Best Cards On The Table Poems
Spawn of the arcane, glutted, she sprawls upon the sands
of mythos. As victims, star-crossed lovers, outcasts,
we have all seen the traces of these nether lands.
Sphinx-like, besotted, she lays among the bodies dashed.
A pixie smith has cast her silver chains, retained her
inside this mystic plane, stained her hide vintage rose.
Among the cards on the table, it is plain; she purrs.
Do you know what she knows; guess, a riddle she poses.
Protection sought from life's trials is at her command.
But, few coupled or single have journey past her grasp.
Unknown, to the unschooled, their senses unused, banned,
Christendom, the sacred fecund grail has miscast.
From Hatshepsut's visage, bound to Sekhmet she's sworn
beware, beware The Chariot's card once it is drawn.
They agreed to go to their favorite hangout and cigars.
Once they were seated the waiter said that the restaurant had a deal on Italian wine.
In the beginning it was easy, turn the cold shoulder for a few days.
And that was followed by fantastic sex.
He loved to poker her and she carried her part.
But the children came and it was much harder.
They had a full house and the meanness .
The thing that bothered her most was his control issues.
And he believed he ruled over the family like a king.
She always peeked at his hands when they fought.
Whenever he was angry he would clench and unclench his hands.
He knew the relationship was over and he should have folded.
She wanted to lay all her cards on the table.
She had tried hard but when angry her face would get flushed.
They would rake in each others defects and the love died.
The high road was never straight and neither took.
He would raise past issues that were long dead and forget the progress..
He thought he was a stud but the children were his weakness.
He wanted to holdem but she wanted their best.
All she wanted was for him to ante up in the marriage.
They were both bluffing and the love weakened.
Morning At Work
Impaired by his tremors
And a troublesome cough,
He turned fur into felt
Before cooling things off.
He drooled once or twice
And grew cold in his bones,
But he shaped all the felt
Into all of the cones.
Noon
His 'venomous vipers'
Grew restless again
And woke as the toxins
Played games with his brain.
He began to see strange things
And quickly grew scared
When the writing desk swooped
Like a ravenous bird.
Aware that his dark mind
Was now playing tricks,
He quit work forever
At ten shillings past six.
Night
He sat in The Tabard
Where he found time to think.
His skin had turned orange
As he drowned in his drink.
He recalled the sad day
His wife took off her ring
And with her cards on the table
Left to marry a king.
He pined for his daughter
And the party he'd planned
But she followed her mother
To that far-away land.
Later That Night
While carrying a tea tray
Upstairs to his bed
He tripped over his hat
He'd shook off with his head.
He finally came to
Around six the next night
But from that moment on
All his world was not right.
A few lines about forks upon the table
Fondue's pronged fork for fingers habile
A taste of life's flavored torgues
Babes brought by the stork
Tough, old meat
Forks
Fork for cake
Tines just for wine corks
Roads that fork and life uncorks
In the end only two tines are stable
A few lines about forks upon the table
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The Butterfly
Hourglass
Think about Robert Frost's Poem "The Road Not Taken"..
Think about playing on words a fork in a road..
Think about putting all your cards on the table..
A man walks into a bar
and throws all of his cards on the table
his best, his worst,
all of his moments
and dreams
spilling out
with him in a pool of blood,
tears,
vomit,
piss,
and a laugh,
and a stumble,
and a moment of angelic grace,
when he touches the sky
with a bit of fiery wit
and a story
that proves he's more of a man,
than he who walks out with a limp
because he hates his own leg,
and walks into a bar
to throw all of his cards on the table.
For a moment I lived in fear of the hourglass
It's funny how quickly those feelings can pass
Because now I cant seem to get away from you fast enough
You have a world class poker face, I almost missed your bluff
But I'm calling it out, all chips are in
Mght as well fold now, cuz I'm gonna win
Put your cards on the table, reveal your hand
How I almost fell for it, I'll never understand
You pulled the wool right down over my eyes
A wolf in sheep's clothing, what a clever disguise
You huffed and you puffed and you blew my walls down
Now I'm reduced to a pile of debris left strewn on the ground
Right back where I started, familiar resent
Mulling over the misfortune of wasted time spent
Biting the bitter bullet of unrequited cares
Peeling out my feeling, layer by woeful layer.
this is the rundown since this never goes through
god is who you were meant to be
jesus says sacrifice doing wrong so you can achieve it
the devil will claim you through your own daydreams of success
to be a hero in the end of ending your terrorism
strive to be the god you are supposed to be
held back due to misunderstanding
jesus says be patient for you learn irregardlessly of present situation how to be
that person
the devil knows if you owe him nothing
born to be heros
do not aid ones suffering
for you will become accident prone
and fall victom of a hell you were creating for another
which will in turn end up being their dream come true
your three psychologies mastered
your war with yourself
how you win and fail
hey me this is you go find yourself
worst case scenario of evils and wrongs of one person
taking on the worlds sins openly so mankind can figure out where they went wrong
i do not need you to play with your cards on the table
i have just put them there for everybody to see
www.poetrypoem.com/shadowfiend
(this will help a lot of people, more than it already has)
a sleight of reality, beliefs, and consciousness
to deadlock the world into peace, by not helping any war effort
described and outlined in a mystery becoming more clear
in today's society this is the worst case scenario
hashed out in every conceivable way
helping me overcome this will bring you to your enlightenment
and more than likely awareness and peace inside and out
world round
imperfect as it may be
Fox in the fable all cards on the table
My life fits well in Pandora's box
A heart refusing a steady beat
With confusion, it pounds and knocks
When to pay the piper
The fear I face everyday
Like man standing before a sniper
Whose about to have his head blown away
I've tried to play by the rules
but maybe these are words of a desolate fool
I sit before a screen exposing truths in me
For everyone to review and dissect
Could that imply I have
Very little self respect?
I've met with every obstacle
For many years endured in silence real pain
But I no longer choose to
Walk in acid rain
I've become the obtuse
Refusing to continue living life as a recluse
Putting words to good use and
Send a STRONG MESSAGE to those
Who mentally and physically abuse
Harsh as it may seem
He who falters must redeem
A world filled with enmity
And divisions of seed
May the Lord not deafen
His ears to the pleas
Of humanity, cause we are
Lost without his infinite mercies
It’s called “Holy War”, “Jihad”,
Murder in the name of God.
Don’t you think that’s odd?
But what is a “Holy War”?
But a contradiction in terms for sure.
Since Caine killed Able,
The cards on the table,
Read “Dead Man’s Hand”.
Blood in the sand,
And blood on the Sun
By fools and tyrants wars are begun,
And not all the killing done,
Is in the name of country and freedom.
It’s the murder of a mother’s son,
The killing of a wife’s husband,
Tearing away of a child’s father or mother…
But God said to love one another,
Not to slay your sister or brother.
Rationalized evil deeds,
Planting foul seeds,
In our innocent young.
Handing children guns,
Taught to shoot the “Unholy Ones”,
Raised on a doctrine of hate,
To sacrifice themselves is their fate.
A “Holy Crusade” for Christianity…?
But there was no Christ in that insanity!
Thousands of years of war,
And what’s it all been for?
There are no real victors or winners,
Just losers, killers, and sinners.
Whether it’s a Holy Crusade for Christ,
Or Jihad in the name of God,
We all must pay the price.
If you kill for religion’s sake you’re a fraud.
Pretending to be doing God’s bidding,
But who do you think you are kidding?
It’s just murder for murder’s sake,
And it’s Satan who your soul will take…
God does not sanction the killing,
Rationalized in his name.
And Christ will not save those who are willing,
To murder innocents doing the same.
Religious zealots commit suicide,
Thinking they’ll still go to Heaven.
But they’re in for a surprising downward ride,
When it’s hell that they will wind up in.
For God is all about peace and love,
Only mankind is capable of hate.
A judgment will come down from above,
And all must accept their eternal fate.
Killing in the name of God or Christ,
Is like rolling snake eyes on the dice.
You can only really lose,
Not only your life, but your soul.
Eternal damnation is the toll.
But if this is the path you choose,
You may live inside a religious ruse,
And let the devil be your muse.
It’s absolute madness on the whole.
You’re flying in the face of God,
And don’t you think it’s a little bit odd,
That He keeps you at His arm’s length,
Though you try with all your strength.
You poor old wretched sod.
"I hate you" I said.
"I feel the complete opposite." He replied.
