"wagered" poems
what sound!?
god's surprise
smack to dictate
needed her words
formulate doubt
from the hillside
curious answer
feeding his curse
grab her by the arm
gently
time to go
tonight
we ride tonight
following heart
to the edge of the end
tonight
we ride tonight
if the fallen sore
seeks the golden shore
what can we offer
the muse that is fueling
our destiny back to the throne?
and if the festered rose
abhors in its death throes
then how can she bargain
with those who have wagered
she'd never abandon her own?
she'll lie
awake
haunting dreams
she'll ride
always
to the end
solely her own
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
a liar once told me that i write good poetry
i laughed and continued drinking,
the sudden rush of despair, the wicked beast, the dry pages
the man had no credentials
but he persisted, declaring me an inspiration
like seeing a strand of hair attract a magnet
or amber jewels lolling in a dimly lit case
imagination is a felony, i wagered as i poured another
a combustion i know like the back of my hands
i told him i dreamt of a morgue where everyone i ever loved
sat upright as sunflowers, declaring their love for the sun
and of a newspaper rife with disease and the passion of a janitor
there is a raccoon near a river somewhere cleaning an apple
with a heart as big as an artist in drunken euphoria
taking better care of it than me when i sit down at a typewriter
it's wearing a cape just like edgar allen poe
and having better conversation with an oak tree than i've ever had at a party
about the sunday crossword puzzle he completed
yesterday i drank myself into a masquerade ball
arriving in a limousine being driven by a bearded mickey mantle
i was the guest of honor, sword fighting on table tops
and lecturing the guests about shakespeare through a garbage disposal
while a horse played backgammon with my father's brother
and there was a girl there behind the facade of an owl
who danced like the wind and everlasting light
and no one could stop her or look her in the eye
i am the only connection between my mind and the paper
merely a vessel, a john boat clearly breaching it's depth
either drowning like a fish in a sand dune or
being bounced like a baby on the knee of god
slavery, i call it, and hand him a glass of warm bourbon
as the splashing of my journal pages slap my crushed trachea
the typewriter is padlocked and painted over with cement
the metamorphosis trapped inside a bullet, boiling with sheer fury
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
Not too long ago but the wisdom still alluded me
And not be Frank, I was never one for the Ocean and sand.
So the salt in my lungs, your gaze into my eyes was new to me.
Scared but not enough to tell you, I took your hand.
(The waves felt good on my coarse skin.)
No TVs there, it was Remote.
The locals wagered on a pair of dice.
Coladas with two cubes a pair of ice.
I was living in, and you are my Paradise.
Everything I wanted and more, but still not willing to sacrifice
(I rebel, I rebel)
All that was asked was reciprocation.
She said” Boy just say my name, that’s all I want”
“ Show me joules. Life, Love, and Dedication.”
Told her “ stop trippin” She said ”why you front?”
(Time Passed)
All that was asked was reciprocation.
But society’s serpent wouldn’t let me. ( Boys aren’t supposed to feel)
Eve’s whisper led me to condemnation. ( No room for my pride)
Wiped the Salt water from my eyes “Just don’t forget me.” ( she apathetically pointed at the door)
The rain fell
… I’ll never forget raindrops I felt, that night I plead with you
Same raindrops I felt that first night that I kissed you.
And I cannot lie and say that I don’t miss you.
…That I don’t miss my paradise.
But – sometimes stories don’t end the way you want’m to right?
(Lost Happiness, Lingering Pain)
I miss you
Right hand to god, Left hand holding the remains of my heart.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
I rolled
in on
my hog
while today's
traffic was
through the
bog like
wheels in
heresy laid
upon the
road in
stride as
she was
a notorious
surprise what
wagered my
tires in-between
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 7:44 AM UTC
we are dinosaurs.
me and my friends:
are chalky ***** figures.
spine-braced--
in a claymation display.
you will never truly
know us.
we are:
not
living.
we are:
the insides
of buildings.
we are:
a main exhibit
watch:
the stutter
of movements.
cold,
lucid,
lizards.
every shroud
thrown on
only invokes
the wrath
of the architecht
after all
what is a body
but a bag of bones
wagered to
break
or tossed on turtle shells
to predict
great things.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 2:23 AM UTC
The die is caste, It’s do or die.
Attack, invade or fold and cry?
Send the hordes across Ukraine
Or sulk with International blame?
