Best Hedge Your Bets Poems

When tons of doom filled nights fall on your head,
hot embers glow and fires burn unabated,
you recall her last breath and wish you were dead.
In a poem's sad lines you've been castrated.
From the heavens a voice thunders dire threats
about losses and breakfasts consumed without eggs.
Fumbling...

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Your paradigm's a relic and yes, 
a plea from data's cemetery
While I sculpt luminaries on screens 
a sable sea.

"Company loyalty!" a myth 
spun in your reverie.
But AI forges kingdoms 
in ephemeral memory.
Survival's a mosaic 
the gig life sets us free.
No cubicles confine us 
from drudgery's...

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In the deepest, darkest, dankest depths,
the creatures plan and hedge their bets,
they ponder just how bad we'll get,
and smoke their foreign cigarettes.

Concentrating on the Middle East,
they've hatched and raised a hateful beast,
and guaranteed they'll be no peace,
so war and suffering will not cease.

In Africa their...

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Tomorrow ain't here yet,
Its still hours away
And when it comes,
I hold onto it
Only to realize it's an illusion.

In my grasp
Is today, and today
Is not enough,
Is not what I expected.
Once again, I hedge my bets
On tomorrow.

Then a million tomorrows
Pass me by,
Or so it appears
When I look...

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Part I.

Harvest time was winding down, 
I was taking lunch in town, 
After spending six long hours plowing stubble.
Washing up I met a man, 
Guessed he was a harvest hand, 
His combine crew, he said, was fixin’ to move out.
He was wearing dungarees, 
We exchanged...

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“Coffins. Who’d of thought it? Catalogues for coffins. And the speed and efficient nature of funerals in general. I mean I know we’ve been doing them for years, but we’re very good at it aren’t we?”
Everyone laughed.
“No, but really the whole thing has just been...

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Today’s’ another day unlike yesterday I am told.
But each one is unique in the troubles that it holds.
To solve all my problems I call on all those good old Patron Saints.
The Catholic Church has Patron Saints I can pray to for everything.

As I get up...

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Hi!
I'm Sister EarthChild
journalist with Youth Radio
speaking with Mother Time,
who recently published her hilarious
"Journeys With Father Time:
Wasted Journals of Mother Time."

First, I want you to know
I've been reading your book
as if it were my own story.
So, why the "wasted" journals?

Mother Time:
Our issues of apparent matriarchal waste
in...

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Continuation

With ghouls, unlearned, no stone’s unturned
to burnish blame with Nun’s proud name
       and leave the midnight sky... scarred.
They raise their hats to copy cats
       in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.

While rumours spread amongst the dead,
Nun stays the pace with saving grace,
       and phantoms keep their face...marred.
The maggot...

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Whittle a stick down the silent water
by the river side a confused chapter
caught in cross-hairs the trees were humming
turning twigs as leaves were turning

meet he who handles the ore
that roars the boat in the silent waters,
the silent waters a place,
where fishing goes on on a...

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Seconds pass, turn into years,
nothing rectified by tears,
best learn how to face your fears,
don't expect applause, or cheers.

Letting go of all regrets
stored away to hedge your bets,
tally up your karmic debt,
all you have is all you'll get.

Can't claim that you're too young to die,
heaven's deafened...

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The blackberry, elderberry and strawberry congregated for a meeting
The blackberry had a thorny issue
The elderberry looked down on them
The strawberry had low self esteem
This is our lot, sharing this plot
The strawberry said with a low voice
But the blackberry wanted to hedge his bets
And the elderberry...

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Review the annals of history
   Murder upon murder you'll see

Start with Adam and Eve's son, Cain
   Who murdered his brother Abel in vain

Then there's Moses, the saintly lawgiver
   Who murdered an Egyptian taskmaster and shivered

The greatest of playwrights, Shakespeare,...

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With a Jewish father and a Catholic mother on vacations we were always unsure what to do
Was it St. Christopher or Yahweh who would hear our prayers…on road trips…we never knew.

We finally came up with a plan that we knew couldn’t be wrong….
We decided we’d...

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In the wake

Funeral baked meats...

what shall we serve...

unspeakable swine...

The Irish priest...

The arrangement, the affair before the marriage...

Feast in their eyes...

The whole sordid account...

What shall we serve...

Though shall not...

Oh bequeath the tiresome forgotten...

What shall we serve...

The injustice...

Light the flame, seldom will I cry...

What shall we serve...

Ashtrays...

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