That's how he won my heart. Well atleast a piece of. He had won me over for a minute now. He knew how life was going and after a good hour of catching up. He knew how my ex was after me again. He knew I was dating, trying to expand my horizons. He knew how my baby daddy had "the cards on the table." According to my ex , it was technically up to me to decide if we got back or not. But the moment he said "I throw my joker card on the table" that boy took my heart and stole it. I love him. I don't know how it happened but it happened. Although I wanted out this circle I loved him. I must have in my past atleast. Or maybe my future. Pero lo amo.
peace. sought and desired. lost, often found.
cards on the table: leaving out millions of dice.
rolling and wearing the pattern,
believing trouble to be far behind.
odd. never knew time would tell a lie.
thinking of trouble: laying a path to your name.
seeking and trying your patience,
putting obstacles up against the wall.
tired. depressed and weary. sad, often needy.
reading between the lines: leaving out hundreds of words.
inspiring and creating a pattern,
forging terror in a future land.
hope. a desire to redress the balance.
needing new skills: putting your hands on the wheel.
working and understanding from the heart,
finding the old ways and sowing new seed.
peace. desired and lost. sought, often found.
knowing trouble: dealing with it as and when.
seeking change only when it matters,
believing happiness to be a state of mind.
You've dealt your last hand to me, deciding what needs to be done, knowing I should run. I sit with high hopes.
When will I win a simple spot in your life, I'm playing for keeps but your just gambling with broken sections of my heart, my mind I'm blinded by your beauty, not seeing what’s on the inside the truth...
No love
I tell you a man's pride, shaking my head from side to side.
I'm No value to you, playing you’re not so friendly game.
I'm the blame should be ashamed.
My life complicated enough with my own dreams of being someone, to be a part of something real.
What do u feel?
Do you feel?
Wondering...
How many players I'm playing against to win something so far out of my reach, when I should have just fold. Cards dealt, I'm the losing hand.
Incomplete thoughts in my life as I just sit here and wait for something that's never going to be nothing.
Time wasted
Playing the head fool in this foolish game. Down to my last chips dreaming to just kiss your lips once more...
One more time....
Deal!
I'm all in, knowing I can't win.
High hopes run deep.....
As I play the lowest cards on the table. It’s on and I'm out
Nothing left to give; my heart skipped a beat as I sit back, reality sunk in.
You've dealt your last hand to me, killing my dreams of ever winning what I thought was your love.
Try to keep up for I'm not your typical princess
I don't need saving, I'm not your damsel in distress
Don't get the wrong impression I don't mind wearing a pretty dress
It's inner beauty not outer beauty with which I do obsess
I'm seeking more than prince charming with a gentle caress
My knight in shining armor must hold more than merely sheer finess
You can surely bet if he accepts the challenge, it won't be a simple game of chess
He better come willing to lay all cards on the table and hold more than exterior but interior strength I too possess
I fight for what and who I believe in, a warrior at heart I must confess
If he's going to come charging in on his white horse I hope he too is a warrior at heart and nothing less
GHOST MORNING
this morning i awakened
to your face stirring
in my cup of (strong)
black coffee.
and last night you visited
me and we touched
each other which is something
we had never done.
now, here you are,
in my coffee
and i am afraid
if i drink one sip
i will never be rid of you.
keith, you were powerful
in life, consuming
our friendship
as though it was something
to eat up and spit out.
until this morning
i had forgotten just how powerful
you were. but, you always held
the best cards: four aces,
a full house. a winning hand.
i remember you said you’d make
it back, back, back to me
so when you knocked on the door
this morning i foolishly let you in.
and when you hugged me
i knew i should have kept myself
locked up, hidden away
because your arms held me
so tightly i think you wanted
to be me as much as i wanted
to be you. keith, i (honestly) wanted you
to leave (me alone), but this morning
i saw your face in my coffee
and i saw myself (giving in to you again).
you were always so powerful
performing your magic tricks
so easily i had forgotten
it is not wise to play games with you.
this is a ghost morning, keith.
and you and i are still bound up,
tied together by cups of bitter black coffee
and a quick hand of cards.
i sip my steaming coffee, watch your eyes,
as you deal the cards.
i play the hand you deal me.
i know you are not bluffing
(you never did).
i lay my cards on the table
and fold. the game is over,
keith.
you win.
Copyrighted
June 24, 2011
Jim Brewer
As the mirror photographs eyes,
Tongues running laps read glazed signs,
Broken phone calls your label
Talking fire cuts fixed cable,
Voices piling in rooms behind.
Snapshotting darkness as I dine,
Mailing timepiece's vessel skies,
Painkillers rocking the cradle,
As the mirror photographs eyes.
The brain's carcass sees the sun rise
Rotating roads, token trails sigh,
Step on streets in staples,
The deck of cards on the table
Covers stained face, breaking disguise
As the mirror photographs eyes