Short Roulette Wheel Poems

Twenty-two, black and even is what I wanted to see.
When it came up on the roulette wheel, I was filled with glee.
Wasn’t I ecstatic when I saw that little white ball.
It spun around the wheel and landed in that stall.
Very shortly afterward, I heard the dealer’s call.
The straight-up payoff for that win is thirty-five to one.
That winner was all I needed.  I would take the money and run.
...

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If not used correctly
                  Confusion
                  Is no less
 Than the roulette wheel of life
For if you don't seek the answer
     You are simply allowing
          The ball of chance
        To land where it may
                  However
         If it's used correctly
                Confusion
               Brings forth
               Knowledge
             Which in turn
         Unlocks any door...

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Gods Rubik cube, twisted and turned
All combinations tried and failed
The wrong jigsaw piece that fits in no gap
The red number on a roulette wheel of black
The joke no one gets in embarrassed silence
The fly in the ointment,
The pea in your beans
Inside myself i don't talk but i scream
The words that change what we know
The clown of reality
The king of no land, the god with no soul
The man who is destined to turn into sand.
With all of you we walk hand in hand....

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A passing tram
and people
on Sunday morning walks
provide the pretext
of direction and give
a vague, comforting hope
that movement
has a purpose.

But the hard stuff
has a fuzzy core.
A ghostly roulette wheel
of what could be
makes the morning
ride the vagaries 
of a spinning ball.

Yet all is anchored,
somehow,
to this lovely illusion
of a cafe table
on which there is
an arrangement
of perfumed flowers,
two cups of coffee,
two warm croissants
and you and me....

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