Chance

Life's a game of chance,

It's a crap shoot from the start.

Snake eyes you win love,

Otherwise a string of broken hearts.

Who knows the games God plays,

Einstein said he didn't play dice.

But he didn't know true reality,

God's a card player who can fuck your life.

Lucky you if he picked an Ace,

But always beware of the joker.

It's a double stitched, stacked deck,

You'll never win a hand of poker.

They say don't stare too long at the sun,

Because you might become blind.

Or chance may make it spin around,

And make you eternally wise n kind.

Drugs n booze can blur out life,

Its chances unlucky card flop.

But forever seeking the next high,

Will leave you begging non stop.

Sipping from the Devils cup,

He whispers promises in the dark of night.

A quick escape from chances reality,

A high that steals your soul's light.

Coz chance is a wicked plan,

It determines your life and means.

Nature and nurture ignore chances role,

And could fill your life with empty dreams.

© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

This won the Nov 2025 Writing Competition.

Guilty Pleasure....

I'm guilty and it's always a pleasure,

Stuck indoors, sweating the weather.

Minted, always, a man of wealth,

My habits and pleasures have never been stealth.

I had gold plated ching, and whores on tap,

Quick booty calls and sometimes the clap.

Drugs, booze, Armani styled suits,

Italian leather shoes, platinum DM boots.

I have it all, houses all round,

Aston Martins with top surround sound.

Top speed beasts, I wreck cars without care,

Brush off the glass, smile back at stares.

Pull out some notes, and pay off the peeps, 

Surprised what folks forget, for a few sheets.

But all this sprinkle is normal life,

My real guilty secret, I keep from my wife.

I wait downstairs, in the marble piped hall,

Blow her a kiss, and say that I'll call.

Watch as she walks off, picks out a car,

I stand on the steps, make sure she's out far.

Then I strip off my clothes, and pull out my cock,

Lay in the garden, right by the dock.

The boats swim past, Richmond river a few,

I always make sure, the ladies get a good view.

Cover my nads, with honey so sweet,

And rap off a knuckle, right to the beat.

I let all the passengers, get a good view,

Slapping the monkey, a tickle or few.

The grannies all take pictures, and flashing snaps,

But my face is covered, with my wives face on mask.

My chest isn't hairy, it's got fake tits,

I rub my nips, and flick my bits.

All the old ladies, are turned on for sure,

As I shoot my load, I get a loud roar!

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid