Death Told Ten Poem by Troy Clark

Death told ten, fold little five
Jack and the hand of ace
Doom little sparrow, light
Flight, then sinking days.

Love-the 13 of hearts
Bad luck that is our good luck
You follow the crows to where now
To lamb with a gun to big bad wolfs head
Will he pull the trigger
Will he pull the trigger.

Love-the 13 of spade's
As in shovel, dig your own grave
and plop the body bad deep inside
let the maggots and worms bury him
Let the screaching and laughter drown him
Let that little 13 of his dig him out now.

Death told ten, fold little five
Jack and the hand of ace
Doom little sparrow, light
Flight, then sinking days.

Now we've all sat in a corner before
Looking through our stary eyes into oblivion
Wishing to actually see
To play with the little horned creatures
That swarm the world
and create simplicity.

Love-the 13 of hearts
Bad luck that is our good luck
You follow the crows to where now
To lamb with a gun to big bad wolfs head
Will he pull the trigger
Will he pull the trigger
When our lives a Russian roulette.

Click, Click, Click-boom