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Jo Aug 2014
our lives are all lotteries.
a game of chance,
at best.
we have all succumbed to it,
gambled our freewill away.
to those who haven't,
who are still unchained,
it calls
sit down at the table,
let me deal you a hand

read the fine print
young man,
for once you sit,
you may never leave
Paddy Martin Nov 2010
Dear Expectation,

What can I say to you,
that you don't expect to hear.
You seemed to have had me covered,
evey step of the way so far, my dear.

How many times have I been left,
languishing in total despair,
Thinking things were a certain way,
but never seeing you hiding there.

How about the girl who thought,
I was her knight on a white horse,
and I turned out to have clay feet,
you laughed you head off, of course.

I fell in love with "The girl next door",
How wonderful it was all going to be,
only to find out her other seven boyfriends,
all laughing and they were laughing at me.

All those millions in the lotteries,
All those none home run hits.
No, Expectations, I've had enough,
I think  it's time to call it quits.

(c) 5th November 2010.
Sad faces
Indiscreet dreams
Platitudes and penance.

Secluded thoughts
Glimpses of posterity
Legacies and lotteries.

Tributes to the dead
Blasphemous flowers
Anonymity and indifference.
Dream Fisher Jul 2019
A hundred marbles in dish,
A chance of fate to question with.
Fifty red and fifty white,
Fifty for my death and fifty for my life.
I close my eyes and extend my hand to reach,
My fingers brush the glass of each.
Afraid to look at either outcome,
If I see white, I breath for them.
If I see red, they agree with me, this is the end.

With sweat forming at my brow,
Three. Two. One. I open them now
It's red like crimson, red like birth.
Read like the paper that spoke my worth.
The rope behind was tied,
My fate was made as was mind.
It's time.

Thirty seconds I hung,
Thirty's seconds the rope did snap.
Questioning why they put me back
I guess lotteries play games like that.
Inspired by Duma Key by Stephen King
Shawn Mar 2013
though we try to escape
this unkempt world
with its busy streets,
yelling men on street corners,
random outbursts from the impoverished,
advertisements peddling
face creams and running shoes
and lotteries and fried foods,
the noise of it all,
what silence do we hope to escape to?

a beach with sunset?
i can hear the wind
against the trees, the splashing
of these waves before me,
the birds, they're calling their
night songs, i hear laughing in
the distance,

what of empty church?
i hear the echoing of my footsteps,
the creaking of aged wooden benches,
and if i concentrate,
i hear the gentle flicker
of that row of candles, the
***** rings of past hymns,

what of padded isolation cells?
panic rooms, artificial solitude?
cling to them like supermen
only for emergent use,
close your eyes,
let the black envelop you,
meditate, if you know how,
relax, beyond earthly possessions...

when that mind begins to wander,
as it does, it's mandatory,
hear that voice inside your head,
telling you to stay focused?

telling yourself to stay focused
only starts the spin of things:

and then you hear the beat
of drums, african tribal rhythms,
or phil collins at the start of
"in the air tonight"
or the strings, is that pachabel?
i hear the start of "the sound of silence"
as if my mind is mocking me,
i hear the voice of my mother,
there's my father,
they're beside me and it's christmas,
i hear nat king cole,
i hear the sound
of knife through turkey,
i hear laughter,
it's yours,
i hear the sound of my
fingers as they run along your skin
and get tangled in your hair,
i hear a heartbeat,
direct through chest, then through
bell of stethoscope, i hear
the rocko's modern life theme song,
i hear thunder, i hear rain,
i hear the splashing of my shoes,
i hear the gravel, i hear cars,
i hear the city, the random beeping
indicating when to cross,
the sound of garbage being thrown out,
of doors opening, slamming,
metal against metal,
i hear applause,
after successful landing,
i hear recycled air above me,
i hear it all,

everything is right here,
there's no such thing as silence,
and that shouldn't be a problem,
in fact, i think it's beautiful.
Jason L Rosa Mar 2017
Let me tell you
about this crazy dream I had

I looked over at you and smiled again
You put your head on my shoulder
We've been watching the cars pass
Through the streets of the city
Like stars falling from our galaxy

Ever have those moments when
time
slows
down?
Everything gets quiet
And my eyes felt like they opened
for the first time
And i felt music and art and poetry
for the first time
And my ears could only hear our
heart beats in sync
And your breathing

This was one of those moments
Like the first time I met you

We played connect the dots with the stars
And drew each other pictures of the future
I felt your grip get tighter around my hand
And I couldnt help but belt out a laugh

Can you believe it?  
Of all the particles of matter
And molecules of life
Of landscapes
And creatures
And people
And planets
And timing
And chances
We slammed into each other
Like we've always been en route
For this crash.

And like two fireworks
We took the sky and stole the moment
In a wild display it took my whole life to perfect
I would do what I could to see you shine
the brightest
I went through years of fuses and duds and restarts,
sparks and false starts just for this moment when
You ignite me to the potential I never knew was there

See, your best brings out my best,
And the more I can do for you will enrich me.

Your warmth is something I didn't know was possible
Until it was.

You are proof that lotteries
aren't only won in monetary jackpots
And hearts aren't only made for
Beating in a singular rhythm  
But in a drum line to a symphony.

We danced in our own company
And your lips dropped breadcrumbs
across my body
So you'd find your way back up to my kiss.
I've never felt lips burn so deep like yours do
You left gulches on my neck with your breath
And dug out safe places
where you will always be welcomed.

Let me tell you
I wake up to sleep now.
I Love You, goodnight.
martin challis Jan 2015
complete insanity       and time ignoring the clock ticking       backwards
and forwards a child shunting a cart full of       blocks tumbling      down a cliff       face at the window  where I see a river running through   to the end of year specials where christmas    cake always made with old dough before baking should be let to        rise and fall of the capitalist       approach to sand mining in Kakadu and lead poisoning in tuna       fishing on the lake before breakfast slapping at mosquito’s exploited by greed overcoming the rest of us who are just as hungry and        waiting at the table where i’ve waited for       days has nothing to do       with me can we please take the attention off me        it’s all i ever       here and there is a way forward follow me this way        down children in the deep dark woods lived a little dwarf with a pocket full of thumbs cut from little boys who didn’t keep their noses clean and out of somebody       else’s business to come here today and talk to you about the theory of relative *******       which as you know was discovered by Captain Jimmy the cook or Captain courageous Columbus or Hugo weaving    its way into history before being    put out to pasture to grow fat in a paddock full of Nowegian Wood       isn’t it good that your father is coming home after all these years i’ve waited        so long  for the time to wait       for a cup of tea would be very nice       thankyou very much for coming ladies and       gentlemen please start your       engines of the new age       old methods of brewing       handed down to you on a platter and what do you do you throw it back in our faces       made of broken glass shattered by the news crowds stand outside the palace for days mourning the nations       lossst and found is this way sir broken feet repaired daily  broken hands twice daily  broken hearts sir that’s down the hallway second door on the left in the cliche department sir   thank you sir your time has come i’m sorry it had to end this way      look i’m sorry       enough of that sir       button up       there’s a good chop to the bottom of the neck       cuts air supply and results       instant lotteries are the way to think of the       future is what you make of it       son before you make any rash decisions       go and stand in the poet’s corner and fill in the forms you’ve been given make sure you answer every       question is you must understand the rules of inquisition        without question you must answer every question and make sure you complete every form you’ve been       given make very sure that       every form  is complete 
insanity.

MChallis © 2015
Edward Coles Mar 2015
Train track sonnets, the drunk piano,
old trumpets and dreams of West Virginia;
gold tobacco in an antique pipe,
finding a new look in outdated surroundings.
Patients of self-hate stand in bandages,
long sleeves, and in brickwork formation,
all this to the beat of the white man blues,
a country guitar, harsh vocal, the sleepless smoker
on the bedside; new speakers for old tunes.
A new look amongst past disguises, ancient lies,
angry blisters on the road to recovery,
pathetic bottle of emptied red wine.
Tom still sings Hold On through bad hands and lotteries,
he will stay to drink with me, when on a winning streak.
C
Secret lotteries will be held
Things will be decided

Underneath hanging prisons
atmospheric pressure adapts to gravitys constraints

This is who shall die
It was decided fairly

Tom
Sharon
Niel
And Garret

They will be informed
and procedings will commence imediately

Death hung on nails in the wood
Darkness cowered from the depths of hell
Frequency streams electrified infinity
Planets exploded then re-appeared in an instant
Warriors and monsters drank each others blood

Tom
You first

Grey

Sharon
Grey

Niel and Garret
You go together

Grey Grey

Repositioned particles bare no resemblance to their
former selves after an instant of infinity

The rest are safe now
Listening  and worshiping the big ******* eyeball ,  beaming into our children's eyes , conditioned to violence , accustomed to
smear **** on canvas , daring me to have a negative opinion ,
Throwing bigot and race like feeding pigeons , fist fights turned into automatic rifle fire , can't marry him , can't marry her , explosive people have no fuse , twelve year olds in their third trimester , an American ******* free for all , educational lotteries , churches picketing funerals ,
corporate hero worship designed to sell god ****** hamburgers , killing forest , killing farms , taxing polluted air I breathe , stabbed in the back by government freaks , burning the truth in effigy !
Copyright October 1 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
I'm tired
Of fake rainbows and fools gold
Of the best of intentions with little to no action
Of giant smiles through biting teeth

I'm tired
Of caring too much and not caring enough
Of either feeling helpless or hopeless
Of running myself in circles while not doing a thing

I'm tired
Of all the warning signs being there but no one seeing a need to warn
Of innocence lost and hope forgotten
Of lotteries with no winners, just losers