The banks are bust, the coffer’s dry,
Friend China’s left him dangling high,
Pro-Russian thugs in full retreat
From Ukraine Army booted feet,
His wagered bet became a farce
When Ukraine howled…”Up your ****
His revolution died it’s death
In white hot hatred’s foetid breath.
Decision time… retreat or strike
Fly in the face of world dislike?
Throw caution to the wind, attack
In the knowledge there’s no going back?
Risk global condemnation’s scowl
Or chose humiliation's howl?
Putin writhes in clefted stick
His destiny in cross or tick.
M.
8 August 2014
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Oh gastric sleeve, I've worn you long
To gasp, to cough disgustingly
For I have treated you so wrong
Ingesting drink not good for me
Green Tea is now my joy
Green Tea I may sip all night
Green Tea turns my heart to gold
This antioxidant, Green Tea
Your leaves I've soaked, as I've my heart
Oh, how your taste does capture me
Now I refrain from other tarts
My heart remains your cavity
Green Tea is now my joy
Green Tea I do sip at night
Green Tea turns my heart to gold
Such antioxidants, Green Tea
I hold you constantly in my hand
To steep whenever I may crave
I have both wagered heart and head
My microbiome you've help save
Green Tea is all my joy
Green Tea I will sip all night
Green Tea turns my heart to gold
This antioxidant, Green Tea
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 5:51 PM UTC
Born in a bevy of robust, good joy
Raised by irascible those who employed
Dubious methods to coax and convince
A conniving compliance from this little Prince.
He stole what he could as he played a sharp game
And accrued a doubtful reputation of shame,
He cheated at cards and stole from the rich
And called all the tarts on the corner… a *****
And in taking the **** in a fat, farty way
He went on to run a fast gauntlet…and say
“I’ve now passed the buck to an honourable sod
Whose specialty lies in allegiance to God”
In thus doing he wagered a bet both ways
To the Devil he sang and to Jesus he prayed.
To his mistress he lied as he bedded her well
Tho his wife hit the road with the milkman from Hell,
His kids all cavorted with *** and with sin….
Then the whole mess contused like a shroud over him.
Morose and confused, whilst simpering in bed
Moans now, quite deservedly,…” Better off dead!”
M.
8 November 2017
In a wet Waikato Spring
NEW ZEALAND
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
Over my shoulder when all the
lights faded
The looming end has all but
been written
From over my shoulder I pray I've
gone mad, Tho'
fate would submit me
To a glimpse of her shadow.
Not a day passes
She won't show me
her face
A scar in the minds eye
A memory misplaced.
I plead to her
"Let go!"
I yearn to be freed
I spot once more
her shadow
Where my own once casts from
my feet.
I don't believe in
true love
Tho' I'm open to opinion
I wagered once with
your god
Beseeching him to listen
Let there be no
other lover
To woo me from the path
If destiny be fabricated
Let love sway
not last.
She couldn't help but think
Had we crossed five years later
We could of saved ourselves
from falling victim to
our fears.
And each time one door closes
And as I learn to
be alone
Her voice echoes not in
my head
but from out the shadows
"It is what it is,
All people lie.
Know they look up to you,
And hold your head high."
I'm terrified my
courage stripped
She does not appear for resolution
I will not sleep, for fear to wake
To pay for my decisions.
She stole my trust, and I
lashed out
Taking from her youth and innocence
For this she'll take away my normal
And watch me bathe in darkness.
She can't know
About you
She can't know you're real
I beg you not to fall for me
Please don't disappear.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
there will be
only a shallow,
pleasured connection
til you learn
to tie the knots of my youth
into something new
and your own
or until,
you can teach me
to burn 'way the noose.
I found
on my own
with a struggle-pack demon
that the years never pass
with abuse,
so let's
'eye to eye'
with a love-wagered reason
and baggage all this kink
into use.
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 5:32 AM UTC
The house, an aristocratic pile
Sat nestled into the hill,
Hidden by trees and bushes, while
It harboured its silence, still.
No outward sign of its infamy,
No clue to the years before,
When men had described it, clinically
As being, itself, at war.
Designed and built by my grandfather
In a late Victorian style,
It had all the trappings of balconies
And of lacework in wrought iron,
The tiles were Italian marble
And the pathways local stone,
My Grandma, Jenny McArdle,
She gave it a heightened tone.
The gentry came for the parties,
They came for the dress-up *****
I don’t remember a time they weren’t
Wandering through the halls,
It fretted Jenny McArdle
Who wanted a little peace,
But **** was a hunting sporting man
And he wanted peace the least.
He’d take his chums to the library
Where they’d play their six card stud,
There were threats and there was bribery
And before too long there, blood,
Then finally, on an ill starred night
That would hit my grandma hard,
Her husband wagered the house she loved
Just once, on a single card.
The moment she heard the house was gone
She flew at their deck of cards,
Split open the heads of more than one
Left acres of glass in shards,
‘You’ll not be taking my home from me,’
She screamed at the Earl of Vane,
Before she fell from the balcony,
Cursing her husband’s name.
And **** was never the same again
He had to vacate his home,
While Jenny McArdle’s blood was still
Staining the local stone,
They say her ghost wouldn’t leave the place
And that’s why it caught alight,
Once when her shape had leapt in space
From the balcony one night.
And now I sit in the clearing where
That once great house had sat,
Amidst the trees and the sounds of bees
When I’m feeling low, and flat,
That house, it should have been left to me,
I’m the only downward line,
But still I hear when the weather’s clear
My grandma’s voice, ‘It’s mine!’
David Lewis Paget
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Dear Charlie,
Don’t worry about me, I am doing all alright
Today I ate a Rhubarb custard pie
Like mom used to cook when we would’ve cried
Or when we finished eating dinner late in the night
Then, we played "Beat Your Neighbor Out Of Doors"
And we wagered collectible cigarette packs
I have won a Lucky strike just like yours
So I exchange it for a bugles and dots snack
Later, we listened to the radio
Everyone knew: “It's a Long Way to Tipperary"
I looked at some memorable photos
Even the one with grandpa who stayed temporarily
Finishing the day, I read the book you gave me
Looking at the sky, reminiscing our memories
At the end of the day, I cherish you greatly
So, little brother, don’t worry about me
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 3:37 AM UTC
I once loved a man,
Who made a bet on my worth,
A sick game he played,
To measure his own girth.
He wagered my virginity,
A trophy to be won,
His ego as fragile,
As glass in the sun.
I lost that bet,
And with it my innocence,
A love that was tainted,
By his selfish pretense.
He got me pregnant,
A life I never planned,
But he didn't want the burden,
And gave me an ultimatum to end.
I felt trapped and scared,
His words a heavy weight,
But I found the courage,
To choose my own fate.
I left him behind,
Never looking back,
An escape from the toxicity,
The strength I never knew I had.
My first love,
A painful lesson learned,
A reminder to never settle,
And that self-love is earned.
Apr 21, 2023
Apr 21, 2023 at 6:45 AM UTC
I once heard of a man named Pascal who wagered that my soul was better off in the hands of a myth than left to my own devices, and as I lay here chained to my bed with my demons pulling at my ribcage I'm starting to think he was right.
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
People, people, cherish oh people.
The rising sun and joyous cloud-filled skies,
The moment is upon us where darkness will fall.
And man will fail to rise,
His accountence will be bare.
His dues wagered against his life,
The folly of the world and its occupants.
Will one day come to a closing sight,
The curtains will shutter and be no more.
Why then do we not see this setting sun on the horizon?
Are we to be considered ignorant fools?
Cattle raised and branded not knowing for what or why.
This amongst many others,
Is a reason you should no longer lie.
The day is coming Oh man, woman and child.
Will you be ready against its terrifying arrival?
Or like a child hide and wait for the storm to end?
The time is coming.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Searching through the forest,
chasing dreams your sleep abandoned
And losing yourself in the mindless
spatial distance
You play two handed poker
with the devil of the night
The Prince holding only one card,
as you gamble it all…
Forever promising:
“This hand will be your ticket out”
He relays his wagered truth,
with a baton of shattered tears
But time recovers,
the present firing upon the night
Hitting it at last dead center,
the debris now quicksand
Drowning the last excuse
of your bloodless past refusals
Salvation now in full retreat,
—all exits thrice denied
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
Why desire night-blooming jasmine,
yet refuse sandalwood’s calm?
Frankincense drifts outside,
myrrh’s sorrow wagered within.
Orange—innocence so pure,
Yet freshness shimmers only in light;
Musk—the scent of hormone,
Sweetness of oxytocin's pulse.
What is the lemon zest of dark
fragrances … in burning smoke
or secretive pheromones it craved for?
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 3:52 AM UTC
The body borrowed,
the soul to lend
The clock runs quickly,
—each click portends
The choices wagered,
the chips they fall
The sins if proffered,
—a last downfall
Your memory staggered,
the past in waves
The future stealing,
—are you enslaved
The trumpet blows,
one last farewell
The die is cast,
—heaven or hell
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC