Sad, Sad, Sade Poem by Madrason .

No luck for me
the queen of spades
she just succumbs
forgotten wombs
forgottenness
and nothing less
black is the blade
it's shovelling dirt
away from birth
a way of birth
no luck for me
the queen of spades
a game of misery
the king has spoken
broken word of mouth
stout soldier and I
why do I merci-fy
cover the dirt
with fruitful earth
the worms are crawling
swallowing gorge-ante-ously
spitting creativity
I am left here in this cavity
with no where else to hide
I might as well
jump in to hell
or swell into my suicide
but my pride keeps me
inside this scene
I didn't have to fabricate
it's late, too late …..and
I'm going to sleep. M