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Krys Aug 2018
Luck. Luck treads the line between disaster and survival.
A ball loses momentum on a spinning wheel.
It falls into a pocket.
With one sweep, you’re merely a fool.

Surely, the glory can be regained?
Borrow from those you know. Make a new bet.
Borrow from strangers. Make a new bet.
Make deals with the predators.
Point of no return. You thought they wouldn’t hunt you down?
With one sweep, you’re merely a fool.

We’re all fools here.
This is our lesson of repentance.
We romanced misfortune and she loved us enough to grant us omens of disaster.
With no meaning left in our lives, we are shadows. Shadows that want to survive.

Take the gun.  Raise the barrel to the side of your head.
Maybe fortune will pity you.

They say the greatest luck is dying at the right time.
Is this the right hour? Minute? Second?
A ball loses momentum on a spinning wheel.
It falls into a pocket.

Pull the trigger, fool.
Eloi Sep 2016
I inked my skin with your name,
As you swore you wouldn't play the game,
Russian roulette,
As good as you could get,
But there was someone who was better yet.

Spin the bottle,
Load up the gun,
And tell yourself  it's only a bit of fun.

The future can't be real,
If the deal is not sealed,
A debt you will pay,
For playing this game.

Spinning,
Spinning,
Round and round,
It lands on you as you bow your head to the ground.

Pick up the gun,
It's no longer fun,
Death is calling,
You're slowly falling.

Bang,
The shot was perfect,
Right through your skull,
As if It was worth it.

You fell to the floor,
I ran out of the door,
Never to return to our place we called "home".

It wasn't a game of roulette,
It was our series of events,
You killed yourself,
Due to the sadness that you felt.

So this is my spin on things,
I'll pour a glass and admit my sins,
Before I join in,
With your game of Russian roulette.
Eloi Jun 2016
I inked my skin with your name,
As you swore you wouldn't play the game,
Russian roulette,
As good as you could get,
But there was someone who was better yet.

Spin the bottle,
Load up the gun,
And tell yourself  it's only a bit of fun.

The future can't be real,
If the deal is not sealed,
A debt you will pay,
For playing this game.

Spinning,
Spinning,
Round and round,
It lands on you as you bow your head to the ground.

Pick up the gun,
It's no longer fun,
Death is calling,
You're slowly falling.

Bang,
The shot was perfect,
Right through your skull,
As if It was worth it.

You fell to the floor,
I ran out of the door,
Never to return to our place we called "home".

It wasn't a game of roulette,
It was our series of events,
You killed yourself,
Due to the sadness that you felt.

So this is my spin on things,
I'll pour a glass and admit my sins,
Before I join in,
With your game of Russian roulette.
A few of my poems explain about this same story,
But this is a different view of it, for me anyway.
I don't remember passing out
The barkeep nudged me twice
I'd been out at least an hour
My drink, it had no ice

He told me I was finished
He said "Boy, you are done"
"You're playing roulette with a pistol"
"With six bullets, not just one"

"There's a taxi on it's way boy"
I took in every word
But in truth, my head was spinning
What he said, I never heard

Way back in the corner
Sat two vultures watching me
The barkeep saw them watching
And he said "Son, the taxi's free"

"There's a cot just off the kitchen"
"If you'd rather stay inside"
"You won't throw up in the taxi"
"It saves me money for the ride"

I nodded I'd accept it
He told me, "good, I hoped you would"
"The way your night is going"
"It just won't end up good"

"You're burning both ends of the candle"
"You're lighting the middle part as well"
"You may think you're off to heaven"
"Drink like this, you'll end in hell"

He said "out back there is another"
"Fought the bottle, fought it hard"
"He was lost, but came back stronger"
"He's doing well, but he is scarred"

"Tomorrow, you'll eat breakfast"
"Go out back, and talk a bit"
"Now, off to bed directly"
"I need to think a bit, and sit"

I thanked him, though I mumbled
The words were clear inside my head
But, the words that I said to him
Made no sense, so....off to bed

The next morning, over coffee
He told me, "I've watched you every night"
"I've woken you before, you know"
"What you're doing isn't right"

I told him of my troubles
He shook his head, and said "so what"
"We all have troubles sometime"
"We make the best with what we've got"

"You can come here if you want to"
"But, if you drink, I'll cut you off"
"This is your only chance son"
He said the last line, through a cough

He said that after breakfast
After I'd done the washing up
I was to head out to the alley
With fresh coffee, in a cup

He said "out back there"
"You'll find a man with a guitar"
"Give him the fresh coffee"
"He won't come here inside the bar"

I went out in the alley
And there exactly as he said
Sat a man, singing to no one
With a old ball cap on his head

I listened as he sang out
A voice as harsh as glass and sand
Playing guitar in the sunshine
Keeping beat, a one man band

He finished, and he saw me
Smiled as he took the cup
He said, "You don't know me"
"But, I knew you'd look me up"

The Bluesman drank the coffee
Told me to sit and stay a spell
For each minute that I listened
Was one less I was in hell.
A round of musical chairs
But it's actually a game of Russian Roulette
What terrible luck you have!
craig apogee Jul 2015
this game of to and fro
ebb and flow
come and go
yes and no

its driving me to the depths of a sea of confusion
where i drown myself in doubt
blacking out and going towards a light
that appears to be unimaginably beautiful

so much so that i can't even recall it
a reality draped in a shroud of my own creation
a potential happiness that has been empowered
before it has even taken its true form

the empowerment of a blind emotion
much like russian roulette but with a dart in the chamber
which has either come straight from cupid's bow
or its dipped with poison of a familiar cardiotoxicity
it hasn't even happened yet and I feel the weight of your absence pressing on my chest

I've never been one for attachment and now I understand why

because to care too deeply is the emotional equivalent of Russian roulette

but this time they are all filled with bullets

and I seem to be winning this round
Johnny Nixon Apr 2015
There's a click, no noise, followed by
A relief, an awareness.
I sense all, I smell the humidity rise as if it will soon rain.
There is a grace only felt in redemption -      
                    Rebirth.

New life breeds an exciting adventure.

But the next click reveals a deafening noise

The camera's aperture opens fully and the capture light file the opening.

White, life filling, fully encompassing.

True life, new life, everlasting life begins  -
                     Rebirth.
Little moist drops of heaven
       Trickling down my throat
    The heavenly burn,
                   delicious
Synonymous with an Angel's wings
               fluttering in my esophagus
     Liquid lightning, striking
          Almost blasphemous
 A devilish game of Russian Roulette
              With four shot glasses,
   Three rogues and one gent
Emotions getting looser
    Clothing getting tighter
           The taste becoming
     Sweeter
          Liquefied demon tears
Playing a wicked game
            with my insides
    Putting a beautiful curse on my mind
             Melted Whiskey Raindrops
     Sending shivers down my spine
           This hellish war of love, hate and
                    Intoxication
   Has never felt so
                  *Divine
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