Aphrodite Don't Play Baseball

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Poetry

Aphrodite Don't Play Baseball

 

He's got genius, convoluted,

inverted invocations,

I got no resources and minor revelations,

I'm not playing charades with friends for pain,

I'm not tossing my hat into that ring,

I got no game,

Don't want no game.

 

Hoochie mama's running cards for the crown,

Conning wing-tipped marks to double down,

The players dance on in mocking scorn,

Blind in beauty, the child dances on,

Meanwhile, oblivion's feet tempt fate,

Not my game, I'm just a whispered gate.

 

Never knew what they had right on their tongue,

Threw away God, every single one,

But what do I know, I was just Love,

And what has that to do with God.

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