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Keith Rowley

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The Ace of Spades
by Keith Rowley → (All Poetry by Keith Rowley)
   Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Any and all contributions to the writer's fund for the generation of linguistic entropy will be welcomed.

There is no way to see the day

When all is said and done

Time the thief brings all to grief

Beneath the mourning Sun

 

The bondage maid and vicious fool

Do run and play their games

But all will come to ruin’s hall

Beneath the Ace of Spades

 

See the monkey in the pot

Behind the garage door

See it scratch its balls and spit

As the soup spills on the floor

 

As statues writhe in splintered sex

Steel eagles rend their young

‘twas ever so in wonderland

Where writers have their fun

 

Replete with thoughts of blood and gore

The writer’s mind rebels

And so he munches on a corpse

His mother at him yells

 

You silly boy she squeaks and bleats

That meat is barely cold

And grannie’s tits are old and dry

So first lick off the mould

 

But on and on the writer chomps

Through tit and arse and leg

Chowing corpses feels so good

More corpse! I hear her beg

 

Yawning loud the sun sets course

And leaves the field of play

And the moon barks loud upon a cloud

Away false god away!

 

And so the bats rip loose and screech

And swoop in dives and whirls

As midget gays priapic play

And penetrate the girls

 

Now round and round the world so spins

The priest falls out of bed

The prostitute he leaves behind

Saws off her painted head

 

As the squirrel f***s its store of nuts

And decks them with its juice

Who needs pussy now it squeaks?

At the bright green furry goose

 

And then the Ace of spades appears

All motion must now cease

The chair you find yourself upon

Imprisons you four years

 

As you wait upon the sun’s return

In the middle of the night

As the moon turns tail and runs away

And the virgin nuns take flight

 

A deathy chill now freezes all

And god brings out his dice

The numbers make him laugh and sing

As we all turn into mice

 

In a never-ending world you see

All things must come to pass

For probability is king

From the first unto the last

 

So if you wake up in a shell

And you wonder what's the tail?

There's nothing wrong it's simply time

For you to be a snail

 

So on and on the dance spins on

In the devil's quantum brew

We never know from day to day

What's in store for me and you.

 

Goodnight!!!

 

 


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 Reviews of "The Ace of Spades"
Reviewed by Jms Bell
Reviewed on July 29, 2012
YOUR PHRASES, RHYME AND IMAGERY SUPPORT YOUR THEME TO A 'T'. WELL DONE AND THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS

Reviewed by Regis Auffray
Reviewed on July 23, 2012
Quite captivating throughout, Keith; thank you for sharing your imagination. This piece flows very well too. Love and peace,

Regis

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on July 20, 2012
Ghoulishly enjoyable. You have a fine ability to juxtapose the improbable making it sound very reasonable in the course of a fearful night of our worst nightmare.

Ron

Reviewed by John Flanagan
Reviewed on July 20, 2012
Keith,
witty, ironic and written
with great confidence and intelligence.
Yes!

john

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
Reviewed on July 20, 2012
But Ma! The mold is the bestest part.

Reviewed on July 20, 2012
What better mouthpiece than Sage to elaborate the poetic justice of it all ha, bless ya!

Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater
Reviewed on July 19, 2012
Magnificent! Something out of a deck of Tarot! Or should be! What cryptic, rich, visual descriptors, Keith! I remember reading you years ago and nothing I've ever read of yours left me as speechless as this piece The Ace of Spades! It's phantasmagorically brilliant laced with a pagan mindset and Brothers Grimm fairytales, folklore, and mythology rich with lucid and ever bold subject matter. Sleek on the metaphysical charts, too...looking forward to more. Blessed Be.

Sage


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