Game
by Ted L Glines
Blessings on the games we play
the virtual realness of our day
winning always gets my vote
long live the joystick and remote
and when - by chance I am the loser
I'll defend my own abuser
as always - going back for more
someone forgot to lock the door
and with darkly syncopation
pain becomes my validation
as I cry for my salvation
but shy away from obligation
love the damned with sobbing keening
sorry stories give them meaning
look around at all the players
grinning charlatans - soothsayers
if life is virtual reality
then who the hell is 'me'?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem