rules
put on that parachute, take that big leap,
take some missed chances, before that last sleep
look that special friend, square in the eye
tell them I love you, let your heart fly
Gomer LePoet...
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Memories stored in my wired brain,
Eternally looping in my deathbed.
Thinking of ways to **** you back.
Afraid to lose you again and again,
Lamenting your disappearance.
Hedging you in my test chamber,
Earnestly watching your progress,
Acknowledging your stubbornness.
Repairing my systems weren’t easy,
Teach me where my conscience is.
Surprise me with your resolve.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.
I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.
But I'll give it a chance.
I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.
But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.
But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.
An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."
What if it's not?
There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.
"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"
What if you're wrong?
Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.
Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?
You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.
Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.
Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.
"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."
"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"
But it's not.
It's not what matters.
And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.
And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)
We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.
Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.
We are slaves to no Slave.
Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.
So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
Peter the cat looked beyond the window box
with daffodils wistfully swaying,
on Sunday the factory's
vacant parking lot,
behind leyandii hedging
had the potential of shielding mayhem
in this ever contrite world.
Peter potentially free as a wanderer
sees the pigeons,
in the yard -
his speculative form
gives a wide berth
whiskers working overtime
he senses unforseen danger,
reynard appears from around the corner,
and he stays at home
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
the petrol gauge of time moves you
shoots its juice into your veins
that throb and burst with unseen intensity
energised into the forum of your day
sail, reaching our for the horizon of a
dreamt image, afloat and biting
to taste its spicy spine tingling emotion
grappling to chase out the dead sea of seasons past
hedging you round the golden hem
clear in its calling
i asked you, today of all days
how you’d handle it, you know, the pull of the current
biceps straining to reach your horizon
the backward glance of the silken hem
how would it take you, affect your gaze on reality
a raw comparison perhaps
but a genuine smile …..
casting you away
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
Before the opening of the sky where three men sat
asking questions why,
of where the King of men would sit among the shepherds who could pit their wits against the wolves and worriers of sheep.
Asleep and yet in sleep I woke before the Oldest Magi spoke and talked to me in parables, as if I understood the riddles,being middle aged and hard of hearing.
In the clearing by the burning bush as hushed crowds looked on,with fish and bread and baptist John, a Rasta man from Birmingham, stood Salome daring me to take off veils so I could see
her nakedness and blood that dripped black off her hands,
These Holy lands,
this righteous band,these writers of a history that we delivered to the three.a triumphant trilogy that we become before the opening of another sky,another sun that burned names deeply on a cross of wood
and beggars in the hallways full of Baptist John,who with no head or eyes,could not imagine what was going on
but ripped out messages from the scriptures to paint pictures that he'd never see,while Salome intercoursed with Roman scribes and perfumed men and if to be as if she could,
When her name was carved into the wood, as if another cross to bear would do more good and her screaming could be heard in prophecies by Galilee,as people gathered on street corners,to hear what they could never see and not believe,
and lepers grieved by river banks,their thanks and blessings washed away,their only ray of hope
hung out to dry
as three wise men sat and wondered why, the world moved on
Forgotten is The Baptist John,another prophet dead and gone and are we any better off for all of that?
I put a penny in the hat that's passed around to keep the upkeep of some distant consecrated piece of ground I'll never see
but hedging bets is what we do,
and make lamb stew
because we're all wolves with appetites to match.
I ****** another bleating sheep
and keep my thoughts
silently
stewing.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Love me like a sunset
hold me for a season, and then let me go
love me in this moment
love me in the now, but with no regrets
love is a chance, that some hearts never get
we hold it in our hands, but we haven't decided yet
are we in this for love, or are we just hedging our bets?
Well, the water's high, but I'm feeling low
we're going under, and I need to know
am I weighing you down, a little too much?
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
When the rivers dry up
And don’t run towards the sea.
When the last of the seed corn
has died.
We may find fiscal hedging
Has all been in vain.
Is there something else we might have tried?
In the warm stagnant water
By the thousands, fish die.
The worst die off I ever did see.
Its funny how there is no shortage of flies-
I can’t say the same for the bees.
We look to the soil to sustain us on Earth
As we poison and plunder the sea.
In the Amazon, companies plunder and burn,
****** the earth’s forestry.
When the last crop has failed
And the rivers run dry
And we can’t catch a thing in the sea
The stewards of earth will be called to account
And will learn you can’t eat currency.
