Lottery tickets are a surtax on desperation.
quote by Doug Coupland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Adventure upon all the tickets in the lottery, and you lose for certain; and the greater the number of your tickets the nearer your approach to this certainty.
quote by Adam Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today I bought two lottery tickets, because I had a feeling that it would be now or never - they were both blanks. So I am not going to be rich after all. Nothing at all to be done about it.
Quinella Holiday
The bar was crowded in the arvo din
And the voices got higher and higher
For the man at the back with the tickets in his hat
He would have to do more than aspire to
A place with some light on the sand near a beach
A place near some green running water
Place on the hill with a view of the sea
And the cooking was done by his daughter
If the quinella comes in today
The day is late and the race is run
A full weeks wages and the lots been done
cos the meeting is over and the crowd has thinned
In the game of chance the dice has rolled its spin
Another long week, lady luck makes it plain
His dreams and his hopes are dashed in vain
In the final shout as they call his name
His tickets lie like scattered leaves out on that asphalt plain
Looking around for the moment thats right
Lottery life well the numbers are tight
As they try one more pull on the handle too late
He thinks of what could be it sticks in his throat
If the quinella...
(garrett/moginie)
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Desperation Is A Lonely Poem
DESPERATION IS A LONELY POEM
Desperation is a lonely poem
And what I have to say
And have said so many times before
Will not save me
From this situation.
Desperation is a lonely poem
And a helpless poem
And a difficult poem
And a painful poem
And a poem I do not know how to get out of.
Desperation is the silence of all these words
And the nothingness of endless not hearing
When I cry with all my soul aloud.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I pay parking tickets. You know, you can try to give 50%, but then they charge you all those penalties! Seriously, I have gotten many, many, many tickets in my life.
quote by Debra Messing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 164
She said “I’m not being funny, but I need my benefits
So I can fit my kids in a big new car
I their dads can’t pay as they’re all different guys
And I don’t really know who they are
And I’m not being funny but I need handouts for food,
Yes, its true that most is spent of cigs and drink
And of course my lottery tickets should be funded by you
So it’s not my cash going down the sink
And I’m not being funny but I’d really like a job
I want to get some work honestly
But not cleaning or manual stuff, I’ve to much pride for that
And every boss has it in for me
They asked me to turn up on time and work while I am there
And won’t let me skive which I find cruel
I’m not being funny but you should all pay for me”
And I didn’t find it funny at all
poem by Flying Lemming
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Rub Offs
People buy those rub off tickets.
I see 'em on the ground.
I don't buy those rub off tickets
but there was one I found.
I rubbed it off and won ten bucks
so I went and bought two more
and when I rubbed them off again
I went back in the store.
The lady said, 'You've won big money
What are you gonna do? '
I said to her 'What's big money'
She answered '10 thousand for you.'
So I bought ten thousand tickets
and rubbed 'em off all day.
And not even one was a winner
so I went on my way.
Money comes and money goes.
That's how it is for me.
So if I find another ticket
I'll give it away for free.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Traveling Dream
I am packing to go to the airport
but somehow I am never packed.
I keep remembering more things
I keep forgetting.
Secretly the clock is bolting
forward ten minutes at a click
instead of one. Each time
I look away, it jumps.
Now I remember I have to find
the cats. I have four cats
even when I am asleep.
One is on the bed and I slip
her into the suitcase.
One is under the sofa. I
drag him out. But the tabby
in the suitcase has vanished.
Now my tickets have run away.
Maybe the cat has my tickets.
I can only find one cat.
My purse has gone into hiding.
Now it is time to get packed.
I take the suitcase down.
There is a cat in it but no clothes.
My tickets are floating in the bath
tub full of water. I dry them.
One cat is in my purse
but my wallet has dissolved.
The tickets are still dripping.
I look at the clock as it leaps
forward and see I have missed
my plane. My bed is gone now.
There is one cat the size of a sofa.
poem by Marge Piercy
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Windfall
the indian lottery man
who walked the length
and breath of brickfields,
the one i usually bought
some lottery from, wishing
for a windfall of its first prize -
a cool US$1 million - where is he?
has he too gotten a windfall?
lying flat and peaceful like the
graves I passed by just now?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Thousands Are Sailing
The island it is silent now
But the ghosts still haunt the waves
And the torch lights up a famished man
Who fortune could not save
Did you work upon the railroad
Did you rid the streets of crime
Were your dollars from the white house
Were they from the five and dime
Did the old songs taunt or cheer you
And did they still make you cry
Did you count the months and years
Or did your teardrops quickly dry
Ah, no, says he, twas not to be
On a coffin ship I came here
And I never even got so far
That they could change my name
Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
To a land of opportunity
That some of them will never see
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
Their bellies full
Their spirits free
Theyll break the chains of poverty
And theyll dance
In manhattans desert twilight
In the death of afternoon
We stepped hand in hand on broadway
Like the first man on the moon
And the blackbird broke the silence
As you whistled it so sweet
And in brendan behans footsteps
I danced up and down the street
Then we said goodnight to broadway
Giving it our best regards
Tipped our hats to mister cohen
Dear old times squares favorite bard
Then we raised a glass to jfk
And a dozen more besides
When I got back to my empty room
I suppose I must have cried
Thousands are sailing
Again across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Postcards were mailing
Of sky-blue skies and oceans
From rooms the daylight never sees
Where lights dont glow on christmas trees
But we dance to the music
And we dance
Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Where eer we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies
And we dance
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lucky?
The lottery hit well over 500 million bucks,
And everyone was making plans
As if they'd already got the dough -
Some made lists of unneeded vices,
Others, plans to invest it all
(' 500 million just isn't enough these days ya know! ') -
So many - who mind you hadn't even won yet -
Were quickly showing signs of paranoia,
Plans to move far away, change phone numbers, get lawyers,
security systems, gaurds, and guns!
(' gotta be prepared ya know,
this kinda cash can cause friends to turn on ya! ') -
The day before they lived without a worry.
Then so suddenly, overcome with the emotion of it all
Their fear ran amuck:
' What if strangers call,
asking for a buck? ! '
' How dare the vagrants so bold be,
to ask for even a pittance
from one of such wealth as me? ! '
- Thinking of all that everyone had said,
It sort of went to my head.
So naturally I started to plan,
What if I was that winning man? ... what would I do?
- I'd buy a jet!
...no, I get air sick.
- I'd buy a yacht!
...no, I get sea sick.
- I'd buy a mansion overlooking L.A.!
...no, the smog makes me sick.
Then it hit me, hard and low.
I'm just not cut out to be rich.
... for no matter what, I am simply an average 'Joe'.
Even merely pondering over that kind of gross cash
Gave me a heartfelt fit.
Just the thought of being a wealthy snob
... really does make me sick!
So here, please
Take these lottery tickets back.
I've decided to be content,
Just a sittin' peacefully
Over here on the 'poor' side of the tracks.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Occluded
Occluded by dust,
And well traveled orbits
Beyond the known space-
What rankles after midnight
Each being labors alone;
Coming and going a lonely way
The ending of life like a faint surprise
And even less interruption,
To others-
Back to the bingo, the pool halls,
Lottery tickets, and soccer games,
Finish the beer, the haircut, the lovemaking,
Death's another ritual, we must partake.
Mechanically we remove the blood,
Paint the face, bedeck with flowers.
Lower the body, down into wood:
(The small interruption does us good) -
But hallelujah- it's not our time, yet.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Down By the Carib Sea
I
Sunrise in the Tropics
Sol, Sol, mighty lord of the tropic zone,
Here I wait with the trembling stars
To see thee once more take thy throne.
There the patient palm tree watching
Waits to say, 'Good morn' to thee,
And a throb of expectation
Pulses through the earth and me.
Now, o'er nature falls a hush,
Look! the East is all a-blush;
And a growing crimson crest
Dims the late stars in the west;
Now, a flood of golden light
Sweeps acress the silver night,
Swift the pale moon fades away
Before the light-girt King of Day,
See! the miracle is done!
Once more behold! The Sun!
II
Los Cigarillos
This is the land of the dark-eyed
gente,
Of the
dolce far niente,
Where we dream away
Both the night and day,
At night-time in sleep our dreams we invoke,
Our dreams come by day through the redolent smoke,
As it lazily curls,
And slowly unfurls
From our lips,
And the tips
Of our fragrant cigarillos.
For life in the tropics is only a joke,
So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke,
Smoke — smoke — smoke.
Tropical constitutions
Call for occasional revolutions;
But after that's through,
Why there's nothing to do
But smoke — smoke;
For life in the tropics is only a joke,
So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke,
Smoke — smoke — smoke.
III
Teestay
Of tropic sensations, the worst
Is,
sin duda,
the tropical thirst.
When it starts in your throat and constantly grows,
Till you feel that it reaches down to your toes,
When your mouth tastes like fur
And your tongue turns to dust,
There's but one thing to do,
And do it you must,
Drink
teestay.
Teestay, a drink with a history,
A delicious, delectable mystery,
'Cinco centavos el vaso, señor,'
If you take one, you will surely want more.
Teestay, Teestay,
The national drink on a feast day;
How it coolingly tickles,
As downward it trickles,
Teestay, teestay.
And you wish, as you take it down at a quaff,
That your neck was constructed à la giraffe.
Teestay, teestay.
IV
The Lottery Girl
'Lottery, lottery,
Take a chance at the lottery?
Take a ticket,
Or, better, take two;
Who knows what the future
May hold for you?
Lottery, lottery,
Take a chance at the lottery?'
Oh, limpid-eyed girl,
I would take every chance,
If only the prize
Were a love-flashing glance
From your fathomless eyes.
'Lottery, lottery,
Try your luck at the lottery?
Consider the size
Of the capital prize,
And take tickets
For the lottery.
Tickets,
señor?
Tickets,
señor?
Take a chance at the lottery?'
Oh, crimson-lipped girl,
With the magical smile,
I would count that the gamble
Were well worth the while,
Not a chance would I miss,
If only the prize
Were a honey-bee kiss
Gathered in sips
From those full-ripened lips,
And a love-flashing glance
From your eyes.
V
The Dancing Girl
Do you know what it is to dance?
Perhaps, you do know, in a fashion;
But by dancing I mean,
Not what's generally seen,
But dancing of fire and passion,
Of fire and delirious passion.
With a dusky-haired
señorita,
Her dark, misty eyes near your own,
And her scarlet-red mouth,
Like a rose of the south,
The reddest that ever was grown,
So close that you catch
Her quick-panting breath
As across your own face it is blown,
With a sigh, and a moan.
Ah! that is dancing,
As here by the Carib it's known.
Now, whirling and twirling
Like furies we go;
Now, soft and caressing
And sinuously slow;
With an undulating motion,
Like waves on a breeze-kissed ocean:—
And the scarlet-red mouth
Is nearer your own,
And the dark, misty eyes
Still softer have grown.
Ah! that is dancing, that is loving,
As here by the Carib they're known.
VI
Sunset in the Tropics
A silver flash from the sinking sun,
Then a shot of crimson across the sky
That, bursting, lets a thousand colors fly
And riot among the clouds; they run,
Deepening in purple, flaming in gold,
Changing, and opening fold after fold,
Then fading through all of the tints of the rose into gray,
Till, taking quick fright at the coming night,
They rush out down the west,
In hurried quest
Of the fleeing day.
Now above where the tardiest color flares a moment yet,
One point of light, now two, now three are set
To form the starry stairs, —
And, in her fire-fly crown,
Queen Night, on velvet slippered feet, comes softly down.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Lottery
I have never won the lottery
but if I ever did I'd buy
A lovely little run a round car
something pleasing to my eye
The color of my car would be yellow
it would be nick named The sun
I would drive to all the beaches
having loads of holiday fun
I have never won the lottery
maybe that's because I do not play
but the thought of winning millions
just blows my mind away
By Marie Causey
poem by Marie Causey
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I don't think human beings learn anything without desperation. Desperation is a necessary ingredient to learning anything or creating anything. Period. If you ain't desperate at some point, you ain't interesting.
quote by Jim Carrey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Desperation Samba
Desperation samba (halloween in tijuana)
By: jimmy buffett, will jennings, timothy b. schmit
1985
This song brings to mind two things. first, an image of robert mitchum
Standing in the doorway of a bar in tijuana, and second, a line by
Thomas mcguane, my brother-in-law, from his book, panama,
"the night wrote a check the morning couldn't cash."
