behind the eight ball

Dry eyed, thrashed by the waters
In the game of pool
Life tells me to play ball
the ball has never been in my court
I have tried to be on the ball
It is like I am out on a limb
unseen chain and ball cling
At the ball, I take a swing
I hit the ‘eight ball’
I miss my cue, I miss my shot
‘nother foul shot, in my slot
some pot shots never work
and ethics cannot be shirked
If I had a crystal ball to gaze
that would put me in a daze
like staring down the barrel
of a smokin’ gun
knowing that the bullet coming out
would have my name on it
I would never turn tail and run

not ready to bite the dust yet
life is not all hard work and sweat
would let my hair down and have a ball
I believe in hedonism not at all
All I need to hear ever
my euphonic conscience peace measure

34 thoughts on “behind the eight ball

      1. And so you were, Lady Yasmin. With just 10 men and a penalty against us with only minutes to go (which made it 1-1) we got a penalty for the last kick of the game. 2-1 to The Arsenal. Useless referee, even sent Wenger to the stands. You are obviously our lucky charm.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. I liked this piece a lot…it’s curiously well-done with continuously changing metaphor of the “ball.”
    It’s a piece that need read several times…and still then likely revisited.

    Liked by 1 person

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