READING MY CARDS
mad hippie poet 1974 (new jersey)
It is early Sunday morning I open my eyes thankful for another day. I have not been feeling like myself for a while. I see things and numbers that to some are hard to explain. The weatherman says today will be a mix of snow and rain.
I go downstairs to have my tea and read the swirls that it leaves inside my grandmother's cracked cup that I had since I was a kid. I wouldn't say I like the answers it has to give so I break out the tarot cards I keep shuffling my hand trying to understand the warnings that they are trying to convey.
Last night the dead kept on talking to me telling me about all the things that we should but sometimes care not to see.
My favorite spirit dressed in black had me laughing and crying all night long. I asked them are you the Grim Reaper are you coming to take me home?
All they said is stop reading my cards I do not like competition neither do their Devils or Gods and you have become all three of these entities to them. Nice job helping them cross over but you my dear friend stop reading cards because you have other work that needs to be done this no longer shit and giggles and I promise you that it will not be fun
If you can not see my heart you will never know my soul
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"READING MY CARDS" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/146732/reading-my-cards>.
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