- used by permission of author
Halloween in tijuana
Full moon in my eyes
I wonder how in the hell i got here
Without a disguise
Should i take this last step
Or turn myself around
Or follow my intuition into that border town
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico [i want to dance in mexico]
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos [...with our friends]
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
Pretty girls they beckon
From their rooms above
Skeletons are dancing
In the name of love
Don't know where i'm goin'
I don't like where i've been
There may be no exit
But hell i'm going in
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
I hear the people singing that same old haunting tune
I drink because i know it's me against the moon
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
-- spoken:
"tss, tss tss"
"hey, psst amigo!"
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
Yo quiero a bailar en mexico
We do the desperation samba con nos amigos
- notes:
Background vocals: timothy b. schmit, harry stinson
Featuring reggie young on gut string guitar and
Harrison ford on the bullwhip
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lottery
The Lottery
Through their mind’s eye, patiently they stood gazing to the sky,
peering through the floating cloud, hoping to spot the pot
of gold at the end of the rainbow.
From a shorter distance, a day in the month of May,
and in the solitude of self, I studied the long line of
Mona Lisa faces against expectations and probabilities.
Some leaned on canes; others rode in wheelchairs;
still others held up under their own weight.
As the single column shrunk, it grew with young mothers
and their laughing children ducking under their
grasping hands, and using them as Maypoles.
My mind got a glimpse of a young mother with a cute little
house etched on her face for she and the baby
on her hip, and the toddler tugging at her skirt.
In the stillness of self, I was able to see beyond my likeness
into the mind of a round- woman silently, moaning as she
leaned on inflamed knees that ached for a knee replacement.
I even eavesdropped into the thoughts of an adult male,
weighed down under jobless, moneyless, and homeless.
The gold at the end of the arc is certain to replace
“less” for “more”, he thought!
I could not help over hearing the long conversation of two men
standing side by side, in the single line, making loud talk:
''I'm behind in child support payments and can’t see my child, said one.”
'Are you saying, you sat quietly in the courtroom waiting for
a judge to evaluate your family's needs, the other asked sharply? '
MAN, we got to do better!
We can’t keep letting others adjudicate our worth and that of our families!
Let’s take back our dignity, and with pride,
place it in custody of our sons and daughters.”
As the front of the line was dwindling, I plainly saw a silver haired woman, time lined her forehead; her eye lids drooping like weeping willow branches. Yet she held tightly onto the plastic holder bulging with blessed lotto cards. She fixed her eyes and mind to the heavens, silently praying that God would not forsake she and her three small grand children…though, she had fruitless results before.
The procession moved closer. I stood in awe at the speed and accuracy of the cashier’s fingers pecking the keys; as the machine violently spat out handfuls of lottery tickets. And like a robot, taking customers money- at the same time- placing the tickets in their hands. I patiently shuffled along not thinking myself as part of the aggregate in the shopping mall.
Nearing the front of the line, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket,
(Unknowingly) a ten spot fell to the floor. “Hello Boo. I’m good. No.
I’m waiting to buy my lottery tickets. Son, hopefully the cashier has that
“BIG CHECK” we have been waiting for. Okay, bye”
I leaned forward; handing the cashier my number list, then reached into my pocket and pulling out an empty hand. I wondered if gamblers count the times they lose or win.
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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How Do We Collect The Evaporating Dew On Grass?
It's a sad demise
Mr.Bandula.Somaweera
A Travel Specialist
(e-destinations, Inc,.)
Who arranged our Air tickets
in a considerable rate
When we moved from Los Angeles to Boston.
Our friend who bade Goodbye yesterday!
O this sad journey of Life,
Companions! One by one moves away
and the Master above who books our tickets
without a prior notice?
If Nirvana is the last stop
Hope you reached there safely brother!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Inspiration~ micropoetry
Inspiration is like a gentle breeze it slowly passes, softly touches, leaves an everlasting impression and awakens the eternal soul!
Man tends to act either out of inspiration or out of desperation. But be careful often acts done in desperation lead to miseries.
poem by Meetika Srivastava
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Laissez Faire
A stranger's desperation shouldn't be of much
Concern to you. This is what we all are told
By those who know no desperation, having
Found the means to gather profits from what
We produce. 'You're on your own, ' they say,
And laugh, 'though we are not, but never mind.
This world works in splendid fashion, you for
Us, and you, a stranger, aren't of much concern.'
poem by Lawrence Beck
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