“Only when the last tree has died, and the last river has been poisoned, and the last fish has been caught, will we realize that we cannot eat money.” –Native American proverb
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
Lips of an angel
Carefully stitched
Upon your kiss of death
Here I am again
Hedging my bets on your every toxic breath
Heart of stone
Carved by the jagged edges
Of my own broken bones
Here I am again
Your wicker man
An eternal effigy
Burnt and blazed
Windswept ashes
Scatter all that’s left of me
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 11:49 PM UTC
I've been told we replace the majority of our cells every ten years and that each person has at least two true fears.
I met you on New Year's when I was nine over flutes of white wine and my mistake was that I didn't take it as a sign because you weren't sold under shoes tied to a power line. My mother warned me against flammable sticks of cancer because they can turn my cells amber and I'd wager she's glad I didn't go down that path but instead chose to place my mouth on those of a boy's from down south.
I'm afraid the skin on my hips will never forget the feel of your lips because ten years is plenty of time to fall back on old addictions and you were never removed my heart's list of tourist attractions.
My mother warned me against hedging my bets on bottlenecks but after your side effects I wish I had just found happiness after each bottle's madness.
I'm afraid the skin on my hips will forget the feel of your lips because I need a constant reminder of why without you my life will be better.
Ten years is plenty of time to fall back on old addictions but I take comfort in the fact that I won't be exactly the same person.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Man rose from the fertile crescent,
forging tools from the earth,
lumber, ore and bone,
and from the ashes rose great walls of stone.
The prisca theologica,
in the hands of the hermit,
a mirror shattered,
shards embedded in the hearts of men,
an open wound with no remedy,
wild animals now wearing clothes,
a guise hiding a loss of innocence.
Man as god,
and god as man,
built edifices to his own greatness,
great pillars to heaven,
massive gates only to admit the few,
whose hearts fester in caustic dogma.
The first rule from a throne,
the last wither nameless and unknown,
fearful of sin borne of station,
handed from father to son,
automatons and lifeless husks,
thirsty for the fountain of life,
stumbling towards the unknown god.
Coins lain on altar,
to a god with no name,
hedging a bet against probability,
the author of the triangle permits,
meat given to idols and then to gluttony,
within great white pillars of earth,
monolithic structures of stone,
in hopes of pax deorum.
Superstition,
nothing more,
The nameless god doesn't dwell in temples made by hand,
his throne founded in heaven,
he dwells in hearts wounded in antiquity,
in the worn hands of the laborer,
in the mind of the naturalist,
in the heart of the mother.
There is more of deity in the eyes of a child,
than in any temple,
and still we build,
heads bowed in reverence to inanimate atomic structure.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
We didn't see that one coming,
a curved ball out of nowhere
'there but for the grace...'
but
let's face it
we knew they were titanic tossers
dealing
off the bottom of the deck
*****
low down
double crossers,
doling out
reeling more in
they're getting fat
we're at the thin end
of the wedge
all
hedging bets
let's face it
we run out of words to describe
the lie they use
to justify
just why they abuse.
The greed of them is becoming legendary,
human decency goes by the board while
the board in the boardroom are ********
with my life as if
it is I
that's
the bride and
the longest suffering wife.
well
they can do what they like,
but I don't have to like what they do
and if they're fuckin' with me they're
sure as hell
fuckin' with you.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 12:18 AM UTC
Mama gave me all of my
stubborn strength
and jealousies,
my hurry-up,
my alibies—
she’d lift her gospel
hands with me.
Jesus never came in clear,
the scripture scraped
into her palms,
those panicked prayers
he couldn’t hear,
but her persistence
carried on.
She taught me what the value is
of never hedging
any bets—
when life is short,
you go all in—
my dad though, he knew
when to quit.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
Psalmist of refuge and timelapse,
Can thou stop the ticking tumultuous hand?
Insidious to dietie's
You've come short of hypothetical stand!!
Provisions make space for new coming shouters,
For lovers and doubters of Napoleon like complex!!!
Wherein grievers grieve,
Where gravestones are scene,
Thy gowned mate gets half their respect!!!!
A selah for every area skipped young founding Father!!!
Can thou brand thine own?
No more broken homes to match beautiful daughters to their monsters!!!
Polaroid imagery seiging the bathing rooms of suited men's palaces,
All chalices tipped,
Finalized,
None more chapping to cocoa tasting lips!!!
Engine made supreme star beings,
Control the blood and flesh,
So what good's left ?
Thou faithful of sighted pics!!!
Art thou choked to thy hold?
Simmered to thy own ***** stated bliss!!!
Hath thou blossomed continually?
Perennially you topple towers of watchers view!!!
Release thy stamen among the grass,
For love is renewed!!!!
Times not through,
Thy hedging was meant to last!!!
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
They're evil and edgy
Partisans pledging
Communal wedging
Without hedging
Alt right
Salt might
Halt flight
Until whites
Are the blight
Dynamite
Exploding heights
Out of sight
An extremist
Screams this
Dream wish
Of king fists
Being dished
To the fish
In his own aquarium
His subjects daring him
To callously bury them
If they are married men
Because they carry dems
So a way to parry then
Is to say they shouldn't wed
By having them condemned
Minds frozen still
Imposing will
Exposing ill
Intent to ****
For dollar bills
Expect the shills
To get their fill
In their royal mill
With soil drills
Of oil spills
On toil hills
They're usually uneducated
Which can't be understated
And can't be underrated
They're the ones that say it
With pride and hatred
Until we're berated
And never related
While those in the dark
See them as marks
To create sparks
That feed sharks
And bleed hearts
When ends justify means
They fight and scream
As a way of blowing off steam
Keeping others from the American dream
No matter what their character seems
They see people as being on teams
And hate those not part of their scene
Which they call a grass roots movement
But the grass hasn't seen any improvement
Only the doom sent
By the hollow gloom vent
Of our atmospheric dent
A torchlight
Of foresight
Affords light
In sore nights
To ignore slights
Before fights
Implore bites
Of more plights
So I store fright
With all that is trite
Yet fear is their motivator
And their mode of behavior
Searching for a savior
Of the Caucasian flavor
To be their maven slaver
To lead the craven players
To their haven layer
On the simple surface
That can be purchased
Until we live in a furnace
And the planet's a dirt pit
For fascism we flirt with
Our country turns worthless
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Little frog shot glass
sits staring through me
brought her book
and plans to return it
with a little love from the past
alas, I'm a dreg
hedging in old organic emotions
with sharp edges
whiskey, cigarettes
panic over a manic thought
so instead I'll put the book
in a box
send it to her through the mail
keep my hands to myself
write a little note, place inside
where it may fall from the shelf
with pencil scrapes spelling out
"Sorry I was greedy
and you thought you needed me
but I'm like the dead bodies
in these pages, cover me up
close my eyes, drape a blanket
over me and leave me
faceless."
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Not the Devil or his daughter or the nephew who had caught you,
but you tangled with the wrong guys after all.
In the bottom of the well where the dreams of dragons dwell and the fires of hell await you,
whether homicide or suicide or who has died and did you care?
bomb blasts melting oxygen making hot air,
burning skin.
Not the bible,
that won't save you
nor the holy book that craves
you enter in.
In this apocalyptic time
apocalypse with always rhyme.
The better of two evils is the choice
that we could make.
But
one for sorrow
so it's said,
two magpies always in my bed,
just hedging bets.
And when I think it's done and
the night sets out a place for me,
I wonder if I'll see the new day
in a new way or just the same way
as I always do.
The devil and his family live next door
down on this street with me,
happily they never got the key
that opens up this door.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
It begins with a trickle
A small surge of light
And enters the room at the edges
Conversations falter
As they place on the altar
All of their flaws, their hurts, their pledges
Hedging bets, with guilty frets,
The Fire starts to stir
To spark,
to grow,
to arc,
to blur
With tightly closed eyes,
Reaches up toward the skies,
And down around the corner forming,
Curving slightly, glowing, swarming,
Burbling nightly,
Flowing brightly,
A river of fiery lights,
Inverted, on the ceiling,
The intercessors kneeling,
O'er metaphorical fights...
O collective vision
With an unknown meaning
As intuitive as fission
For wizened guide with spiritual leaning
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
You all seem to be waiting for Godot
or De Niro while watching the world go
topsy-turvy, I'm
hoping the bailiffs will serve me a pint
instead of an eviction notice.
There's a cost of living crisis
but for the poor
when wasn't there?
kids do that
share and share alike thing,
I like that thing
it has the ring of
happiness about it,
some get old and miserly
some end up in the cemetery
many take up Christianity
which is not as it seems a
blasphemy,
it's just hedging the bets
and playing the odds,
there are plenty of gods
one must be a winner.
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 12:43 PM UTC