Trust-less Daze (Gambling Daze, part 4). A poem.

I trusted you to pay the bills,
until I received those pointed calls;
found them hidden, of course,
in out of the way places,
away from prying eyes
and your surreptitious faces.

I listened to the constant stream
Of lies and excuses and deceit
All the time asking why me? Why me?
How could you say you loved
Then steal from me (in oh, so many ways),
your heart lost to the next win
and a poker machine glaze.

You had open access to all of me.
You screwed it up, threw it all away
as if it were nothing more
than crumpled newspaper:
yesterday’s news and leftover food,
eviscerated heart and dreams,
your doormat fool.

Now, you choose to forget
the things you did (conveniently)
casting a veil as far as you can see,
pretending it was always happy families.

I could put up with stealing,
heartbreak, pain, lies, contempt.
But once the trust was gone,
there was nothing left.

Nothing left.

My first wife was a compulsive gambler. It was not a pleasant time in my life, and is not fondly remembered. But it is remembered, by me, at least.
Steve

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

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Truth-less Daze (Gambling Daze, part 3). A poem.

She liked responsibility—
it gave her credibility,
a way to cover erstwhile tracks,
unpaid bills and missing goods;
her lies falling on naive ears,
infallible fallibility.

The pawnshop, her best friend
(other than the pokies, that is),
until she learned that dud cheques
worked just as well
except they caught up in the end.
So, taking out loans and
subverting more trust
became her way of life.
Gamblers Anonymous was not enough.
And all the while she sank deeper
into the hole she dug,
until it was too far and too deep
to get out of.

Isn’t that the way it always goes?
Destroy another
for your own needs and hopes?
No, it’s not.
But that’s how she thought.
That’s how she lost it all.

How her fallout covered the land
and toxic ash became her brand.

My first wife was a compulsive gambler. It was not a pleasant time in my life, and is not fondly remembered. But it is remembered, by me, at least.

Steve

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Wayward Daze (Gambling Daze, part 2). A poem.

I remember carrying my son
Two months old and sleeping
Into wayward pubs and clubs
In search of a wayward mother
Bewitched by poker machines
And the scent of an easy win.

I remember the humiliation
Of asking doormen and barmen
If they had seen her
Sitting zombie-like at machines
feeding her constancy
and poor self-esteem.

I remember her excuses
Which she chose to pass from memory
As easily as passing wind,
Each lie another flatulent thought
Already forgotten in the coverup.

I remember all my tears
and my son sleeping quietly
unaware of the storm
that surrounded him
as dreams of happy families
were sundered from within.

My first wife was a compulsive gambler. It was not a pleasant time in my life, and is not fondly remembered. But it is remembered, by me, at least.

Steve

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Poker Machine Daze (Gambling Daze, part 1). A poem.

She played the pokies in her day,
her singular gaze unflinching
and intractably admiring.
The stars and bells, her friends;
a gentle, constant riot of affection
and affectation, pleading to stay
and coaxing her with opium overtures
of digitised ecstasy.

The hours flew by until the credit expired
and she was begging for more,
cashing nameless cheques
and selling recently acquired
electrical and white goods
(no questions asked)
in a whirlpool of hypocrisy.

The pokies called to her,
like sirens on a cold and callous sea,
the daughters of Achelous
pleading for her return,
tempting her with short-term solutions
and promises of fools’ good.

How could she resist?
Just one more spin of the wheels
and fabled misfortune awaited.
How many more lines would she cross,
how many more lies would she tell
to ensure the opulent beasts
remained her constant companions?

These friends were never-lasting,
because the all too-plentiful machines,
as sensual as they might seem,
gave far less love
than they received
and in the end
discarded her
for the next
easy
win.

My first wife was a compulsive gambler. It was not a pleasant time in my life, and is not fondly remembered. But it is remembered, by me, at least.

Steve

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

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