I'm tired
Of those with blame being held blameless
Of all the finger pointing but never introspective
Of an endless need to consider everyone's feelings while simultaneously no one cares

I'm tired
Of dishonesty from those in positions of power
Of distrustful actions from those we're expected to trust
Of money buying impunity

I'm tired
Of being too lazy to have patience
Of being part of the problem and not part of the solution
Of trying to deal with my paranoia when someone's clearly out to get me

I'm tired
Of endless waves of pity but never an open heart
Of technology connecting us yet making us less connected
Of the traditional definition of 'face-to-face time' replaced with things like Facebook or FaceTime

I'm tired
Of togetherness only after we've been divided
Of lives of youths spent by a misspent youth
Of tragedy happening without warning with clear warning signs

I'm tired

Of no one being able to agree and that's the only thing agreed upon
Written: February 16, 2018

All rights reserved.
james Oct 2019
your hair was golden blonde
and your eyes were equated to stars
far more than once
by an ocean of sands within an hour glass

his hair was shimmering bronze
and his eyes were blue as the sea
and he saw you
and he smiled as he answered your loving plea

i assume he felt like four leaf clovers, and shiny lotteries
oh all the sands in the hour glasses
when i spotted you among the masses
couldnt match the yellow hyacinths
that sprouted so surely from me-

for you walked in
hand in hand.

you are an angel bathed in light
as anyone could see
does it make me so blind to shift my gaze;
to know the light was he?
(you are a fair maiden with smiles so saccharine)
(i am a boy much darker than i am sweet)
(so why do i cry to the midnight sky)
("he should've loved me- he should've loved me!")
• Empty vases that will not hold water
Hairline cracks across the floral surface seep.
• Pain that waxes with the moon
And can’t remember how to wane.
• Heavy air that cannot transmit sunshine
But also refuses to permit rain.
• Lotteries where no one is the winner
And the tickets cost a fraction of your soul.
• Detour signs that take you in a circle
And bring you back to where you were.
• Silence where the music used to be
And left behind is just one broken Cello.
• Pieces that don’t fit together
So this puzzle can’t be done.
             ljm
It was just  there, floating in the air so I grabbed it as I went by.
John Bartholomew Aug 2019
Chasm
That's the space you want to fill
Looking out of the window whilst serving on the till
People buying those tickets for a load they only dream
Lotteries around the world letting off that mystic steam

Waiting
Maybe they'll pick you up that unknown multi millionaire
Living a life now in a dream without a single care
Your thoughts of a dramatic career basically now a flop
So why would that man of influence be shopping in co-op?

Dreaming
Looking at the Cava thinking its only cheap Champagne
What should I wear to Sharon's party as that top is now stained
Who's going to be there I suppose the usual bunch of boys
Then he pulled up in front of my door, a Silver Rolls Royce

Hello
Older but not by much he stumbles through, such a panic
Do you have anything to get this stain away from such fabric
Hot water, a good scrub as he ripped it off down to his tum
I took it, soap and then some, you'd be the kind of girl to meet my mum

Someday
Dried under the blower in the ladies toilet
I'm sure if I got with him he'd have my life summed up
So thankful he threw it on and told me I was his hero
I blushed, felt good for a while but then back down to zero

Again,

Someday

JJB
Some1 Aug 2017
Being gifted with love feeling to life or to someone
Fragile gift for to keep

Nourish your soul at its best
Don't leave it empty
Wonder and light  closed doors
Through darkness and enemy thoughts


When our bodies attached and we are tied
No time exists
I breath you like air
You exactly what I need


We get precious life lessons
Tears clean our soul  
Lessons meant to be  advantages  
Not it this case
"No " is on repeat for me
No matter what I gain from this pain
No matter which endless life lotteries and luck  I may have
You know why ?
Because i am ready to lose all for to have you by my side
Even myself

What right you had to keep my thoughts  trapped?!
Cyclone Dec 2019
Dig to see my dignity, live to see me living free, me was not the other me that's dreaming in the dreams that be, keeping what he keeps to go, going where he seeks to grow, teaching him some more and now he's knowing what he didn't know, us too could get a strong core and have time to question, but view it as a long, boring, half-hour session, privileged poets pass as pacifists, pack their packages to practice never backing back with facts as acts of activists, embodied poverty through my apology to my prodigy, in his naughty body, rich but still a ***** to losing lotteries, pity in what was witty is ******, repeated phrase after days finds its ways to hit me, cause these times have changed, it's rearranged and strange, at least to me cause in my self, I had felt my range, through the course of time, signs turn to friends of mine, if I stop, and drop, my end in time, capsule hassles, baffled by the way they would travel, now my gravel rattles, battled past the wrath of the cattle, find what was never found but always was there, compare it with results of what you see in your stare, where was the person that I chose to see, digging for my dignity, LIVING IN ME.

— The End —